Canvas

by Jacob Chance

  CANVAS

  Jacob Chance

  Copyright © 2017 Jacob Chance

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Cover design by PopKitty Designs

  Edited by Vivian Freeman

  This book contains mature content.

  Dedication

  This book is for all the members of my reader’s group, Spoiled by Chance. Thank you for the unconditional support and encouragement you show me. Your love of the written word inspires me and drives me to make each book better than the last. Whether you actively contribute daily or prefer to sit back quietly, I appreciate each of you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Josh

  2. Josh

  3. Elle

  4. Josh

  5. Elle

  6. Josh

  7. Josh

  8. Elle

  9. Josh

  10. Josh

  11. Elle

  12. Josh

  13. Josh

  14. Elle

  15. Josh

  16. Josh

  17. Elle

  18. Josh

  19. Josh

  20. Elle

  21. Josh

  22. Elle

  23. Josh

  24. Elle

  25. Josh

  26. Elle

  27. Josh

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  DRIVE

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  REMY BLAKE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  JOSH

  Five Years Ago

  The quiet city streets reflect the lateness of the hour as I wander down the sidewalk on Commonwealth Avenue. The unexpected chill in the air pierces through the lightweight button down I tugged on as if I’m not wearing it at all.

  Suffering from insomnia for the first time in my life, night walks have become part of my routine since I began attending Boston University two weeks ago. Being away from home has turned me into a worrier and the nights are the worst. My mind refuses to shut down the never-ending stream of ‘what if’ thoughts, no matter how hard I try.

  I’m only an hour away from the house I grew up in, but a lot of bad things can happen in sixty minutes. Especially when my seventy-five-year-old grandmother is raising my mischievous fourteen-year-old brother. Visions of the house catching on fire, trapping both inside, or of my grandmother unconscious on the floor assault my mind. Once those images are in place, they’re almost impossible to stop. And so, I walk the city streets until my eyes hungrily absorb every detail this middle of the night version provides for my artist’s soul.

  Moving at an accelerated pace, hands tucked in my front pockets, I continue on my way back to the freshman dorm. As I round the corner marking the final leg of my journey, a quick, shrill female scream reaches my ears. My feet pause their forward motion as my eyes scan the area for anything amiss. Focusing, I listen for signs of a struggle. When I’ve almost convinced myself I’ve imagined it, another scream pierces the relative quiet. This one is louder and panic filled.

  I sprint forward, my sneakers pound down the pitted sidewalk. Adrenaline races through me. I have no idea what I’m about to get caught up in, but I can’t ignore someone’s cry of distress.

  I’m almost upon them when I notice a large man pinning a young woman face first against the front exterior of a building.

  “I told you, we weren’t through,” he shouts, slamming the side of her face against the rough brick.

  I don’t know how he doesn’t hear me coming. Barreling into him with a forearm shiver to the temple, the force of my hit sweeps him off his feet. He lands on his back with a sickening thud followed by the crack of his skull hitting the sidewalk. He groans, hands immediately gripping the back of his head, while I search the surrounding area for any weapon he may have dropped. Finding nothing, my focus immediately switches to his victim.

  “Are you okay?” I ask in the softest tone I can as I slowly approach. Keeping my open hands up as I move closer, I allow her to see I’m not a threat, but her eyes are squeezed shut. Her cheek is pressed to the red brick as she whimpers repeatedly. I don’t think she realizes the danger has been removed or that I’m standing next to her.

  “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you anymore,” I say, soothingly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” My eyes trace over her face, taking in her high cheekbones and full lips.

  Her eyes snap wide open, locking on mine. They shine with terror and tears, sending a punch of longing to my stomach. There’s a fragileness about her, that makes me want to protect and console her.

  The light of the street lamps and the glowing business sign on the building illuminate her feminine features with a soft, golden glow, allowing me to see she’s absolutely stunning.

  “Are you okay?” I question, stepping closer when I notice blood trailing down the right side of her forehead and onto her cheek.

  She doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she steps away, letting out a sob as she peers cautiously around me. I turn to check on the attacker, only to realize he’s no longer there. Fuck. I should’ve kept my eyes on him and called the police. Instead, I got sidetracked making sure she wasn’t hurt. I search the immediate area for any sign of the perpetrator, but find none. If he’s smart, he’s long gone by now.

  Spinning around, prepared to aid this scared girl in any way she needs, I discover, she’s running down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Goddammit. I’d planned to see her safely home.

  Shaking my head, I begin the walk back to my dorm. I’ve had enough excitement for one night. Now, all I want is my sketch pad and a pencil in my hand. My fingers tingle with the urge to draw her.

