Recluse: Wolfes of Manhattan Two

by HELEN HARDT

  A small door led to an attached bathroom with a clawed tub and separate shower. The bathroom seemed small, until I remembered that this wasn’t the master suite, which would have a decadent bathroom.

  Another door housed what I assumed was a closet. I fought the urge to open it. I was already invading his privacy.

  No. Just change, Charlie, and get out of here, back to Roy.

  I shed my work clothes but left my bra and panties on. Then I wrapped the luxurious robe around me, my nipples hard against the lace of my bra. I itched to touch myself, to pinch my nipples and feel the ripple of pleasure it would bring.

  I closed my eyes and imagined Roy’s firm lips encircling one, his fingers tugging at the other. I squirmed against the tickle between my legs.

  He just wants to paint you, Charlie. You’re getting overeager.

  Of course, he also asked you to dinner…

  I stopped the jabbering in my brain, adjusted the band holding my ponytail—half the hair had come out of it. What must I have looked like when I showed up at his door?—and walked back to the studio. The door was still open, so I walked in casually. At least I hoped I looked casual. Inside, my heart was beating a mile a minute.

  Roy had his head bent over a palette, mixing paint.

  I cleared my throat in what I hoped was a ladylike manner.

  He looked up and studied me. No smile, but he regarded me intently.

  “Can you take your hair down?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I pulled the scrunchie and then shook my head to let the hair fall sort of into place. “Let me go brush it out.”

  “No. Don’t. It’s perfect just the way it is.”

  “It’s got to be a mess.”

  “It is. I like it. It goes great with that faraway sparkle in your eyes. Just what I’m going for.”

  Faraway sparkle? Horny sparkle was more like it. I knew well what my hair looked like after I took it out of a ponytail.

  A mess.

  A big mess.

  Hardly what went with any kind of sparkle.

  “Really, it will look better if I just brush it out.”

  “I won’t hear of it. Come here and sit on this stool.” He gestured. “I’ll need to adjust the lighting.”

  I obeyed and sat down, letting the robe open to show a fair amount of cleavage. This wasn’t like me, but I wanted Roy to look at me. To really look at my body, which was pretty darned good. Thank you, yoga and Jazzercize.

  He didn’t seem to notice the exposed chest, though. He busied himself with the lighting, and then he touched my hair and rearranged it a little.

  Hair had no feeling, but I swore electricity shot through his fingertips into my scalp and throughout my whole body. The tickle between my legs intensified.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, meeting my gaze.

  His eyes seemed almost black, as if they’d darkened, which I didn’t think was possible. Must have been my imagination.

  “Th-Thank you.”

  “Your eyes… I know I’ve said this before, but I’ve never seen anything like them, silver. They’re the color of the full moon shining through a night fog.”

  I couldn’t stop a squeaky sigh from coming out of my throat. His words did more for my body and my mind than Blaine Foster, or anyone else, ever had.

  He gazed at me intently. “You ready?”

  “S-Sure.”

  “I’m going to put my interpretation of you on this canvas, but know this, silver. It will never be as beautiful as you are.”

  That damned squeaky sigh again…accompanied by a growl from my stomach, a reminder that I hadn’t eaten since the lunch in the conference room—the lunch Roy and I had picked up in the lobby, the lunch he set down when he asked me to dinner, the lunch where he refused to meet my gaze.

  He didn’t appear to have heard my stomach’s hungry protest. Good. Here I was, modeling for a professional artist, and I couldn’t keep my body from making inappropriate noises. If I got gassy, I’d be mortified.

  “Keep your back straight,” he said, regarding his canvas.

  Had I been slouching? I corrected my posture. The stool had no back, so I had to make myself sit up straight.

  “Good,” he said, without looking.

  “How do you know I did anything?”

  “I heard the robe rustle. As an artist, I’ve trained all of my senses to be a little more aware.”

  “Why don’t you let your models sit in a chair with a back?”

  “Because I want to see you as you are, not propped up by something inanimate.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure I understood, but I wanted to do whatever I could to make this easy for him. If he enjoyed painting me, he might ask to do it again, and then I’d get to see him once more.

  Of course he’d already asked me to dinner. In fact, he’d promised me a gourmet feast if I posed for him. My stomach gurgled again.

  His shoulders quivered slightly. Shit. He’d heard! Of course he’d heard. He just got done telling me how great his senses were. No reason to get upset. We were adults here, and all adults knew that stomachs growled when they were hungry.

  “How long will this take?”

  “I’ll get the nuances down in an hour or so. Then you can eat.”

  “No worries. Take as long as you need.”

  “I don’t want to keep you past midnight. I know you have work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. True.”

  “Now we need to stop talking. I want you to look at the wall, focus on the spot right over my head, okay?”

  I nodded. At least I wouldn’t be looking right at him. That helped. Otherwise I’d need to squirm against the pressure between my legs.

  I might need to anyway.

  Roy Wolfe was the sexiest man I’d ever met. Truly.

  He washed the canvas in a gray. First I thought it was black, but then I realized the color on his brush wasn’t complete darkness.

