“Are you?” he asked hoarsely and she told herself that it was only her imagination that detected the hint of hope in his question.
“I… All I know is that I feel like my heart is caged in my chest and it’s beating against the walls trying to get to you.”
Silence.
That moment seemed like an eternity and Ana wondered if what she’d said was too much; if the truth of it was too much. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it would tone down whatever he was or was not feeling for her because at this rate, she was practically begging for heartbreak.
His hand slid up from her shoulder to trace along the soft skin of her jawline.
“You shouldn’t fall for me, Princess – it’s a long way down for you to go.” In his tone she perceived the mingling of sadness and regret – as though what he said wasn’t because he didn’t want her, but because she really shouldn’t want him.
His fingers began to trace their way back down her neck onto her scarred shoulder, desire pooling down deep inside of her again as she shuddered underneath his evocative touch.
Like everything else that he did, again Pierce tried to suggest what was best for her at the expense of himself. Maybe if it were another day or if they were in another situation she would think differently – that he was just trying to appease her and make it easier for him to sever the tie later. But right now, here in the dark, with their naked bodies pressed up against one another, he couldn’t hide behind the callous façade. Ana could see clearly that the gorgeous, talented, and caring man in front of her, truly felt unworthy of any of her affections.
She met his steely gaze. His fingers lingered on her chest – on the area directly over her heart, drawing soft circles on the skin.
“If you give me your heart, Ana, you might never get it back.”
She’d wanted him to take her. To take everything that she had. To take her pleasure.
And she knew that he had.
The problem wasn’t that she was afraid to give him her heart… The problem was there was a good chance that, along with everything else, he’d already taken it.
But it was the middle of the night and the seemingly innocuous conversation had drifted down a deeply emotional road that it seemed like neither of them were prepared for.
What they weren’t afraid to deny – no, what was impossible to deny and necessary to explore – was what was burning inside of them.
“Pierce.” Even her whisper was hoarse with her exponentially increasing desire. She placed her hand on his chest, sliding down the length of his scar towards his waist… and below. “I may not want to fall for you, but I need to fall apart for you.” His eyes darkened at her words and the way her hand drifted lower to the erection that she’d felt pressed against her stomach. “Make me fall apart again.” Whether it was a demand or a plea remained to be determined.
Pierce growled as her fingers closed firmly over his hard length. In return, his hand drifted down to knead her breast. Ana gasped as he thumbed over the sensitive flesh of her nipple, the sensation sending sparks down the kindling of desire pooling between her thighs, ready to burst into flame with every rub.
“Fall apart with me…” she moaned, her head falling back.
His mouth latched onto the golden skin of her neck, sucking on the supple flesh for a moment.
“As you wish,” he rasped against her and then his mouth claimed hers.
Her eyes shut and she drifted back into this very real dream where she was everything that he could ever want.
Chapter 26
Pierce groaned, wondering where the hell he was and why was he so comfortable; he was never this comfortable in the morning given his necessary sleeping arrangements. The thought immediately provoked his recollection of the night before – the auction… Ana… her scar…
And everything that happened afterward.
Not the least of which was that he’d slept in a bed for the first time in decades. And he’d done it with her. No, he’d done it because of her.
What the hell time was it?
He groaned, rolling uncomfortably onto his erection. An indication that no matter how many times he’d had her last night, it hadn’t been enough.
Would it ever be?
The thought came unbidden to his mind and he quickly suppressed it. Right now, all he knew was that he wanted her again.
His hand reached out, expecting to find her warmth but came up empty. His mood instantly darkened when he realized the other side of the bed was empty. Pierce pried his eyes open, struggling to adjust to the light in the room to see first the impression in the sheets where Ana had slept. He took a deep breath, inhaling the remainder of her rose-scent.
Movement caught his eyes and his gaze refocused further out, seeing Ana sitting in a chair with his sketchpad propped on her knees in front of her. Only, she wasn’t looking at his sketches, she was making one.
Of him.
And to top it off, the damn minx was wearing one of his shirts.
She peered up over the paper. Her warm, hazel eyes alighted when she realized that he was awake.
“What are you doing?” he rasped.
His arousal throbbed at the endearing and erotic blush that spread across her cheeks. And lower…
“You looked so peaceful.”
He pushed himself up. “I think that was the best night’s sleep that I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Her question was completely serious, emphasized by her surprised expression. “I’m surprised… you didn’t get much sleep.”
“I never said that it was because of the amount that it was the best…”
At his words, those damn lips of hers parted and gave him no choice. He stood from the bed, not giving a fuck about the fact that he was completely naked or the fact that his cock was jutting out towards the only thing that it desired.
Pierce clenched his jaw. He had other plans first.
She sat frozen, her wide eyes following him as he walked around the bed towards her.
“I hope it’s ok… that I used your stuff…” her voice cracked as she spoke.
