The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  She bit that delicious lower lip and smiled, slipping out of the door.

  Chapter 27

  Ana almost tripped as she skipped down the stairs to her room.

  She felt incredible - there was no other word for it.

  Last night had been the most incredible night of her life - which was saying something considering that it was also the night that she relived the most traumatizing event of her entire life. She laid herself bare – literally and emotionally – in front of Pierce and he'd filled that painful void so completely that her heart thought it might explode.

  Inside her room, she pulled out a pair of underwear, tugging them on over her exquisitely tender lower parts before pulling on a pair of sweats. On her way out of her room, she reached for her sweater that she left draped on the chair next to the door; it had always been her armor, in a sense, that she’d donned before entering the world. Except today – she just looked at it for a moment, and then left it lying there.

  She didn’t need that armor anymore.

  When she got down to the kitchen, Pierce was already there standing over the stove pouring some olive oil into a frying pan. He looked up at her and smiled.

  "I didn't realize you were going to keep my shirt on, Princess."

  "Is that okay?" she asked, stopping in her tracks.

  "Of course. I just don't know who is going to come home and if you are okay with them seeing that."

  She breathed a sigh of relief realizing that he was just looking out for her concerns. Turning towards the fridge, she went in search of the carton of eggs inside.

  "Well, Morgan isn't coming home and I texted Tony this morning asking about Tash. He said that she was still sleeping and he would let me know when she woke up and he would bring her home; he said she had a rough night.”

  "I'm sure," he murmured and his eyes returned to the pan on the stove. For a moment, she wondered if he knew more about why Tash had reacted like she did last night, but how could he?

  She set the carton of eggs on the counter top next to the stove. "Can you handle scrambled eggs?" she teased. "I'm going to call Morgan; I'll be right here if you have any questions."

  The look he gave her said that her teasing would be repaid with interest later. Although, she had a feeling that his teases would be of a completely different sort.

  She thought the phone was going to go to voicemail with how many times it rang before her brother finally picked up.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey," she replied. "What's going on? I haven't heard from you. Has she woken up at all? Is she going to be okay? How are they even letting you in the room with her since you aren't related?"

  "Woah, woah, woah. You have to go slower," Morgan said; he sounded exhausted. "I slept in a hospital chair all night which means I haven't slept. So, one question at a time, sis. Please."

  "How is she?" She figured she should start with the basics and the basics were whether or not their sole link to the missing painting was going to be alive or dead by the end of the day.

  "Still unconscious. The wound was deep and they think it might have nicked her intestine and potentially her liver. They went in last night and cauterized some of the area to stop the bleeding, but she lost too much blood for them to stay in there to do more. So, they had to close her up and start transfusions which ended this morning. This afternoon they are taking her back in to do some more scans and see if there is still any internal bleeding and if she'll require another operation."

  “Shit." Ana sighed and Pierce looked over to her from the stove, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah.”

  “How are they even letting you stay in the room with her? You're not family."

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments before her brother responded, "What can I say? Good looks will get you places."

  She knew he was lying to her, but if it got him in the room with the woman who had all of the information that they needed, did she really care at this point?

  "So, she hasn't woken up at all?"

  "Just briefly when we got here last night," he replied.

  "And did she say anything?"

  "Nothing that would be useful to us." He sighed and sounded like he was debating on whether or not to say more. "What she said was slightly incoherent, but I think she's afraid that the men who are after her have connections either directly or indirectly in the hospital; she was afraid to be here. So, that's why I'm going to stay at the very least until she comes to and I can get more information."

  At this moment, Ana watched as Pierce poured the scrambled eggs into the smoking frying pan causing oil to spit out on to him. He swore and jumped back from the stove and she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her lips.

  "What are you doing?" her brother immediately asked, his tone wary.

  She grimaced. "I... ahh... Just making breakfast." Thinking quickly, she continued with, " I'm waiting to hear from Tony about how Tash is doing."

  "What do you mean? Isn't she there?"

  Shit.

  Even Pierce turned to look at her and she remembered that Morgan had left with the thief before Pierce had instructed Tony to take Tash to his place for the night.

  "I wanted to make sure that she was safe, so Tony let her stay at his place. He's going to bring her back home this morning."

  “I see.” He was suspicious, she could hear it. And she knew the question he wanted to ask, but wasn’t going to because he already knew the answer: So, it was just you and Pierce at the house last night?

  "I have to go. The doctor is here to take her for more tests so I have to speak with him," Morgan said tightly.

  "Okay, let me know how it goes."

  "I will. And Ana, we aren't done with this conversation." And then he hung up.

  She bit her lip, her stomach turning knowing how things had been left between the two of them and now his suspicions were only added to that.

  “What’s wrong?” Pierce asked. She looked up to find his stare boring into her. “What did he say?”

  She shook her head. Her brother, her problem.

