White-Hot and Hard

by Catherine Chernow

  Sloan looked around. “You have a lot of visitors today.”

  “You can only hope half will respond to an invitation, and that half of those will attend.”

  Sloan saw a man walk through the door. Her eyes widened. “That’s the art critic from the Times.”

  “So it is.”

  She grabbed Dallen’s hand and tugged. “Let’s go talk to him.”

  “I have something else planned right now.” He squeezed her fingers, his grip firm yet gentle, but he didn’t budge.

  She lowered her voice. “You don’t snub the art critic from the Times.”

  A strange look passed over his face when she said the word “snub”. He appeared lost in thought.

  He spoke, his voice giving rise to anger simmering below the surface of his words.

  “I have no intention of ignoring anyone, however, I can sell myself and my work. I don’t need him.” He angled his head. “Or you.”

  Sloan felt her temper soar. “Then why did you invite me?”

  “Perhaps I was curious.” He gave a casual shrug of his powerful shoulders. “I wanted to see if you’d come.”

  “Maybe you don’t need me or my services.”

  He smiled when she uttered the word “services”.

  “But you’d be surprised how much you will need Griffin Thomas’ help.”

  His arrogance made her want to stamp her foot in frustration. She lifted it, intent on doing just that.

  His gaze met hers. His held challenge. She got the strangest feeling that if she did stomp the floor he’d retaliate. This time, her curiosity as well as her body became aroused at the thought of what he might do.

  A tiny part of her wanted to experience the consequence.

  She placed her foot on the floor, choosing to keep it there. “Artists are all cut from the same mold.”

  “A clever statement from a very clever woman.” He bowed his head slightly.

  She couldn’t tell if he joked with her or if sarcasm was behind his acerbic tone.

  “And just how are all we artists the same?” he asked.

  “You have huge…” Her eyes swept over his groin. “Egos.”

  She swallowed back desire and something else, a bit of fear. Of what she wasn’t sure.

  He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, “So you’ve noticed.”

  She didn’t know if she wanted to smack him or reach down and squeeze his “ego”.

  He walked away, his swagger confident. Just when she thought he would ignore Griffin, he switched tracks, reaching out to shake the critic’s hand. She couldn’t hear what they said but it seemed as though Griffin was pleased.

  She exhaled, her sigh filled with relief.

  Why should she care? She glanced around Dallen’s studio, her eyes settling on his sculptures.

  He was damn good, that was why. It was imperative that she care before someone else did. Miles was right, she needed fresh, new talent to pander…

  And all the money that came with it.

  She’d be damned if she’d touch the trust fund her father had left her. She had done all right these last few years, although the sagging economy made her rethink dipping into her inheritance.

  Promoting a client as talented as Dallen O’Neal would enable her to continue to lead her current comfortable lifestyle.

  She heard raised voices coming from the other side of the room.

  Dallen focused his attention on a group of young women gathered off to the side, near some nude statues.

  It rankled to see him with those other women.

  One minute he was paying her so much attention she felt as if she were the only person in his studio and the next, his shitty, cocky attitude made her so angry she wanted to scream.

  Damn, her pussy still throbbed.

  She should just leave, walk right out the door and never look back, but the sight of the nude figures made her body melt, had desire pooling between her thighs. She was trying not to be obvious about her arousal or how much it was fired by not only the art but the artist, but she couldn’t prevent her eyes from drifting to the sculpted figures again.

  Dallen O’Neal was one dangerous man…and so was his art.

  Chapter Two

  The sculpted nudes were turned so that their bare bottoms faced the interior of the studio. The chiseled female bodies showed fine detail in their breasts, tipped with exquisitely formed nipples. Their nude backs were long and narrow, the curve ending just above their naked backsides, sculpted to perfection, showing off their rounded glory.

  Sloan’s eyes were drawn to their bottoms. Hers got all tingly. For one crazy minute, Sloan wished she could have been one of the models.

  She shut her eyes, imagining how it would feel to spend a lazy, rainy afternoon in Dallen’s studio, posing naked for him. Sloan opened her eyes and looked around, hoping no one had seen her. To her dismay, the art critic from the Times nodded in her direction. She waved, knowing she should go over and speak with him. If only she could get her feet to move.

  Dallen’s voice rang out, cutting through her musings.

  “Today I’m selling two nude statues for the price of one.”

  A collective murmur rose in the crowd.

  “Here’s the catch—you must be willing to strip naked for art’s sake.”

  Some people gasped. Others laughed.

  “You’re not serious, are you?” one woman called out. She gave Dallen a heated look.

  Sloan felt the nip of jealousy. It sank its teeth straight into her heart.

  “I’m very serious.” Dallen’s gaze traveled to Sloan.

  Heat enveloped her body.

  A group of women tittered. “So if someone strips right here and now, they get two statues for the price of one?” one of them asked.

  Sloan hated the envy that tore at her heart. They were so young, maybe in their late twenties, and Dallen was a hot number with an aura of innate sexuality.

  Oh, why should she care, anyway? He said he didn’t need her.

  Just fuck it all and walk away, Sloan. There is plenty of great talent to promote in New York.

