The Jewel of His Collection

by Fae Mallory

  As Violet was digesting that, he turned his attention to her. “Of course, we’ll have to agree on a price first.”

  His words hit her like a blow. After everything they’d shared, Ian saw fit to put a price tag on the physical representation of their love. “Oh?”

  “Should I make an offer or would you prefer to set the price?” he asked, his voice light. Clearly he saw nothing wrong in offering to pay for something she considered priceless. Feeling cold, Violet moved to wrap her arms around herself, jumping when Ian caught her hands in his.

  Apparently taking her silence as an invitation to bid, he continued, “How about this? The painting in exchange for my life, my heart, and all my worldly goods?”

  Violet was so lost in her fog of unhappiness that it took her a moment to parse his offer. “What?”

  Ian smiled tenderly up at her from his position kneeling at her feet. “Marry me, Violet.”

  This was insane. They’d known each other only a matter of months. Yet, with Ian looking at her with his heart in his eyes, her answer was obvious. For years she’d done the responsible thing and been miserable. Now she was going to do what made her happy instead. “Yes! Oh, yes! Of course!” she sobbed, throwing her arms around Ian’s neck.

  She yelped as he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging tightly. “What are you doing?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a bit messy,” he informed her, heading in the direction of her bathroom. “I’m going to make passionate love to you in the shower, and then we’re going to make one of my favorite fantasies come true.”

  Violet pressed her face against his as he carried her into the bathroom and pulled her shower curtain aside, leaning down to turn on the water. “What fantasy is that?”

  “A bed,” he said unexpectedly. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

  His sweet words brought tears to Violet’s eyes. “I want that, too.”

  Ian stepped into the shower, making Violet gasp as hot water streamed over their entwined bodies. Looking down, she saw rivulets of paint coursing off of them, swirling into abstract patterns on the bottom of the bathtub before running down the drain, and her fingers ached to recreate the vision on canvas.

  “And I’ve already lost your attention,” Ian said ruefully.

  “Look how beautiful it is,” Violet murmured.

  He hefted her a little higher in his arms, pressing her against the wall of the shower as he reached down to position himself, pushing into her with a gentle thrust. “Very beautiful,” he agreed, looking down at the place where their bodies joined.

  Violet followed his gaze. Although she’d painted her share of nudes during her classes, the male body had never been particularly aesthetically pleasing to her. Ian’s body, however, was a work of art itself, and the sight of his hard cock disappearing within her took her breath away.

  It also reminded her of something she’d been shoving to the back of her mind for the past week and a half. “Ian, I’m not on birth control.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I already proposed,” he said lightly, but she could see the skin around his eyes grow tight as he forced himself to remain still. Under her heels, she could feel the muscles in his back bunching with effort, and she realized how hard it had to be for him to keep himself from thrusting. “Should I stop?”

  Considering everything they’d already done, stopping now was the equivalent of locking the barn door after the horse had already escaped, chartered a plane to Tahiti, and met a pretty little island mare. If she was pregnant, she was pregnant. “Don’t stop.”

  “I want to get you pregnant,” Ian growled as he resumed thrusting, his strokes picking up speed and intensity. “I want everyone to see you with my baby in you. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

  His possessiveness sent a thrill through her. Motherhood hadn’t been at the top of Violet’s list of priorities, but as Ian pounded into her, the thought of becoming pregnant suddenly held no terror. By carrying Ian’s baby, she’d have a part of him with her at all times, and she could imagine nothing more wonderful than that.

  Her second climax was less intense but longer, the pleasure lapping over her in slow waves that made her feel shivery and full. As Ian spilled himself within her, she found herself hoping that his seed would fall on fertile ground. They could decorate the nursery with Madden paintings.

  Her knees buckled when he lowered her to stand on her own two feet, and Ian wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up as he washed her with loving hands, sending the rest of the paint clinging to her swirling down the drain. Once her legs felt like they’d hold her, she reversed their positions, Ian groaning with unadulterated pleasure as she ran her hands over him.

  Once they were both clean, she stepped out of the shower, shivering in the cool air until he wrapped a fluffy towel around her, a sweetly domestic gesture that was somehow more intimate than anything they’d done up until this point. They knew how to be partners in business and they knew how to be lovers, but this was their first step toward learning how to be a couple.

  “You don’t have to go back to New York, do you?” she asked as he toweled her dry.

  At his puzzled look, she explained, “Every time we have sex, you have a work crisis.”

