The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  He hadn’t said anything about the art history classes though. Apparently, looking at nakedness was acceptable as long as it was in ancient and printed form. So, her electives became concentrated to those classes, in spite of Shane’s frequent attempts to guilt her into doing something that would be more useful for her… “for them” … for him. It had been as far away from her major – paralegal – as possible and she’d almost dropped all interest in art several times, but after everything that happened with Shane, she was glad that she hadn’t; she was glad that she’d kept that for herself. It was one of the few things that she hadn’t lost to him. And it had given her some background when she’d started her current job; it was one of the reasons that she’d applied for it.

  “What?” He practically growled, his dark eyes boring into hers.

  “Do you think you’re the only one who can draw?” She didn’t back down. “I want to draw you.”

  An eyebrow raised. “As you wish.” He stepped back and held out his arms. “Where do you want me?”

  “On the couch.” Right where she had just been sitting. “And take off your shirt.”

  That request earned her a scowl, but no smart remark.

  He moved over to the couch, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked.

  Ana tried to keep herself from salivating as the fabric dropped to the floor, revealing a wide, sculpted back, just before he turned to face her and she again saw the jagged scar that cut his chest in two. Following its puckered line led her gaze down to the front of his pants and the fabric that strained over the evidence of his desire.

  Goosebumps covered her body at the thought. Feeling wanted was addictive; there was no question about it.

  She swallowed thickly as he sat down, lounging back against the couch, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking what happened.

  Roles reversed, she reached down to pick up the sketch pad that he’d discarded, taking a seat in his chair.

  “Have you always been this bossy?” his voice rumbled over to her.

  “No.” It had come as a result of Shane. Being bossy kept people at a distance and that was… is… what she needed. “Have you always been this cocky?”

  “Yes,” he smirked at her and she just rolled her eyes. “Do you really know how to draw or was this just an excuse for you to ask me to get naked?”

  Now, it was her turn to glare at him.

  “I do really know how to draw. Although, not as well as you; I will admit to that,” she replied calmly, the pencil beginning to move in short, hesitant strokes over the paper; she hadn’t done this in a very long time. “When did you learn?”

  A shadow passed over his face. “Sometime around high school.”

  “Did your parents put you in a class? I’m sure that your talent was evident back then.”

  This time, he laughed outright. Except it was a harsh laugh, and the words that followed were even harsher. “No. My therapist forced me to do it – some sort of attempt to make me cope.”

  Her pencil froze, her fears over what that scar meant becoming more and more prominent.

  She hazarded a glance at him and the expression on his face made her heart ache. His emotions had overcome him and he’d said too much and for a second, the pain of that recollection and admission was etched into his features. It was quickly covered with a stare that told her further questioning was going to put her on a dangerous path.

  “Why did you have a therapist so young?” she all but whispered, part of her mind engrossed with her drawing which allowed the other part to continue her interrogation without realizing the repercussions of her questions.

  “Court appointed,” he bit out.

  “Why?” she returned.

  No response.

  Her eyes squinted at the paper, trying to get his mouth just right as the questions just continued to flow from her lips with no regard for the havoc they wreaked.

  “Does it have to do with your scar?”

  No response – not that she waited long before continuing. “What is your scar from?”

  “Where they cut out my heart,” he replied hoarsely. Her gaze immediately went to his, wide with shock. He wasn’t serious, was he? “Seriously? Not really, Ana. Don’t worry, I’m not the tin-man, I still have a heart – at least the anatomic one.”

  Her heart began to beat again, this time with a steady thump of frustration for his teasing her like that

  “Why do you do that? Why do you continue to push people away as soon as they try to get close?” she asked angrily, the pencil beginning to move more harshly over the paper. “Even before that? Why do you go against everything that you are asked to do? Even when it’s for your own benefit? Why do you push back against everyone who wants to help you – who wants to care? Why do you purposely try to hurt people who care about you?” The questions flew from her mouth with an angry vengeance.

  She shouldn’t be angry at him – this was typical for Pierce – and her questions proved that. It was her fault for wanting to know more about a man who would take those secrets to his grave. She was the one to blame for trying to get close to someone who only hurt those he was closest to. She was in the wrong and Morgan had even warned her; she’d chosen not to listen.

  “Because,” he roared, “there’s no good reason for them to stay and the sooner that they realize that, the better.”

  “What happened to you, Pierce?” Her voice broke with regret and defeat, all anger leaving her as she heard his heartbreaking answer.

  Silence.

  “Enough, Ana.” The pencil veered at his tone. “I… can’t… I’m sorry…”

  He was sitting up now, leaning forward, his head looking down at the floor as his hands gripped the edge of the couch on either side of his legs. At the sight of him, she immediately regretted her words. Pierce looked like he was in the midst of a battle – a battle to defeat horrible memories that she’d unleashed. His eyes were focused on the floor and Ana could tell that he was losing.