  My thoughts remain focused on the mystery girl. Where is she from? Does she go to school around here?

  When I reach my room, sleep will be the last thing on my mind. Already, I’m picturing her graceful brow with the dark arches as if I took a mental snapshot. Being an artist allows me to see more than the average person and remember the minutest of details, like the matching pair of dark freckles above her right eyebrow.

  As I climb the steps to the main entrance of North Hall, the building my dorm room is in, my heart pounds with excitement. In only a few more minutes, I’ll be bringing her enthralling face to life on paper.

  1

  Josh

  Late December, Four Months Ago; Las Vegas

  “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” could possibly be the most recognized slogan for any vacation destination in the world. While I came here for Derek and Kenna’s wedding, I was hoping for a little more excitement on a personal level. So far, two of my best friends getting married has been the highlight of the long weekend - although, I did attend a burlesque show with the guys. None of the scantily clad women performing on t
he stage caught my eye. These days my head is a confused mess and my dick only wants one woman; unfortunately, the attraction only goes one way. I’m completely hung up on Elle Johnson and she couldn’t care less. We used to be close friends and spent a lot of time together. Now, we barely tolerate each other, never mind seek the other out. Gone are the days when we would binge watch shows on Netflix and stuff our faces full of whatever junk food we could find. Long, meaningful conversations used to be our forte, but lately the only words we share are laced with sarcasm or insults. Now, the times we’re together are driven by social commitments and filled with awkward moments; like this weekend getaway has been.

  The sound of Elle’s distinct giggle makes its way to me. My gaze glides down the bar and finds her draped all over the same guy she’s been talking to since we arrived two hours ago.

  Sliding off my stool, I slump against the wooden edge and study her.

  She leans into him, her graceful hand on his chest. The tips of her tits are almost touching him. I clench my teeth, knock back the rest of my beer and slam it down on the bar. Flagging down the bartender, I point to my bottle, signaling I want a refill. By the time my eyes trek back in Elle’s direction, she’s walking away and the guy’s focus is locked on her heart shaped ass. I can’t really blame him. I’ve fantasized about her ass a time or two myself.

  I’ve been friends with Elle, for five years now and I can already see what’s going to happen. I’ve known her long enough to realize, she’s going to want to bring this schmuck back to her room, tonight. The thought of her with him or anyone else guts me.

  Fuck no. Not if I have anything to say about it. Following in the direction she headed, I reach the hallway with the men’s and women’s bathrooms. Relaxing back against the wall, I wait. She’ll come out sooner or later. I pass the time by checking my emails on my phone.

  I’m an artist and I’ve been commissioned to do some paintings for City Hall in Boston. It’s a huge opportunity for me. I received an email from the woman in charge of decorating a new wing of the building. When we met in person, she seemed interested in more than my paintings, but I would never mix business with pleasure. Elle would probably say it’s because I’m boring and too nice. She thinks I’m a fucking boy scout.

  I slip my phone into my pocket as she exits the bathroom.

  She scowls when she sees me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m waiting for you. You’re not going to invite that guy back to your hotel room, are you?” I stand tall and wait for her answer.

  Her eyes flash their anger at me. “How is this any of your business?” She moves toward me stopping when we stand toe to toe. “What do you care?” She pokes me in the chest with her long, red nail.

  It pisses me off because I do care - too damn much.

  “Just because you’re happy living a boring, sexless existence, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” She pokes me again. “Maybe, I like a little spice in my life. Maybe, I want some big, handsome guy to tie me up and fuck me hard.” She flips her hair and scrunches her nose at me like I’m something distasteful. “Not that you’d even know how to fuck someone hard. You probably only make love.” She rolls her eyes and turns her back to me.

  Fuck no. I’m not letting her off that easy.

  I grip her wrist, spin her around and pull until she crashes into my chest. The softness of her large tits press against me as I slam my lips down on hers without warning. Jesus. Her hot mouth tastes sweeter and more enticing than I ever imagined. Her lips are soft and full under mine. The sexy little moans of hers have me hard as a fucking steel. I grip her curvy hips and rock her pelvis into mine, then shove my leg between hers. She grinds on my thigh and I bite her bottom lip, tugging on it with my teeth. She whimpers into my mouth and it turns me on even more. My hands slide up her back; my fingers twist in her silky brown hair. I forcefully tug her head back as our tongues rub against each other. She needs to know I’m not some pushover. I like to fucking lead.

  Pulling my mouth from hers, we both struggle to catch our breath as I release my grip on her long tresses. Her hand slips up between us to cover her lips, stunned by the kiss we just shared.