  He chuckled at her summation of their relationship. “One of my vice presidents was embezzling money. As of three hours ago, he’s sitting in a jail cell. So, I should be at your disposal for the foreseeable future.”

  Violet’s cheeks heated as she realized that Ian had been telling her the absolute truth about why he hadn’t called her after their first encounter. He’d been dealing with a serious problem, and she’d been a complete shrew, complaining that he wasn’t paying enough attention to her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more supportive.”

  Ian kissed the top of her head. “Show me where your bed is, and we’ll call it even.”

  As Violet led him to her bedroom, a small space cluttered with detritus from the museum and a handful of stuffed animals she hadn’t been able to part with even after she grew up, she reflected on what he’d revealed. “That’s why you didn’t return my call today.”

  In comparison to Ian’s beautifully appointed home, her bedroom looked like it belonged to a packrat teenager, but he didn’t bat an eye as he crawled under her bright quilt with a groan of relief and held his arms out to her. “I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. From now on, Xavier knows to always put you through.”

  “I don’t blame him after how I acted about Geminids,” she said ruefully as she curled against him. Thinking of the painting reminded her that she’d never made a decision about where to hang it. “Did you want me to hang it in the museum?”

  Ian yawned and tugged her closer, draping his leg over both of hers. “It’s yours, sweetheart. Hang it wherever you want.”

  Pressing a kiss against the closest patch of his skin, Violet murmured, “I was thinking it might look nice hanging over our bed.”

  For an instant, Ian froze, and then he rolled her onto her back, pressing eager kisses against her throat as she carded her fingers through his hair. “That sounds perfect,” he said hoarsely. “How soon can you move in?”

  “And leave all this?” Violet said with mock shock, gesturing to encompass her cramped apartment.

  “I’ll build you a studio with all the paints you could ever want,” Ian vowed, nudging her legs apart as he settled between them, letting her feel his rapidly hardening cock.

  “Again?” Violet squeaked even as her body flooded with heat.

  “I warned you. I’m addicted to you. Are you complaining?” He traced the curve of her hip with his fingertips, the pressure just firm enough to keep from being ticklish.

  “Not at all,” she said so fervently that he chuckled.

  “Prove it. Move in with me tomorrow,” he challenged, reaching around to squeeze her bottom.

  “I do want a studio.” She sighed dramatically, pretending to give the matter
serious consideration and wriggling when he pinched her in punishment for her teasing. “All right! I’ll move in tomorrow.”

  “Good answer.” Ian brushed his lips against hers and then set to work kissing his way down her body, proving just how happy he was at the thought of living with her. Violet subsided against the pillows with a contented moan and brushed a fallen lock of hair away from his beloved face. Moving in with Ian so soon was a risk, but this time it held no fear. Taking risks was what Violet did best.

  Epilogue

  “Here?” Ian asked, moving the painting slightly to the left when his companion gestured for him to do so.

  It took another five minutes of almost imperceptible adjustments before she was satisfied with the painting’s placement, but her joyful smile when he hung it in exactly the right spot was all the reward that he needed for his efforts.

  “Thank you, Daddy!” His daughter, Iris, clapped her small hands as he added her latest painting to the playroom’s gallery wall and held her arms up for a hug that Ian was delighted to bestow, not caring that he was wrinkling his tuxedo as he leaned down to scoop her up. At only five years old, Iris was already demonstrating a gift for painting that marked her as Violet’s daughter as clearly as her bright blue eyes. Since Ian was fairly certain she’d been conceived in the museum, it was only appropriate. Hopefully she never asked why he always grinned when they visited the Madden exhibit, the paintings, save for Geminids, now on permanent loan. The exhibit was a wordless tribute to one of the best afternoons of his life—the afternoon that had led directly to both his marriage and his daughter.

  “Can I go to the show?” she wheedled, even though she was already in her floral pajamas. He and Violet had explained a dozen times that the exhibit’s premiere was an adults-only event, but she’d inherited her father’s stubbornness along with his dark hair, and Iris wanted to go to the party.

  “You can see Mommy’s paintings tomorrow,” Ian promised, tickling her protruding lower lip until she giggled, forgetting her pique at being left at home.

  “I hear someone!” Violet sang as she opened the door. Iris immediately squirmed to be put down so she could race to her mother, and Ian placed her gently on her feet, taking the opportunity to simply admire his girls as Violet picked Iris up and waltzed her around the room.