  Setting the pad and pencil down, she padded her bare feet over to stand in front of him, immediately dropping to her knees between his legs.

  Finally, his eyes looked at her, their black depths drowning in anguish. “You should go,” he rasped.

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving, Pierce. I’m not leaving you.” She’d been so stunned by his show of emotions that she hadn’t even realized her own until she heard the thickness in her voice from the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes.

  “Fuck. Don’t pity me, Ana,” he said harshly.

  Her tear-filled eyes raised to his. “I don’t pity you,” she said thickly. “I wish I could be like you.” She wished she could control her emotions like he could. She wished she could just take from others what she needed to make her feel better without risking anything in the process. She wished she could not want more from life… from love… from him.

  His right hand came up to cup the side of her face. “You don’t want to be like me, Princess.” A softer thread made its way into his tone as his thumb brushed over her quivering lower lip. “You deserve so much more than me.”

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she whispered, trying to blink back her tears even though the action just made them fall faster.

  “Don’t…” He shook his head, his hand dropping from her face. “Don’t fucking be sorry, Ana. I’m the asshole. I’m sorry. And you should go before I do something else that I’ll regret. Please.”

  Seeing the pain and anguish on his face, seeing just how hard he was trying to save her from himself, she knew she couldn’t leave. And she knew there was only one way to get him on board with that.

  “I’ll forgive you and I’ll leave, but I need you to do one thing first.”

  A small laugh escaped his lips. “Always demanding…” He sighed. “What do you want Ana? The tickets?”

  She bit her lip, a thrill shooting through her as the small action vibrated through his body, desire tensing over every muscle.

  An
d then she said, “One kiss.”

  Pierce might have been the devil, but sometimes, good girls like her needed some bad in their lives; she needed a little bit of that alluring darkness to break through the pristine shell that was slowly suffocating her.

  Chapter 14

  One kiss.

  Pierce groaned.

  She was going to be the death of him.

  One fucking kiss.

  It was the cherry on top of everything unexpected that was happening to him tonight.

  First, the question about his bed. He’d never told anyone that he’d almost died – almost bled out from the cut of the knife – in a bed and that’s why he could no longer sleep in them. He could barely touch them without his body going haywire.

  Then, she’d asked to draw him.

  He’d gotten that request before and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d acquiesced to it. Usually, it was a pointless ploy to further along the sexual part of an evening – but not with Ana. No, she’d actually sat down and become engrossed in the sketch. And he’d wanted her – wanted her attention – to the point where she’d asked questions that he’d never in a million years would have pictured himself answering, but he did. Something inside of him compelled him to share those parts of his past with her.

  Unfortunately, reaching inside for those responses had also brought back up memories that reliving would either kill him or cure him; it was a fifty-fifty shot. And since he only took bets that he knew were a sure thing, he knew he needed to cut the conversation short. He needed to close up the Pandora’s box that she’d opened.

  It was at that point that she chose to ask about his scar and his vision went red.

  His chest burned. It burned so painfully that he wanted to scream; he wanted to punch something. He needed to get it out and he was afraid that all of that pain and rage was going to be loosed on her. It was why he needed her to leave. Hell, every minute of this evening should have told her she needed to leave. No – forget leave – she never should have followed him here in the first place.

  And yet, she stayed. She stayed and talked and drew and made him want to tell her things that made him hate himself. It made him want to be healed. It made him want to be better.

  It also made him acutely aware of just how much damage he could do to her when she realized that he was beyond repair.

  He liked games. He liked pushing people’s buttons. He liked to hurt people enough to try to push them away. But the thought of doing those things to her was beyond comprehension.

  So, he’d told her to leave.

  And his beautiful, stubborn, demanding Queen responded with ‘one kiss.’

  His fingers dug harder now into the couch – a poor substitution for the soft, golden woman kneeling in front of him. Their eyes were locked and he fought against himself to do the right thing – to force her to leave the room and to leave him.

  He was only going to destroy her… like he did everything else.

  Ana deserved Prince fucking Charming, not his damned self.

  God, he was such an ass. But he had no control when it came to her; her wish was his command. One kiss, though, and then she had to leave.

  “For you,” he rasped, “anything.”

  Before he could even take a breath, her lips were on his and all rational thought was lost.

  Pure, innocent, and sweet – her mouth tasted exactly as he remembered it.

  This time, he didn’t have to coax her tongue, she was ready and waiting for his. His hands came up to her face, tilting her head back to give him deeper access to her mouth.

  “Ana,” he moaned her name. A plea. A prayer.

  She barely registered him saying her name. All she knew was that his mouth was briefly parted from hers and that was unacceptable. She wanted more of him.

  And she wanted to give him more.