  Fuck. That never should’ve happened. I wish it hadn’t because now I’m going to wonder what her warm, soft tongue would feel like on my cock.

  “If you didn’t act like such a cold-hearted bitch, you’d know what it was like to make love. I'd take you back to my room and I'd show you.” I lean forward and grip her upper arms. “That’s what you do when you care about someone. But, you’re just a body I’d dip my wick in, because men don’t fall for women like you, Elle. You won’t let them, and I wouldn’t even bother trying. Instead, I'd fuck you like I hate you; over and over until you’d beg me to stop.” I let my hands fall away and take a step back. “That's what girls like you want, isn't it, Elle?"

  I stare into her eyes and feel guilty for the stricken look I put there. I did what I had to do; I convince myself. Elle is her own worst enemy. She’s a man eater and I don’t plan on being her latest victim.

  2

  Josh

  Late April - Present Day

  I raise my arm, crooked in the perfect position for Elle to hold so we can walk down the middle aisle toward the church exit. Our eyes meet for a second before she rolls hers away, annoyed that we must do this together. I’m not exactly happy about it myself. Being near her isn’t easy when I crave her like a fucking drug addict jonesing for his next fix.

  “Okay, does everyone know what they need to do tomorrow?” Janny, the bride to be asks when all the couples have successfully exited the church. She glances around at each member of the small wedding party.

  “I think they can handle it, baby,” Kyle, her soon to be husband says with a chuckle. He pulls her into his arms and whispers something in her ear, making her blush. It’s awesome to see them so happy together and believe me, I haven’t always felt this way. Janny used to be my girlfriend and she’s still my best friend. We weren’t meant to be as a couple, even though there was a time, I thought differently. Anyone who watches the two of them can see they’re perfect for each other. They’ve beaten seemingly insurmountable odds to get to this point. No one deserves a happily ever after more than they do and tomorrow when they get married, they’re taking a giant step in the right direction.

  Derek Santiago, Kyle’s best friend loudly claps his hands together. “Does this mean we can move onto the eating and drinking portion of the evening?”

  “Hear, hear,” I say. “I’m starving,” I rub a hand over my lean stomach and it growls in answer.

  “Everyone head to our new place,” Kyle announces. They recently bought a house in Brookline after their condo tragically burned down in a fire. Fortunately, there were no fatalities, just some lost possessions which could be replaced.

  We all pile into our respective vehicles. Elle jumps into the passenger seat of my seven-year-old Dodge Durango. “What’s the matter? Didn’t anyone else have room?” I question, knowing she’s not riding with me by choice. I overheard her say her car’s in the shop, but I never imagined she’d end up in my vehicle.

  “Don’t make this worse than it already is,” she says, in a terse tone of voice as she stares out the passenger window. I wait for her to continue, but fortunately, she remains silent.

  Starting the engine, I shift into drive and begin the journey to Kyle and Janny’s. The glow of the bright street lamps and various business signs light up the inside of the car as I drive along Main Street. My eyes keep darting to the right getting waylaid by her sexy as hell legs exposed to mid-thigh in her short, tight, red dress. What would those legs feel like wrapped around my neck as I devour her pussy? Shaking my head, I remind myself that having these thoughts about Elle is futile.

  Keeping her face turned away, she peers out the passenger window, giving me ample opportunity to continue my ogling without her noticing. She’d only gloat if she knew and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how muc
h I want her.

  We play these twisted games of disinterest, but both of us know when we shared that kiss in Vegas four months ago we lit up like fucking Christmas trees. We can pretend all we want, even lie to ourselves, but fact is fact - I want to be buried so deep inside Elle Johnson, want to fuck her so hard she’ll never escape the memory of what my cock feels like.

  Minutes later we’re pulling into the wide driveway of Kyle and Janny’s new Colonial. The saltbox style design is a favorite of mine and originated here in New England. The front is flat and the rear roof line is steeply sloped, extending back, all the way down to one story. When you catch a side view of the house you realize how massive it really is.

  Elle is out the door before I’ve shut the engine off. Hurrying to meet her as she comes around the front of my vehicle, I take her arm and guide her along the uneven brick pathway. She’s unsteady in her high heels.

  “This isn’t a date, Josh,” she grumbles under her breath, trying to pull her arm from my grasp.

  “Elle, I’m perfectly aware,” I say, continuing to hold on, “but I’m also going to remain the gentleman my mother raised me to be. Even your bad attitude won’t change that.” Leading her to the entrance closest to the garage, I follow her up the two steps and reach in front of her to open the door.