  One of the women shouted, “What if the whole bunch of us strips, what do we get?”

  Dallen laughed. “Very cold.”

  The rest of the group snickered.

  “How about you?” Sloan called to him, wondering from where her bravado arose. “Would you strip in the name of art?”

  Her voice was crisp and clear but her knees wobbled. If Griffin wasn’t standing behind her, she would have slid down to the floor.

  He whispered, “This is all going into my column. My readers are going to be enthralled. He’ll have scores of patrons in no time.”

  She wanted to push Dallen.

  “So? What will you do, Mr. O’Neal?”

  Something sparked in Dallen’s eyes. For just a second, she thought their blue color deepened. She saw a dot of brilliant azure light his eyes from within, making her mindful of the hottest part of a flame.

  Her body shook with unbridled lust while he made his way through the crowd, heading right toward her.

  * * * * *

  Finally, after all these years, Dallen O’Neal had the great Sloan Benton in the palm of his hand.

  He heard Griffin Thomas mention something to her about writing everything in his column.

  Sloan was probably dying for a piece of his success.

  He’d worked hard, toiling at myriad jobs over the last few years, just to make ends meet. He sold some of his work but not enough to earn him a living just from his art.

  You either loved art or you didn’t. You worked at it, always hoping that someday someone would notice. He secretly craved that special recognition of his work and all the rewards that came with it. He wanted more than a small following. He wanted fame.

  It was a double-edged sword of desire, love for art and the longing for notoriety.

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Ms. Benton,” Dallen s
aid. “I’ll strip for you if you’ll strip for me.”

  Laughter ensued.

  “Now you’re talking,” someone shouted.

  “Oh hell, let’s get to it.”

  A man and a woman stripped down to their underwear.

  Sloan had a petulant look on her face, as though a small part of her was annoyed that she hadn’t dreamt all this up to promote Dallen.

  Someone lifted a cell phone and snapped a picture of the partially nude couple. Soon others did the same, the flash of lights illuminating Dallen’s small studio.

  People walked in off the street, filling the cramped space just to see someone strip “for art’s sake”.

  “The police will be here. They’ll shut down your studio,” Sloan hissed at Dallen.

  He grinned. “More publicity.”

  “You’ll be selling all your sculptures from jail.” She folded her arms across her breasts.

  “I’m not the one removing my clothes for art’s sake.” He aimed his thumb over his shoulder. “They are.” He angled his head. “How about you? Do you love art enough to bare all for it?”

  A tiny muscle near her left eye quivered.

  “I love art more than you could ever know or understand,” she whispered.

  He wiped all emotion from his face, surprised and pleased by her passionate statement.

  “Then prove how you feel about art.” He lowered his voice. “Strip for me privately.” He gave her a wry grin. “As a model, of course.”

  She shook her head, her body trembling.

  “You’re crazy.” A corner of her mouth lifted. “Absolutely out of your mind.”

  “I’ll gladly do the same for you, for art’s sake. We could spend the week together, here, upstairs in my loft. You wouldn’t regret one second of it. You’ll pose for me and I’ll sculpt you. I’ll capture the essence of your magnificent body for all time.”

  Her green eyes dilated. Her face softened.

  He longed to take it between his hands and kiss it.

  “You’d sculpt me, the same as those nudes over there?”

  “I did those a few years ago. I’ve learned a lot since then.”

  “They’re exquisite in their form and line. Very real.”

  Damn, but her high opinion of his work sucked him in. He felt as if he were that scrawny young kid all over again, hanging on her every word.

  He decided he wouldn’t stop at kissing her face. He’d place his lips on that glorious ass of hers. He’d feast on breasts and cunt. He wouldn’t stop until a pleasure-filled scream bearing his name escaped her mouth.

  “I never say things I don’t mean,” she responded, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Do you?” Sloan looked him directly in the eye.

  “Never.” He smiled, wondering if she was as smart and astute about art as everyone claimed. “But there’s another catch. If you want to be one of my models, you have to tell me the medium I used to sculpt our ‘friend’ over there.” He pointed at the figure of the woman’s spread legs.

  She glanced once more at the nudes fashioned in white marble. Then she looked at the sculpture of the woman’s legs and cunt. Her eyes widened. “I would have never guessed. You used marble to sculpt the soapsuds and the woman’s legs and thighs.”

  “You’re right. I did use marble.”

  She shook her head, her face filled with awe. “That marble is so smooth, seamless. You sculpted that whipped cream and soapsuds without any harsh edges or lines, and I have no idea how you did that. Someone might think it is all real.” She inhaled sharply, her breasts rising and falling in a quick, jerky motion, the wonder on her face turning to excitement. “As terrific as those nudes are, the marble you used to sculpt them doesn’t have the same quality.”

  He hated that her intelligent summation of his work pleased him so much. She’d be a worthy opponent in his plan to seduce her. Now he just had to tap into what she enjoyed in bed. He sensed that she had temper and spirit, maybe even a wild side lurking beneath that cool, calm veneer.

  Everyone probably did exactly as she bade.

  She was spoiled and sultry.

  A potent sexual combination he couldn’t resist.

