The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Pierce’s grip tightened.

  “Pierce,” Loury said raspingly. “Let go… before you create another… bigger… problem… for yourself.”

  Pierce held onto him for another second for good measure before releasing his neck, the man calmly sucking in a deep breath of air. The pale blue eyes darted quickly around the circle to see how many people had been stopped in their tracks by the scene, but there were only a few – most already moving on with their afternoon.

  Loury’s hand came up to rearrange his tie. “You know I could kill you for that?” he said nonchalantly, as though he was telling Pierce that it might rain this afternoon.

  “I know you could try.” He smirked. “Then again, I’d actually have to be concerned at the loss for that to matter to me.”

  Would the devil be afraid of death?

  Pierce’s smile dropped from his face as Loury cleared his throat. “What do you mean you told them?”

  For a second, Pierce thought the man might refuse him the rest of the story, but he continued coldly. “I told them about the painting and I might have suggested the best way for them to get you to show it to them.”

  “Why?” Pierce ground out; he’d thought they were friends. “Did they drug me?”

  Loury’s mouth thinned and he nodded. “They were relatively minor players in the drug scene, except I knew that the one was sleeping with the man in charge of the entire ring. I was looking to expand my business and I saw an opportunity. I asked them if they would be interested in a way to impress the boss and put in a good word for me; I knew the girl wanted to give him just one more reason to keep her around for longer.”

  “The blonde one?” Pierce clarified – the one who’d been talking to him.

  Loury nodded. “I don’t know who the other one was or if she was really involved. Anyway, so I did what I do best. I traded information – information on you in exchange for an introduction to the man in charge.”

  “Who?”

  The blue eyes narrowed. “That isn’t pertinent to what you want to know.”

  “So, you told them about the painting I had, how to get me to tell them about it so that they could ask to see it, and then told them to drug me?”

  “More or less. I told her the first part and then I gave her a drink to bring to you.”

  That’s right; the blonde had returned with a drink for him. What the fuck.

  “You motherfucker. I should fucking report you to the police,” Piece sneered, his eyes darting to the sky. This day was just getting better and fucking better.

  “Except I know far too much about too many – yourself included - for them to stop with me.” Loury smiled. “Plus, you need me.”

  “And you need me,” Pierce retorted. “Why do you still need an introduction?”

  The man’s jaw clenched. “It’s more than an introduction now. I’ve been trying to get involved in a certain business line for some time and bringing this painting to light – and the woman who has it will… help that along.” He smiled tightly. “That night fucked us all, Pierce. Don’t think that I didn’t come away unscathed, either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You weren’t the only one they stole from. The one who talked to you had been stealing – skimming – drugs and money from the top of her sales and he found out. So, instead of being the man who provided her with the opportunity to take the painting, she painted me as an accomplice – proof because the painting never made it to him.” Loury’s head tilted, his eyes seeming to narrow in on something behind Pierce’s head, but Pierce wasn’t taking any chances; he wasn’t letting Loury out of his sight. “Honestly, I think he had that bitch killed; it’s the other girl who has the painting and she’s been hiding from him. He blacklisted me from those very-profitable circles because of this, and when this woman and the painting appear, it will be the end of him.”

  Now, the truth was coming out.

  Loury was out for revenge – and he was going to use Pierce to get it.

  Pierce should have known there was more – because like him, Loury only looked out for himself.

  “So, I find the woman, get the painting, and that’s it?” Pierce clarified.

  “That’s it.” Loury’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let me know how many invitations you need and I’ll have them sent to you.”

  Pierce’s gaze narrowed skeptically. “How do you know where I’m staying?” Loury returned a stare that said ‘are you serious?’ “Why would you think that I need more than one invitation?”

  With a mischievous smile reminiscent of his own, Loury nodded to over Pierce’s shoulder. “Because – we’ve had a spectator for most of our conversation here and she’s far too lovely to be one of mine.”

  This time, Pierce turned, but he saw no one. He quickly enlarged his radius before spotting a golden head disappearing down one of the converging streets.

  Ana.

  “I’ll be in touch.” By the time Pierce turned his head back, the white ghost was gone.

  Son of a bitch.

  After everything Loury had just revealed – the truth about what had happened four years ago – and now finding out that Ana had heard it all and was probably on her way back not only to reveal his source, but take his plans right out from under him, he was on the brink of losing control.

  What had she been doing here? How had she even known to follow him?

  He began to stalk down the street after her; this was a conversation that she wouldn’t be ruling over.

  This time, even the Queen wouldn’t be safe from his wrath.

  Chapter 9

  As soon as it seemed like their conversation was coming to a close – Ana bolted. Even before that, she knew she’d stayed too long with the hopes of hearing more; the man might not have known her, but he had recognized that their conversation was the real focus of her attentions.

  Shit.