  “Nothing.” She stood and walked to the cabinet to get out plates for the two of them. “Just that that knife did a lot of damage and they won't know the full extent until later today. So, he is going to stay at the hospital until then. He said she's mostly been unconscious the whole time, but he thinks that she is afraid that the men who stabbed her or their associates will find her in the hospital."

  Pierce nodded, his black eyes sparking as though he might know more. "And what did he say when you told him about Tash?"

  "Nothing," she mumbled. " He just wondered how she was, but then had to go because the doctor was there."

  "I see," he said disbelievingly. "What's going on between you and Morgan? You seem not to be on the best terms recently. And even before that, I’ve seen the way that you look at him when he cuts you off or tries to take control of a situation that he thinks you can't handle."

  Ana sighed. "He can just be a little overbearing, that's all."

  Pierce laughed. "Well, I've experienced that. Good thing I can be even worse."

  She rolled her eyes at him before continuing, "Morgan has a thing - a complex - where he just needs to be the hero all the time. Don't get me wrong, I love him and sometimes I do appreciate it, or at least, I did. But, he never used to be this overbearing until that night..." She trailed off taking the frying pan from the stove and dividing the eggs between the two plates.

  Pierce remained silent, waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to continue her story.

  "Like I said, he saved my life that night; he was my hero. But I don't think he sees it that way. I mean, he knows that he saved me, but I think he feels guilty for not forcing me to leave Shane earlier in the relationship. I think he feels like he didn't do enough to prevent it from happening. And now he's trying to make up for that by being overly protective and by making sure that nothing and no one has even the slightest chance of getting c
lose enough to hurt me."

  "And I am one of those things." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. And it was something that she couldn't deny. While she couldn't bring herself to believe that Pierce would hurt her, Morgan didn't think the same way.

  "He needs to know, Ana," Pierce said softly between bites of his breakfast.

  He’d spoken the words that they both knew were true. Not that Morgan had any say in whatever was going on between them, but she was his sister and Pierce was his friend and he deserved to find out from one of them before he found out on his own.

  "I know," she sighed. "But I'm not going to tell him over the phone. When he comes back from the hospital I'll talk with him."

  "And you should tell him how you feel," he continued. "If there's one thing that we both know about Morgan it's that he doesn't want to hurt you and if how he's treating you is doing that, he needs to know."

  "I tried to tell him the other day, but we got in a fight; I think he's afraid to see that I can take care of myself now." She picked up the empty plates and took them over to the sink to rinse them off.

  "Is that why you took this job?"

  "Partly. There was the self-defense aspect, but it also allowed me to get away from everything and everyone who knew what had happened and all the reminders that seemed to come along with everything. Plus, I'd always enjoyed art, so the fact that I got to help preserve it or restore it was a welcome perk.” She turned and gave him a smile. "Speaking of art, so it was therapy that got you interested in painting?"

  His mouth thinned at the conversation being turned around back on him, but he didn't try to deflect.

  "At first, no. I was angry at everyone and everything, so I told myself I hated it. But, as I moved around from foster home to foster home, it ended up being the only thing that remained constant. No, it was more than that. It seemed like the only thing I had control over was what I put on that canvas."

  “And were you painting naked women from the start?" Ana teased, but she knew the question had come from her self-conscious insecurities that would take time to fully uproot themselves.

  "No." He smirked. "That only started later after I met Tristan and Sloane, but I will admit that it was entirely my idea. Tristan started the Guild, but I insisted on the subject matter."

  "I bet you did." She rolled her eyes and open the dishwasher to put the plates inside. When she stood back up the hard heat of his body was behind her, pressed flush against her back.

  "I want to paint you," he whispered against her ear.

  Ana sucked a breath knowing just what kind of painting he meant. A thrill went through her body as his hand came around to press firmly against her stomach and she could feel the hard ridge of his arousal against the curve of her ass. And then his hand slid lower, drifting down to cup her core through her sweatpants.

  "Let me paint you, Princess," he whispered hoarsely, again.

  “Why, so you can add me to your long list of seduced subjects?” she whispered back, seeing his body tighten in the chair.

  “Sweetheart, there’s only one list that you are going on and you’re the only one on it.”

  “And what list is that?”

  “The one that seduced me.”

  He spun her around as his mouth crashed onto hers. Hoisting her up into his arms, Ana wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her up the flights of stairs back into his room and the haven that it had become.

  He brought her right into the sitting room, setting her feet gently on the floor. Grabbing the hem of her – his – t-shirt, he drew it up and over her head, dropping it to the ground. She held his gaze as his fingers next hooked into the edge of her sweats and underwear, pulling them down to the floor, gently lifting one leg and then the other to remove the pants completely.

  Ana sucked in a shaky breath when he stepped back, his eyes roaming hotly over every inch of her body. For a moment, she wondered if there was any painting that was going to happen right now because the way he was looking at her made it seem like there was only one thing he wanted to do to her – and it wasn’t paint.

  His self-control must have just barely won out because he turned away from her, saying, “Just give me a sec.”