  “I know great art,” she told him. “How to describe it to its best advantage and how to sell it.”

  His dick paid her tribute once more, and urgency filled his body. In that minute he wondered if the old adage was true, that life and art were inexplicably bound together, fueling each other. The crowd he’d so desperately wanted to gather earlier now annoyed the hell out of him. He wished he could kick each person right out the door and just be with Sloan.

  Business first, pleasure later.

  He just had to convince his stiff cock.

  “Now you must do something for me.”

  He raised a brow. “What?”

  “Agree to become my client.”

  He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, Sloan.” He drew out her name purposely.

  “I can assure you that with the right promotion, you’ll sell your art quickly and for the highest price.”

  He couldn’t wait to chip away at the hard surface of her outer shell and get to the real Sloan Benton. Curiosity filled him, making him eager to know what lay beneath. He would be her client or anything else she wanted if he could glimpse her mind. And heart.

  Then he would break it and enjoy watching it crumble.

  “It’s a deal.” He reached for her hand, drawing her forward. “I’ll be your client.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. He shrugged, not feeling the least bit casual. “What happens after that, well…”

  After all this time, he still felt the yearning for her wide, generous mouth.

  He pulled her toward him and kissed her, his lips branding hers. She didn’t resist. Her mouth tasted of coffee and mint and, oh hell, he was lost. If he didn’t stop kissing her now, he’d fuck her right there in the studio. That thought only made him grind his mouth down harder on hers. She responded, her tongue seeking his, her body flush against him.

  Her fiery response surprised him. He deepened the kiss, moving closer, wanting to crawl inside her, into that sweet haven of her body…

  “Hey, look!”

  People started to shout. Excitement filled the air.

  Sloan tore her mouth from his. He followed the direction of her wide, startled gaze.

  The couple that had stripped down to their underwear earlier now stood in the middle of his studio buck-naked.

  He tipped his head back and laughed, pulling Sloan closer.

  “You two just got yourself four Dallen O’Neal originals,” he told the nude couple.

  “Well done,” Sloan told him. “I’m going to enjoy promoting someone who understands the concept.”

  It appeared she wanted to say more. A flush crept up her neck then she moved aside, tucking some of her long blonde hair behind one ear.

  He watched her walk away. Soon he lost her in the crowd, but her words stayed in his mind.

  Well done…

  His chest swelled with pride.

  Damn, it still mattered.

  He still cared what she thought, and not just about his work.

  He wondered how long he could go on lying to himself…

  What mattered more was what she thought about him.

  Chapter Three

  An hour later, the crowd of people in Dallen’s studio had dispersed.

  Griffin shook his hand. “You’ve made a wise decision. Having Sloan promote you will get you a gallery showing in no time.” Griffin glanced her way. “Any thoughts on that? Where do you think he’ll have his debut?”

  “The Tremayne Gallery uptown. He needs exposure there, as well as here in Chelsea and SoHo. Lisa will love Dallen’s work, I’m positive.”

  “Lisa Tremayne has a great eye for erotic art. You’re right, Sloan. A good choice.”

  Dallen snapped his dark brows together. “Lisa Tremayne will lump me together with everyone else. I’ll—”

  “Never.” Sloan s
lashed a hand through the air. “She will give you your own showing.” Lowering her voice, she stated, “I do right by my clients. Always.”

  “You’ll let me know when that is, won’t you, Sloan?” Griffin shrugged into his jacket. “I want to be a part it.”

  “Of course. You’ll be the first to know.”

  “Maybe you’ll let me know, first?” Dallen raised a brow. “After all, it is my work we’re talking about here.”

  Why does he have to be so damn difficult?

  Griffin chuckled. “Sloan will take good care of you. Don’t you worry about it.”

  Dallen glanced at Sloan. His hot look could have melted chocolate.

  “Of course I’ll take care of him.”

  Dallen’s hand found her backside. He gave it a squeeze.

  She wanted to hurl a piece of white-hot marble at Dallen’s arrogant head. She wanted him to keep touching her.

  She wanted him to do more.

  Much more.

  Oh, if only Griffin would go already…

  “I’ll leave you two to work out the details. Call me, Sloan.”

  “I will.”

  She watched Griffin walk out.

  Dallen’s look was pure innocence but he didn’t remove his hand. He lifted her skirt, sliding his fingers between the cleft of her bottom cheeks.

  “Was that necessary?” She tried to sound angry, her effort thwarted by a delicious, bone-melting feeling of bliss. She ground her backside against his hand.

  He grinned. “Touching your beautiful ass? Yes.”

  She laughed, she couldn’t help it. His outrageousness called to something deep inside her, appealing to her untamed, wilder side.

  “I meant, was it necessary to make that comment about lumping you in with everyone else?” She scowled at him, his difficult nature fueling her anger…and her lust. Her nipples peaked beneath her silk blouse. She suddenly felt confined.

  She longed to remove her blouse and bra and toss them aside, revealing what his stubborn nature did to her body. She wanted his hands on her naked breasts so he could feel the effect of his obstinacy. A pleasing zing of erotic pleasure snaked across her chest, settling in her nipples. She felt them swell against the silky confines of her bra.