  She normally wasn’t this careless, but everything about Pierce was throwing her off – everything that he was doing and everything that he’d done was causing her to make rash decisions. The problem was that she couldn’t control him, so if she didn’t act in the moment, he’d blow their entire investigation before they even had a fighting chance.

  She needed to get back to the house and talk to Morgan. He would know how to deal with his friend. He would have to because Ana wasn’t getting through. She took the steps to the Tube two at a time, the scorching sensation on her back telling her that Pierce would be coming behind her very shortly and she didn’t trust herself to confront him alone about this; he would be intent on convincing her to let him do whatever fool idea he’d decided on and she needed someone to make sure that her desire for him didn’t get the better of her.

  She jumped on the train just as the doors closed, releasing a breath with the knowledge that she at least had about a three-minute head start.

  The commotion of the circle had been too much for her to hear every word that had been exchanged. Instead, she’d only caught bits and pieces.

  ‘Invitation-only, masked event… The Shard… Once-in-a-lifetime purchase.’

  Her heart had leapt into her throat and she’d almost stepped in when Pierce went to strangle the man. She hadn’t heard what he’d said to prompt such a rash reaction, but like the other man, she’d scanned the crowd worried about how much of a scene Pierce was causing.

  The last thing that she needed was for him to get arrested.

  ‘Did they drug me?... Minor players in the drug scene… How many invitations do you need?’

  When she’d heard that question, she knew for sure that she’d been made. Quickly unwrapping the scarf from her head and throwing it back on the cart, she made her way across the circle and down the street that she’d come from, knowing it wouldn’t be long until Pierce was behind her.

  “Morgan!” she yelled, running into the house.

  No response.

  She took the stairs up to the third floor – up to his room – knocking fur
iously on his door. She really wanted some back up confronting Pierce.

  But it looked like she wasn’t going to get any.

  With angry determination, she turned back towards the stairwell, preparing herself to face Pierce on her own. Only she didn’t have the luxury of those few more seconds.

  The darkly handsome, deceptive man stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to notice his presence.

  Her hands came over her chest, unconsciously gripping her jacket closed over her even though her t-shirt covered everything.

  “Ana.” Her name fell hoarsely from his lips, sending goosebumps all over her body.

  “Pierce,” she replied nonchalantly.

  “Care to tell me why you followed me this afternoon?” He stood, resting his hip against the bannister.

  Why did he have to look so gorgeous? Especially when he’d just gone completely behind her back to do the one thing she’d asked him not to do.

  Taking the initiative, she stepped towards him and crossed her arms even tighter over herself, preparing for battle.

  “Because I knew I couldn’t trust you to do as I asked,” she retorted, her stare confidently meeting his. “Were you going to tell me? Or were you planning on using your friend’s information to find the painting – and the thief – on your own?”

  He took a step toward her and her breath caught; their chests only a few inches apart now, both attempted to dominate the conversation. Except the only thing that was overpowering between them was the rising tension of desire, spreading rapidly through the air.

  “I was planning on telling you,” he ground out. “I was planning on telling you to show you that I can, in fact, be useful.”

  “Prove it.” What was she doing? She shook her head and continued, “This has nothing to do with whether or not you can be useful. It has everything to do with the fact that you let your emotions get the best of you, Pierce. That’s why I’m trying to keep you out of this. And if you don’t believe me, just think about how you acted last night. You can’t control yourself.”

  “No, I just can’t control myself around you.”

  Heat seared straight to her core and she felt warmth spreading between her thighs.

  “Well, then… tell me.” She winced as her voice broke, giving away just how much his words had affected her.

  His eyebrows raised and a mischievously seductive smile slipped onto his face. “Princess,” he began. As soon as she heard that nickname, she knew she was in trouble. “I will tell you everything that you want to know.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I want something in return.”

  Of course, he did.

  “I’m not just going to let you take control of everything; I’m not going to jeopardize getting this painting back.”

  His gorgeous face broke out in laughter; his head falling back for a moment. “Ahh… I would never expect you to relinquish that much control, Your Highness, don’t you worry.”

  And it was at that moment that she knew that he was going to ask her to do exactly that… if not more.

  “I will tell you everything that you want… in exchange for a kiss.”

  The words hung between them, suspended in the tension of the air – tension that had been born out of anger, frustration, and the need for control. All of that disintegrated amidst the pull of desire that was between them.

  She stared into his eyes knowing that she couldn’t say no. But it wasn’t because she needed the information – no, that was only a lie that she would tell herself later.

  She couldn’t say no because she didn’t want to.

  She wanted him.

  She wanted this darkly glaring devil because sometimes, good girls like her needed a little bad in their lives; she needed just a little bit of that alluring darkness to break through the pristine shell that was slowly suffocating her.

  She wanted to feel wanted… just once.

  Time stopped. The gauntlet had been thrown.

  He’d followed her back here, prepared for another battle – another argument. Still incensed over what Loury had revealed to him and the annoyance that Ana had overheard some of it, he climbed the stairwell irritated to say the least.