  “You don’t have to let the background dry?” I asked.

  “Nope. Not with the technique I plan to use. Now no more talking.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  Focusing on the wall above his shoulder, I could only see him peripherally, and I longed to watch the expression on his face as he brushed my image onto his canvas.

  I remained as still as I could, with the throbbing between my legs.

  6

  Roy

  The dark gray represented nighttime. Her moonlit features would be more pronounced against darkness.

  Her caramel-colored hair fell in sporadic loose waves around her shoulders. If only she’d shed the robe, and I could see her in her naked glory.

  But it was too soon for that. I was too attracted to her. She wasn’t just any model. She was a woman I wanted in my bed. Really wanted in my bed. If I saw her body, I wouldn’t be able to capture what I longed to on this canvas.

  The lighting cast silver highlights in her hair, and I brushed little glints of zinc white over the soft browns.

  The flesh tones of her face were easy to paint and contour. First things first, because what I wanted to focus on were those eyes.

  So silvery and sparkling, they gazed above my shoulders as I’d instructed her. Good thing. If she were looking at me, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. As it was, I was having a hard time, but I placed my need to paint her above the ache in my groin.

  I mixed the zinc white with a touch of ivory black and added some blues. Nope. I tried again. Nope. Then once more. A little closer.

  I began painting her eyes. Damn. Still not perfect. Why was that silvery hue eluding me?

  “Fuck,” I said aloud.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your eyes. They’re not right.”

  “How long has it been?” she asked.

  It had probably seemed like hours to her. I knew well how difficult modeling was. I’d done it during college. “A little less than an hour.”

  “How much do you have done?”

  “Everything.
Except the eyes aren’t right.”

  “You painted a whole portrait in an hour?”

  “It’s an abstract, and yeah. But I’m not happy with—”

  She hopped off the stool. “Let me see.”

  I opened my mouth to try to stop her, but she moved quickly. She faced the canvas with wide eyes.

  “Wow. Just wow.”

  “It’s not right. The eyes.”

  “How can you say that? This is more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

  I gazed into her eyes. “No, it’s not. Not as beautiful as you are.”

  “But it is. You made my hair so…so… And my eyes… It doesn’t look like me at all. I mean, it does, but… It looks like the best version of me, you know what I mean?”

  “I do.”

  But it didn’t. It didn’t capture her ethereal essence. That silveriness in her eyes existed only in her. No pigment could replicate it, even with a master mixing it.

  “I can’t believe it. You’re so gifted, Roy. So much talent.”

  “It’s not my best work.”

  “It is to me.”

  Her pink lips were parted and shiny. I couldn’t help myself. I set down my palette, grabbed her, and pulled her to me. For a few precious seconds, I stared at the miracle that was her, thinking I couldn’t touch her, just couldn’t, because it might mar her perfection.

  Then her tongue touched her bottom lip, and I couldn’t help myself. I crushed my lips to hers.

  Her mouth was already open, so I pushed my tongue in. She tasted like crisp apple wine. A soft moan hummed from her throat into my mouth, and I deepened the kiss, holding her tightly.

  My smock was covered in oil paints. I’d ruin this robe, but I didn’t care. I was a Wolfe. I could buy a million robes. Even if I couldn’t, this kiss was well worth it.

  The inside of her mouth felt like smooth silk. Her arms crept around my neck, the touch of her soft fingers making me even hotter. My cock was already pounding against my jeans, demanding release.

  I wanted her. I wanted Charlie Waters in my bed, and I wanted her there now.

  I’d promised to feed her. Her tummy growling had been so cute.

  But damn, she was kissing me back. Kissing me with urgency, all the urgency I felt myself. I cupped one of her cheeks and then trailed back to her head, threading my fingers through her disheveled hair. So soft, like blades of wheat grass on a summer day.

  Again, the paint. Surely I was painting her. Didn’t care. Didn’t fucking care at all.

  With my other hand, I untied the robe and swept it off her shoulder, letting it hang on one side of her. Then I cupped her pert breast still encased in her bra. Her nipple was hard against the fabric, and I thumbed it gently.

  She shuddered against me, groaning into my mouth.

  Good. She liked that. I liked it too.

  I wanted that hard little nipple in my mouth, between my teeth. I wanted to nip at it until she was squirming like crazy.

  I moved my other hand downward, shoving the soiled robe off her other shoulder. It fell into a heap on the floor. Our mouths were still fused together, so I couldn’t see, but if she was still wearing a bra, she was no doubt still wearing panties as well.

  Damn. My cock was throbbing.

  I’d just had sex recently with a waitress in Montana, and already I was way more turned on after one kiss with Charlie Waters.

  I broke the kiss with a loud smack, panting. “I want you, Charlie,” I said huskily.

  “I”—inhale—“want you too.”

  “Fuck.” I unclasped her bra quickly and freed her breasts. God, they were more amazing than I’d imagined. Pert and perky, medium-sized and perfect, fair with reddish-brown nipples that were hardened into little knobs.

  I was going to take her. I was going to take her right here in my studio. My studio was my haven. I’d never done anything other than paint in here.

  That was changing tonight.

