Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance)

by Jackson, K. M.

  She had to get out of the apartment tonight. Looking up and seeing that image that was so clearly influenced by him had unnerved her — and what was worse was the realization that her work was better for it. Better than anything she had painted in a long time. Suddenly it wasn’t still — it had life.

  How was it that this man she didn’t know and didn’t care to know had gotten so deep into her psyche? Sam took him in as something prickled at her. Something that had been prickling ever since she first saw him all those months ago. She was pulled to him like some annoying far off memory and it bugged the hell out of her. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples.

  Faintly, she heard the girls chattering. “He is crazy hot, I wonder what he does?” Gabby was saying.

  Samara responded with a shrug.

  “Did you see how he handled that creep? I was just on my way over when he swooped in like wham!” Kara said.

  Sam shrugged her response to that too, but then Gabby put her hand over hers, forcing her attention. “Hey, are you okay?”

  Sam looked back toward the bar, instinctively seeking him out, but the space where he had been was now filled by a group of young women all in LBDs and FM pumps. He was gone.

  She turned to Gabby. “Yeah, I’m fine. You all about ready to call it a night? I’m beat.”

  • • •

  The summer night had turned cool and Samara now regretted for a second time the mini and backless top she was wearing as she stepped out of the club and a breeze ran across her bare spine.

  “Are you going to be okay getting home?” Lauren asked her.

  “I’m fine. You and Kara take this first cab since you guys have the furthest to go, heading to Brooklyn. Thanks for coming out.” She hugged Lauren and Kara and watched as they went off together.

  “Okay, you next,” Gabby said.

  “No, hon, you. I’m not that far, you have to go all the way uptown. Unless you want to stay with me tonight?”

  Her friend shook her head. “No thanks, work tomorrow. I can’t believe I stayed out as late as I did and talking to that loser no less. It took me way too much time to notice the imprint on his finger from where he had removed his wedding ring. I am seriously slipping. Talk about a wasted night.” She let out a long sigh and Samara gave her a sympathetic look, then a playful nudge.

  Sam went to the street and put a long leg out, quickly hailing her friend a cab. “Okay then, in you go.”

  Gabby raised a brow. “You are such a showoff, but at least you’re useful with those damned long assed legs.”

  “Oh, shut up and get in. As if yours are not plenty long. And don’t get me started on that ass of yours. If I only had half, I’d be golden.”

  “Please take it!” Gabby said playfully, giving her hip a slap.

  Sam leaned in, giving Gabby a squeeze. “Text me when you get home.”

  Samara had just raised a hand to hail a cab for herself when out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar figure. It was the asshole from the bar — his hand was now wrapped and he was turning the corner toward the alley with another nefarious looking dude. They didn’t notice her, but seemed to be men on some sort of mission. Suddenly another chill went up Sam’s spine and it wasn’t from the temperature.

  Just go home, Sam. Just go home.

  Sam reached for the car handle and paused as the image of Mark doubled over from her punch came to her mind. “You coming, lady?” the driver asked.

  Sam looked back toward the alley, then over to the impatient eyes of the driver. “No, go on.” She leaned back up, stepping away from the cab. Then she headed toward the alley on tentative feet, now cursing her own impulsive instincts and her killer heels. But once there, the heels were quickly forgotten as her instincts kicked in again and she let out a primal scream.

  Thorn quickly turned, only momentarily surprised, and just in time blocked a blow from the asshole that was coming up behind him with some sort of metal pipe. He ducked down and punched him in the stomach, quickly doubling him over while simultaneously spinning out toward the other guy and knocking him out with a roundhouse kick. They both tried to come back at him, but Mark’s fists were too fast and with two punches here and an upper cut there they were both out just as the back door opened and two of the club’s bouncers came rushing into the alley.

  “Damn, Thorn. What the hell?” one of the black shirted bouncers said, looking down at the two guys laid out on the dirty concrete.

  Thorn shrugged in that way Samara was now becoming used to. “Hey, it wasn’t me. You guys need to be more discerning about who you let into this place.”

  Samara watched as Mark Thorn coolly walked away and got on his bike at the back of the alley. He started it up and slowly rode around the bodies on the ground, headlights shining, coming to a stop in front of her. “Well, Miss Leighton, it would seem you were correct. Looks like you didn’t need saving after all. Now can I offer you a ride home as a thank you for the warning?”

  She was stunned. You’d think he was talking about offering her a ride in his carriage around Hyde Park on a sunny spring day and not out of an alley off Eleventh Avenue after just beating up a couple of thugs.

  He stared at her and cocked his head slightly. “You going to make me wait all night to let me know? Because, though I will wait, I’m a little tired and I’d rather leave those two for the professionals to deal with.”