  But when he saw her, hands on her hips, waiting for her brother to answer, desire had come charging into the mix, expertly subduing every other thought from his mind.

  She’d gone for weeks pretending like he’d had no effect and now was her chance to prove it. If she wanted him to believe her actions – her dismissal of him was truly how she felt, this was the way; she could tell him ‘no’ and walk away and he would be forced to accept his failure. He would tell her what she needed to know and then continue whatever the hell he needed to get this painting – and this living situation – over with.

  On the other hand, he could only hope that she felt even a sliver of what he did; in which case, this kiss would be sustenance to their starving selves.

  She licked her lips and he almost said to hell with waiting for her answer. Almost. His breath held. And then those beautiful, rose-pink lips of hers said the words that he needed to hear.

  “One kiss.” Her acquiescence was barely audible as though she couldn’t bear to hear herself admit to it.

  But it was enough.

  And the words were barely spoken before his mouth claimed hers.

  Fuck, she was so sweet – sweeter than he’d imagined (and he had a very active imagination). It was just another indication that she was too good for him.

  Like most things, his darkness was drawn inexorably to her light.

  He slanted his lips over hers, his tongue demanding entrance into her mouth. Both of his hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up to his as she opened innocently beneath him. A groan vibrated deep within his chest as his tongue touched hers; it took only a moment of coaxing before their desire began to duel.

  He could tell she wasn’t very experienced – certainly, not like he was. No, if there was ever anyone who could be considered as having ‘too much experience,’ it would be he. Ana, on the other hand, moved timidly underneath him at first; her lips hesitant about what was to come.

  He probably should have taken a simple, gentle kiss, but then again, he never did what he was supposed to. Especially around Ana.

  And if there were anything that he was not supposed to do – it was her.

  His mouth raided hers and, inexperienced or not, she responded with the same passion. Her small moans of pleasure were his undoing as he drank from her pure sweetness.

  His hands dropped from her face to reach around her, one at her back and one gripping into the perfect sphere of her ass, to pull her flush against him.

  And just like the other night, Pierce wondered if this was what Heaven might be like. He knew he’d never make it there, but here… he would gladly die if it meant he could stay here forever.

  Her body molded perfectly to his, the warm, soft juncture of her thighs cradling the hard, aching length of his erection. Those perfect breasts pressed against his chest.

  Her arms came up to wind around his neck, giving him even better access to the sugared mouth. His tongue delved deeper, craving the hot, moist confines of her body – settling on this one for now.

  She pulled back from him and he groaned at the loss.

  “Pierce.” The breathless caress of his name made his arousal throb against his suit pants. “I can’t… we can’t…” She shook her head, trying to find the words. “I think that is enough. Why don’t we go downstairs and finish this conversation?”

  She made a move to walk around him, but his arm came up quickly to stop her in her path; his palm rested on the wall next to her.

  “I know you think I’m lying to you when I say that I was going to tell you,” he whispered hoarsely. “But, that is just as much of a lie as you standing here and telling me that this is enough for you when I know you want more... because I want it, too.”

  Her gaze flared as it found his.

  “I don’t.” She clung stubbornly to her last
thread of control.

  “Prove it,” he echoed her words. The wager he was making was for everything; he was going all in and, for the first time, he wasn’t sure that he was making a safe bet. He leaned in close to her ear. “Tell me that you want me to stop.”

  His mouth continued the sweet torture that it had begun last night, slowing making its way along the honeyed skin of her jawline, waiting for her response.

  “Pierce,” she whispered. “I want you…”

  His whole body felt the sharp stinging pain, but his scar throbbed almost like the night the knife had created it; he’d been wrong. He had misjudged everything that she had felt. He savored every last second that his lips touched her skin, knowing those moments were coming to a close.

  “I need you to say the whole thing, Ana,” he ground out. He needed to hear her say that she wanted him to stop.

  “Pierce, I want you…” She paused again but this time just for a breath. “There is nothing else… I just want you.”

  He pulled back to look at her, unsure that he understood what she was saying. But one look at the glittering gold gaze of hers and he knew exactly what she was saying – what she was asking.

  And God help him or hurt him, he was going to give it to her.

  His mouth crushed hers again. Grabbing her waist, he pushed her up against the wall in the hallway, pressing his body against the burning heat of her.

  She gasped into his mouth and immediately arched against him; it was the most beautiful and arousing thing he’d ever experienced. And he wanted more. He wanted to touch and taste every sweet inch of her, but there was no time for that now. Now, there was only the raging need between them.

  His left hand moved from her side, skating up her side to close his palm over her right breast. One of these days, he was going to burn every one of her goddamn sweaters. Yet, even through the layers, he palmed the swollen flesh that fit perfectly into his grasp.

  Anyone could tell that he didn’t have a type; he enjoyed all shapes and sizes of women. But Ana… the way that she fit against him made him feel like she’d been tailored just for his body. His thumb brushed over her nipple and she moaned his name again.