  I eased her panties down her hips until they met the floor. Then I unsnapped my jeans and freed my aching erection. I lifted her, still wearing my soiled smock, and set her down on my hard cock.

  “Condom?” she said on a breath.

  Shit. Really? I was usually so careful. “Clean. You?”

  “Yeah. And on the pill. Thank God.” She sighed. “Feels so good.”

  God, did it. She was wet for me. So wet, and sans condom I could feel every ridge inside her.

  I hadn’t kissed her body. I hadn’t touched her smooth folds. I hadn’t sucked on those amazing nipples.

  Hell, I hadn’t even undressed.

  I’d never in my life been so hungry for a woman that I neglected to undress.

  But here I was, holding this beautiful naked woman in my arms, fucking her against a wall in my studio.

  “Roy, oh my God!” She clamped around me, milking me with her climax.

  This wouldn’t take long.

  Not long at all.

  “Ah! God!” I released inside her, filling her.

  And feeling more alive than I had in a long time.

  7

  Charlie

  When he stopped pulsating, Roy eased me off his cock until my feet touched the floor. Sweat from his brow dripped onto me and slid down the side of my face in a tiny warm river.

  Then he looked at me with a searing gaze. “That’s not how I wanted this to go.”

  Was he regretting it already? I wasn’t sure what to say.

  He cleared his throat. “I mean, look at you. Gray and brown paint all over your beautiful body from my smock.”

  I hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it. Sure enough, oil pigments were smudged all over my chest, abdomen, and thighs.

  “It’s okay.”

  “You don’t understand. I wanted to have you in a bed, where we could go slowly, where I could gaze into those eyes…”

  Though my heart had finally slowed down after the fucking, it now sped up again with full force.

  Silence for what seemed like a long time, until my tummy growled again.

  That got a little smile out of him. “I promised you food.”

  “It’s late,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Nope. I promised, and I always keep a promise. I’ll order something. What do you like?”

  “Everything. From chateaubriand to pizza. I like everything.”

  “How about Thai? There’s a great place that delivers quickly.”

  “Will they deliver this late?”

  “Yup. I don’t exactly keep normal hours. When inspiration strikes, I paint, and meals wait until I can take a break. I’ll call them. In the meantime, you can use my bathroom to take a shower if you want.”

  Did he know he was being a little dismissive? He hadn’t even asked me what I wanted from the Thai place. Of course, I’d said I ate everything. As long as it didn’t contain goat cheese—not exactly a Thai staple—I’d be good. “All right.”

  “There’s some grapeseed oil on the bathroom counter. It will help get the oil color off you if you have trouble.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that. Then again, I’d never been covered in oil paint. I held up the robe. “This is ruined, I think. I’m sorry.”

  “So what? I’ll get more.” He smiled.

  And my heart started pounding all over again. He was surely the most beautiful man in the world. Why wasn’t he a model like his sister? He was perfect.

  “Uh…okay. I guess I’ll take a shower, then.”

  I walked out of the studio, back to his bedroom, and into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and—

  “Oh my God.” My reflection stared at me. My hair was in complete disarray, and yes, my body was smudged all over with oil paint, mostly shades of silvery gray. He truly had been trying to get my eyes exactly right.

  I stared at my eyes in the mirror.

  Blue-gray eyes, a little too small, nothing special. While not my worst feature, they were far from my best.

  But Roy Wolfe saw something in t
hem, something I couldn’t define.

  Silver? I laughed quietly as I shook my head. They weren’t silver.

  Silver was the color of the moon shining on snow-covered pine trees.

  My eyes were dull gray.

  I turned on the shower and waited until it began to steam up the mirror, covering the “silver” of my eyes. I dabbed some of the grapeseed oil on my body and then stepped under the warm pelting water.

  Perfect. It felt perfect. I used the shampoo and body wash to thoroughly cleanse myself, and then I stepped out and turned off the water.

  I wrapped a large bath towel around my body and looked again in the mirror. Something felt different, but I wasn’t sure what.

  Then I realized. It was my skin. My skin felt…nice. Nice and moisturized. Usually I felt tight and itchy until I applied lotion all over my body.

  What was different?

  My gaze fell on the bottle of grapeseed oil. It had removed the paint and also left me feeling like I was on a tropical island. I smiled at myself.

  This was turning out to be a great night.

  I dried off and realized I hadn’t brought my clothes in with me. I toweled off my hair, wrapped another dry towel around my chest, and walked out to the bedroom to get my clothes.

  Roy stood in the bedroom, holding a clean robe and smiling. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I walked back into the bathroom to put the robe on and laughed aloud. He’d just seen me naked. Why was I suddenly so modest?

  I shed the towel and wrapped myself in the robe and went back out. The mural met my gaze. “Tell me about this.” I nodded toward it.

  “Just something I threw together.”

  “Just something you threw together? You’re kidding, right?”’

  “Not really. I couldn’t sleep one night, so I got up, and this is the result.”

  “It’s amazing, but you said you didn’t display your work here.”

  “This is my bedroom. It’s hardly on display.”

  “You mean you don’t… Never mind.”