  Since their wedding five years ago, he’d made good on his promise to destroy every one of Violet’s hideous gray tent dresses with his wife’s enthusiastic approval. Although he occasionally persuaded her to wear the tailored suit she’d worn when she first stripped for him, Violet now favored body-hugging dresses in jewel tones that accentuated curves that had grown even more lush in the aftermath of her unplanned, but very welcome, pregnancy. Every inch of her was softly rounded and delectable, but the most attractive thing of all was her newfound confidence. No longer did Violet seek to hide herself away from the world. Now she met it with her head held high.

  Tonight she was wearing a plum silk gown with a plunging neckline that made his mouth go dry, and if the premiere hadn’t been so important, he would be tempted to give the event a miss in favor of dragging her straight back to their bedroom to strip it off of her again as Geminids looked on from its position above their bed. After five years, he was still every bit as addicted to her as he’d been the first month, and the six weeks it had taken for her to recover from Iris’s birth had been the longest of his life.

  However, tonight was exceptionally important, so he pushed down his baser impulses as he waited for her to finish admiring Iris’s latest painting before offering her his arm. “Ready, sweetheart?”

  After kissing their daughter good-bye and cautioning her to be good for Xavier, they made their way downstairs, Violet practically vibrating with nerves. “What if everyone hates everything?”

  “Then they’re fools.” Even though Violet had handed over the day-to-day operation of the museum to her assistant curator, an ambitious art school graduate named Victoria, she still designed each new exhibit herself, and this one was particularly special. Tonight was the grand opening of the museum’s brand-new wing, an addition financed primarily by Ian himself with one condition—his wife’s paintings had to be the first thing displayed in the space.

  Although Violet accused him of being biased, Ian recognized talent when he saw it, and his wife had it in spades. Although the portrait she’d painted of him was too intimate to be part of the exhibit, she’d produced dozens of other paintings in the years they’d been married, and as far as he was concerned, each one was better than the last. Violet had kept her gift under wraps for long enough. Now it was time to share her genius with the world.

  “Aren’t you worried at all?” she demanded. His reputation in the art community was on the line tonight, but he was so convinced that everyone would immediately see Violet’s genius that his only worry was how to pry his wife away from her crowd of new admirers.

  Ian pressed his nose against her upswept curls. “Yes, I’m worried that the attention will go to your head, and you’ll lose interest in your boring old husband.”

  He stifled a chuckle when Violet turned to glare at him. “Now, you’re being ridiculous.”

  Leaning down, he swiped his tongue over her lips and gave her bottom lip a gentle nibble. “Look who’s talking. They’re going to love you.”

  She melted against him with a moan, and it was all he could do to pull away. If he kept kissing her, they’d miss the premiere, and this was Violet’s night to shine. With his thumb he wiped a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. “Some repairs might be in order.”

  “You’re impossible,” she huffed, her fond smile belying her irritated words. As she reached into her purse for her lipstick, Ian amused himself with looking around the foyer. They’d added a number of new pieces in recent years, but his favorite hung directly opposite the front door where it was certain to be the first thing any visitor to the house saw.

  He would never be an artist, but even if this particular piece was the only thing he ever created, Ian would consider his art career a complete success. As his wife reapplied her lipstick, he stepped closer to the large canvas, smiling as he knelt down to read the plaque mounted on the frame—New Beginnings/ Acrylic/ Violet Fabre and Ian Carlisle.

  His wife came up behind him and hooked her chin over his shoulder, her hands splaying over his stomach. “Out of all my work, this is still my favorite piece.”

  “It was certainly the most fun to paint,” he agreed, rising so he could embrace her, the memory of that wild, paint-smeared encounter in her old apartment making him smile. “Maybe we should think about producing a few companion pieces.”

  Violet gave him an impish look. “Should that be the theme of my next exhibit?”

  The thought of setting the art world loose in a gallery containing only canvases that he and Violet had made love on made Ian snicker. “Absolutely. We’ll call it Slip and Slide and offer classes to anyone who wants to learn the technique.”

  When Violet broke into helpless laughter, he decided he’d succeeded in distracting her from her worry about the upcoming premiere. Draping his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the car. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s show everyone what you’ve got.”

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Fae Mallory has been a costume designer and a teacher. Now she’s enjoying pursuing her dream of writing. She lives in Pennsylvania with two spoiled cats.

  For all titles by Fae Mallory, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/fae-mallory

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

 

 

 
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