  “Do you want me to sit?” she asked.

  “No. Stand,” he answered gruffly before adding, “Please.”

  It was as though an invisible bubble had come around her. She watched as Pierce quickly arranged his brushes and paints, pulling out a fresh canvas and setting it on the easel.

  "You are beautiful," he said, his gaze finally coming to rest on her.

  She sucked in a breath and her whole body flushed at the compliment.

  "Say it," he demanded.

  "Say what?"

  "Say that you're beautiful,” he insisted as he dabbed his brushes into the mix of paints.

  "Why?"

  "Because I need to hear that you believe it. I need to see that you believe it."

  Her gaze dropped from his. Ana wasn’t sure that she could comply with his request because she wasn't sure that she did, in fact, believe it.

  "I haven't slept with anyone since I've met you," he said. Immediately her eyes returned to him, wondering why he’d admitted that. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop wanting you. And your damn sweaters. God, I just wanted to burn them all for clouding the brightness of your beauty and strength."

  "Pierce," she began breathlessly, " why are you saying this? You shouldn't... You shouldn't be saying these things."

  "I should because I need you to believe that you are beautiful and I will continue until you do,” he replied harshly as his brush moved over the canvas in short, determined strokes. “The way you went out on a limb to help me – to help us – even though I was a complete ass to you. The way you helped Tash even though I can only imagine the memories it stirred of your own experience.”

  She sucked in a ragged breath, tears dripping from her eyes.

  “Do you believe it yet?” he asked again. “Or should I tell you how beautiful your body is? Especially the way it comes alive underneath my touch.” She felt his gaze sweep over her again. “Or maybe I should tell you that you’re beautiful because somehow, you managed to save me. Somehow, you persisted until you made me believe that there was something of me worth saving.”

  Ana couldn’t take it anymore. She walked over to him and clasped the sides of his face.

  “I’m beautiful, Pierce,” she said firmly. “I’m beautiful…”

  And I love you. She had to bite her lip to stop the last part from coming out.

  Her eyes glanced over at his painting, the sight taking her breath.

  “I’m beautiful,” she whispered again, the image of herself drawing the words from her. But more than what she saw of herself in the painting, she saw what he felt for her.

  “Did you fall for me, Mr. Lane?” she asked, her questioning gaze placing her hand over his heart.

  He let out a short laugh. “Hell, Princess, even the stars would fall for you.” His coal-black gaze found hers.

  She bent down and kissed him with everything that she had. With one hand, he pushed her back up to stand.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  He reached down and picked up an unused paintbrush, running the soft bristles through his fingers.

  “Close your eyes.”

  The next thing she knew, Ana felt those soft bristles of the brush against her skin. First starting along her collarbone, one side and then the other. It lingered on her scar, making sure to stroke over every inch of that skin, painting over her painful past with this passionate present. She shivered as he trailed it down over her breast, swirling over her nipple. She bit her lip in agony at the softness of the touch – she wanted harder; she wanted more.

  “What are you doing?” she moaned.

  “Painting,” he rasped, watching as the bristles spread like a web over her skin. “Painting is not about what you see, Ana, but what you feel… so I’m painting you b
eautiful; I’m painting you mine.”

  Slowly it slid down her stomach to where every sensation pooled. The soft bristles disappeared into her slickness and over her sex. She gasped his name as he painted pleasure over her, her desire soaking into the brush as the masterpiece of her orgasm unfolded before her.

  He continued his torture until she pleaded his name; the brush was too soft. She needed more – she needed him. Dropping it to the ground, he replaced its touch with his thumb, immediately pressing it into her core. Her hands reached out to grip his shoulders as he massaged her sex, bringing her closer and closer to release.

  And then every touch was gone.

  She opened her eyes just as he finished pulling his sweats over his throbbing erection. Grabbing her hips, he yanked her onto his lap, letting out a shout as the full length of him slid easily inside of her passage.

  “Take me,” he rasped.

  She raised and lowered her hips in a frenzy, her sex rubbing against him. He captured her lips, his tongue invading her mouth as she let him invade her body.

  With a final stroke inside of her, they both exploded. Ana collapsed on top of him with the force of her release. Every time they came together, it was like a painful piece of her past was replaced with the care, concern – and dare she say, the love – that Pierce showed her.

  Chapter 28

  As she collapsed against his chest, Pierce knew that that was it. He’d come thousands of miles to escape the affliction that had claimed his friends, but instead of escaping it, he’d flown directly into its arms – into her arms.

  He was in love with Ana.

  And the thought hit him harder than every soul-shattering, physical release that he experienced with her. After seeing her scar, his only thought, his only focus, and the only way he could cope with the knowledge of what had happened to her – since the fucker who maimed her was dead – was to use every broken and battered piece of him to try to put her back together.

  No, that wasn’t right. Anna didn’t need to be put back together; his strong princess managed to do that on her own. His brave girl had put herself back together, yet still refused to see herself as whole.