“Did you look through it?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, of course not.”
He walked behind the chair. Her head turned side to side before she realized that he was no longer in her sight unless she were to turn her whole body.
His hands on her shoulders quickly disabused her of any notion of moving.
Pierce bent down behind her, his face next to her ear. “You should look,” he whispered.
During the moment that she paused, he took the opportunity to see what the sketchpad had been hiding. His button-down shirt from the night before was fastened from the bottom up, but she’d left the top two buttons undone and from the looks of it, had nothing on underneath.
Fucking perfect.
His left hand drifted down from her shoulder towards the buttons of the shirt.
“Go ahead. Look.” He insisted and she began to move hesitantly as he unbuttoned one – and then two – more buttons.
He heard her intake of breath as she turned back to the first page, realizing that it was her face on the paper. He waited as she flipped through the first few pages – quick sketches of her that he’d done of different expressions that he’d noticed in the first week or so of their being here. Her determination and drive when she was talking about her work. Her compassion and care when she’d been helping Tash. Her love and affection when she’d talked to her brother. They were all there.
And then began the images of ones that weren’t.
Pierce slipped his hand into the opening in the shirt that he’d created, closing over the soft mound of her right breast as she lingered on the subsequent erotic images.
“Why did you do these?” she whispered.
She was looking at a sketch he’d done of her holding her breasts out, offering them up to him, the artist, to taste… to touch… to trace. He nipped at her earlobe as he pinched her nipple. “Be
cause you’re all I think about.”
“Well,” she let out a small moan, “hopefully, all of your thoughts weren’t this naughty.”
He teased the taut peak of her nipple, enjoying the way her body arched against his hand for more.
“Do you really hope that they weren’t?” he rasped as his right hand began to slide down her shoulder, along the side of her breast, and onto her stomach that quivered underneath its touch.
His hand stopped in its path. “Do you?” he repeated.
“No,” she murmured and he continued his search downward towards the edge of the shirt.
“Keep going.” At his instigation, she flipped to the next page, gasping when she saw what was on it.
It was her, again. This time she was sitting on the edge of kitchen countertop. She wasn’t completely naked though; she was wearing her favorite sweater and one hand was clasping it over her naked chest, shielding it from his gaze. Her other hand, however, was between her spread thighs, her fingers buried in her core, her expression one of intense pleasure as she touched herself.
He didn’t give her the chance to recover before his fingers slipped underneath the edge of his shirt to find her bare sex, soaking wet and waiting.
“Fuck, Ana,” he groaned into her ear as he sunk two fingers inside of her.
She moaned exquisitely at the invasion, sliding her hips forward slightly in the chair to give him better access. He pinched and rubbed over her bud in the ways that he’d learned made her crazy. Her sex gushed against his fingers, letting them slide in and out of her easily. Her head fell back against his shoulder and the sound of her strangled, erratic breaths made his fingers frantic to feel her come.
“Pierce,” she breathed his name as his fingers quickly brought her sensitive flesh to the edge of release before pulling her over it.
His sketchbook fell to the floor as pleasure consumed her body. Her hips undulated against his hand as he rode out the waves of her release.
“Good morning, Princess,” he whispered into her ear.
Slowly, he withdrew his hands from her, bending to one side to pick up the sketch pad before tossing it onto the bed. Turning back to face her, he took in the sight in front of him – Ana sprawled in the chair, her eyes heavy with desire, his shirt unbuttoned, showing just enough of her chest to make his hands ache to touch her again, and her legs parted, showing the soft, sweet heaven that was between her thighs, wet and waiting for him.
Pierce groaned and dropped to his knees between hers.
“Take me,” she whispered, as if reading how much he needed her in his eyes.
It also could have been the way his erection was throbbing, begging to be back inside of her.
Placing the purple, aching head of his cock at her moist, swollen entrance, he pushed himself inside of her once more.
Groaning loudly, his head fell back and his eyes shut as he absorbed the sensation of her tight passage expanding to accommodate him, sucking him into her warmth. When he was finally seated fully inside of her, his gaze returned to the beautiful woman in front of him – a beautiful woman who was still partially covered from his sight.
He scowled, his hands leaving her hips to grasp the edges of his shirt yanking it apart and letting the buttons fly.
Ana gasped and he felt her surprise as her muscles clenched around him.
“Too beautiful to hide,” he rasped, his hands sliding up the flat plane of her stomach to knead her breasts.
She ached underneath him and he couldn’t hold back any longer to enjoy the view. His hips began to move on their own thrusting into her as he felt his release begin to build.
“Again for me, Princess,” he ground out.
One hand moved to anchor her hips as his thrust became more vigorous; the other slid down to her core, his thumb brushing over her sex. Her body responded in an instant.
She was made for him, was all he could think. Her body was made to respond to his.
And his was made to only want hers.