  Earlier, he had given her something beautiful, something she didn’t think possible for herself; he’d given her something more than he would ever know. And now she was going to return that as very best as she could.

  There was the twinge of self-doubt, knowing just how many women Pierce had been with and how many of them had probably done what she was about to. But she couldn’t think about that now or she would back herself into a corner of insecurity. Her relationship with Shane had deteriorated, especially their intimate one, but if there was one thing that he had wanted on a semi-regular basis from her… if there was one thing that she had been able to please him with… it had been her mouth.

  After what he had done, she’d sworn that she would never want to do this for anyone ever again – to give so selflessly. But when she looked up and saw Pierce, tortured and tormented from telling her things that he’d clearly never spoken of before, all she desired was to pleasure him; all she wanted was to give without taking anything in return.

  She pressed her lips back onto his, enjoying how he was momentarily taken aback before giving over to her mouth.

  She felt how he struggled – as much as he had invited her up there, had made insinuating comments, when it came right down to it, he’d wanted her to leave before he did something to her that they couldn’t come back from.

  Moving her hands to his shoulders and using the force from her legs, she pushed up and forward, forcing him back against the back of the couch. He groaned, but his mouth didn’t leave hers. Her hands slid to his chest, about to push back, but she paused, needing the heat from his mouth a moment longer.

  She loved the way that his mouth captured and explored hers, as though every inch of it was a treasure worth tasting. Every lick and swipe of his tongue stoked the fire that was building between her thighs, her body remembering just what pleasure he’d given her earlier. But even more than she wanted to feel that again, she wanted to feel him.

  Finally, she pushed against the hot, hard planes of his chest, breaking her mouth from his. Their eyes immediately collided again, both of them breathing heavily.

  Ana could feel the beating of his heart racing underneath her right hand… and underneath his scar. Her gaze slid from his down to where her thumb, index, and middle finger were resting on the smooth, sealed flesh. The texture of it underneath her fingers was familiar, although her scar was much larger.

  She heard him suck in a breath as her fingers began to slide up the discolored, smooth path. His body was taut with desire… and something more… because of her touch.

  Her mouth parted as her fingers traced up over his collar bone and up onto his neck, pausing when she reached the top of the injury.

  “What are you doing?” his tortured voice asked.

  She leaned closer to him, heading for his mouth again but only grazing the corner of his lips before hers slid up to his ear.

  “Stop questioning me,” she whispered.

  And then, before she knew what came over her, her lips began trailing kisses down his neck, pausing at the top of his scar before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the injury.

  Pierce groaned as her tongue darted out to lick along the smooth skin. One of his hands moved up to spear through her hair, holding her even tighter against him. The other grasped her left wrist, slowly sliding up her arm.

  Her mouth continued its exploration, enjoying the hot, masculine spice of his skin on her tongue.

  His right hand reached the top of her shoulder and her body went into overdrive.

  She immediately released her mouth from him, but instead of pulling back, she pushed forward.

  Her left hand slid quickly up over his hip and came to rest on the hard length straining against the front of his pants.

  “Fuck, Ana,” he swore as his hips jerked off the couch against her hand.

  Her movement worked. His hand dropped from her shoulder to cover her own with a vise-like grip, holding her firmly against his throbbing arousal.

  “Do you know what you are doing?” he asked hoarsely.

  She just bit her lip as she smiled at him.

  Her right hand pulled h
is fingers from hers, pushing them to the side. The black coals in his eyes were rimmed with red hot fire as he watched her every move. He watched as she moved his hand away. He watched as her mouth slowly returned to his skin, only this time much lower on his scar – near where it ended on his stomach. And she was sure he watched as her hands began to undo the waistband of his pants.

  His stomach was tight and unmoving underneath her lips until she’d pulled his zipper all the way down, semi-releasing his erection from its strict confines. Then she felt – and heard – the air release from him with a moan.

  With one last kiss at the lowest tip of the scar, her gaze shot up to his face. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back; he looked like having her there was torture, but sending her away would be even worse.

  She looked to where her hands had paused on his pants and it only took her a second to realize that he wasn’t wearing underwear.

  Another glance up at him found her lost momentarily in his smoldering stare.

  “Ana…”

  Another rush of warmth seeped between her legs. The way he wanted her made her feel so damn hot. It made her want to give him exactly what he wanted.

  She licked her lips and her eyes returned further south. Tugging his pants down slightly, her right hand pulled his arousal free from the fabric. ‘Fuck’ she heard him curse as she grasped his hard length.

  Her mouth salivated – both with desire and hesitation.

  Shane had not been this big.

  Ana wasn’t quite sure how this was going to work, but the last thing that she wanted was for Pierce to see her uncertainty.

  No, he’d already been with so many women, had had this done so many times that, she didn’t want him to think her an inexperienced fool.

  Even though she really was.