His release tore through him as she screamed his name, her core drawing his release from his body and into hers.
He collapsed onto her chest, their tumultuous breathing in sync as they slowly came back down.
Gently, he began to kiss along her sternum. And then her stomach grumbled.
He chuckled. “I guess that means it’s time for breakfast.”
She laughed softly. “I guess so. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Only for you, Princess,” he murmured. “You seem to be the only thing my body needs…”
She didn’t respond and he knew that he was skirting the line of that territory that they’d spoken of last night – the one where they let this passion become permanent.
He slid out of her, taking her arms to pull her up with him when he stood.
“Let’s get you washed up and then I’ll make us breakfast.”
He led her by her hand into the bathroom before releasing her. Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out a washcloth and turned on the sink.
While he waited for the water to warm, he turned back to her and pulled his destroyed shirt down from her shoulders.
“You could have just unbuttoned it, you know,” she murmured.
He waited until her eyes met his. “Wouldn’t have gotten me to you fast enough.” The blush that crept onto her cheek made him want to take her on the bathroom floor.
Steam now rising from the sink, he held the washcloth underneath the water, letting it soak through.
“We can take a shower later,” he rasped, lowering the washcloth between her thighs. Her hand rose and gripped onto his bicep as the heat of the cloth touched her.
He clenched his jaw as he gently washed the remnants of their desire from her, his eyes drifting to her scarred shoulder.
“Why did you stay with him?” he asked hoarsely.
Her golden eyes widened at his question, her mouth opened and then closed again as she thought how to answer.
“I… I don’t know,” she finally said. “Morgan wanted me to end it much earlier – it’s why we didn’t speak for a few years. I think he always knew that this was the real Shane, although I don’t think he knew the extent of what Shane was really capable of.”
“He should have made you.”
“And, knowing me, do you really think I would have listened?”
No.
She continued as he pulled the washcloth from her, turning his focus to his own body.
“Morgan knew and he tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. I thought Shane loved me and my parents loved him; he was a lawyer, just like my dad. Everything seemed to fall exactly into place; it was like the perfect fit. Maybe that should have been a clue – that it was all too-perfect.”
Pierce returned the washcloth underneath the water, rinsing it, and then wringing it out so tightly he thought he might tear it.
“Sometimes, you think you are doing all the right things for someone – things that should earn you their love and respect.” His gaze returned to hers. “And then they break you.” As they stared at each other, Pierce wasn’t sure if she was referring to herself or to him. “It took me a long time to realize that that wasn’t my fault. It took me an even longer time to accept that the other person hadn’t been deserving of my actions. That was the hardest part, not seeing who he really was, but admitting to myself that I’d made a mistake by continuing to turn a blind eye and believe otherwise.”
Her words reached inside of him and touched the parts that had been damaged – traumatized by his mother. He’d done everything for her love, and even if some of those things hadn’t been on the right side of the law, he was only a kid – what was he supposed to do? She was all he had.
Her words gave him the clarity to see that it wasn’t that he hadn’t done enough; it was that he’d done too much for someone who wouldn’t… or maybe couldn’t… care for him.
She reached out for his hand. “If I’m being honest, I was still blaming myself. Until I met you.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think?” She laughed lightly. “Even though I knew that he was a psycho, I continued to let myself believe that my body was still broken – and not just because of him and what he did; I continued to let myself believe the lies he told me to make me feel like he was doing me a favor by being with me and wanting to marry me – because who would want to be with a woman who couldn’t enjoy sex?”
Her eyes ducked to the ground, suddenly self-conscious about what she was saying.
“Ana.” His knuckles moved her gaze back to his. “Don’t ever hide from me.”
“Thank you for showing me – proving to me – that everything about that relationship was a lie.”
“Princess, I’d do anything to help you heal.” Their gazes remained locked as neither of them said another word, the meaningful silence between them speaking volumes about just how much they meant to each other, but were afraid to admit. “Let me go make some breakfast.”
“I’ll come with you. I don’t trust you on the stove.”
“What if Morgan comes home?” He didn’t want to bring her brother back into this, but he was already on thin ice with him.
Ana walked back out into the bedroom.
“He’s not. I texted him this morning.” She picked up her dress from off the floor, biting her lip and turning back to him. “Do you have something else I could borrow to wear down to my room to change?”
He nodded. “What did he say?”
“The woman is still unconscious, so he’s staying. He was kind of curt about it, but maybe it was just the text. I’ll call him when we go downstairs.”
“I’m surprised that they’re letting him stay with her.” Normally, unless you were immediate family, the hospital wouldn’t let anyone in the room with a patient who was in intensive care.
“Yeah, he didn’t say that they were giving him any problems.” Ana took the t-shirt from my hands and pulled it on over her head. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen?”
“Or I’ll come find you,” he promised with a wink.
The Painter's Passion Page 27