  Sam looked down at the two men then back up at Mark. His face gave nothing away. But something in her stomach twisted. “I don’t ride on motorcycles. They’re dangerous and I’ve already told you, you’re reckless.”

  His eyes stayed cool, his face a study in patience. “And I thought we already cleared that up earlier.” He gave her a swift up and down. “Though on second thought, I’m thinking you should just let me put you in a cab. It’s not like you’re dressed for riding.”

  “No, I’m not.” But Sam knew her wardrobe wasn’t what was really stopping her. It was that familiar frizzle of fear that was creeping up her spine. The one that was more than anxiety. The one that took her back to a past that she wished with all her heart she could forget, but knew she’d carry with her for the rest of her life.

  She frowned and bit at her bottom lip, then she caught herself and stopped. It made her feel like a child and she didn’t want to feel that way in front of him. Sam turned away, first looking right toward the action of the street and the avenue then back down toward the alley and the two men who were now moaning on the ground. She gazed at the darkness and the dumpster then back at Thorn and his bike humming dangerously between his thighs.

  The fear gripped at her tighter as images of her ex, Julian, came at her. All she could see were flashbulbs, pop, pop, pop. All the while his mouth, that pretty mouth with that deceitful tongue, spouting ever flowing lies about how much he loved her, would always care for her, that she’d always be safe with him. In the end, the snake just wanted to cash in on her name. Get what he could from screwing a Leighton.

  Mark revved the engine and Sam startled a bit as her brother Charles came to her mind. Her impetuous brother, gone way too soon. Her dragon slayer. Knight in shining armor. But now she was here, all alone, the snake still twisting that fear, always tightening, cutting off her breathing, readying her for the kill. She looked into Mark’s dark eyes and something stirred; anger bubbled, churning in her belly and bubbling up to her chest, heating her throughout her entire body. Suddenly, all she wanted was to bite that damned snake’s head off and spit it to the ground.

  The next thing she knew, it was as if her hand had moved on its own as she reached out and ran it across Mark Thorn’s bicep. Though his expression didn’t change, she felt his muscle twitch.

  Her breath caught. “You really know how to muddy up a girl’s well planned night, Mr. Thorn.”

  He cocked that damned brow, looking both b
emused and — she couldn’t believe it after that fight but she would swear — slightly bored. She may have detected a small yawn as he looked back at the men sprawled on the ground. “If this is your way of planning, Miss Leighton, then it needs a little help.”

  Now, all she wanted more than anything was to wipe that cool, who-the-hell-did-he-think-he-was look off his face. Make him eat it. Swallow it whole. Bike or no bike. Her gaze flipped back from him to the big hunk of metal between his legs and then back up to him again.

  He grinned.

  Sam narrowed her eyes. “You know, you may be right. Planning is overrated.” With that, and all the breath and all the courage she could muster, Sam stilled her spine, planted her legs wide, licked her lips, and leaned in.

  Mark’s lips were warm despite the coolness of the night air and when she leaned in toward his body it was just as rock hard as she’d felt on the dance floor moments ago and more than she’d imagined it so many times in her fantasies. Her hand went up instinctively to his chest and her eyes closed as she breathed him in, running her tongue across his full lips. He opened his mouth slightly, wrapped a strong arm around her waist, and pulled her in tighter, turning the kiss around, taking the bit of power she thought she had, and in a smooth motion stroked his tongue over hers. Making her melt. It was like he was suddenly inside every part of her body all at once as her nipples tightened and a jolt of passion zinged her right in her core. It was enough to make her clinch down and let out a moan. She felt him smile against her mouth.

  Oh damn. So much for getting rid of that smug look.

  Sam reached up and ran her hand over his smooth head, down the back of his corded neck, then across his wide shoulders. God, he was so different than the usual guys she’d been with. Just all natural male muscle. This man could undo her and she knew it. With that thought she pulled back and looked into his eyes.

  What she got back was darkness with the lurking promise of endless possibility. “So you going to take this ride or am I putting you in a cab?” He looked back down the alley to the stirring thugs. “But please, make the decision quick because honestly, I’ve had my fill of the rough stuff for one night.”

  The pull she got in her most private of places at his mention of rough stuff and all he made it imply had her mustering all the power of her Leighton cool. Sam glanced down then swept her gaze back up to him. “Hey, if you can handle a little extra weight, then I can surely take the ride.”

  Chapter 5

  Freaking holy jam on toast! What was she thinking?

  Though not fully regretting her decision to get on the bike, Samara was definitely questioning her decision — yet again, after the handsy asshole — to wear a short denim mini to the club, now that she was feeling every bit of the cool night breeze whizzing up her skirt.

  But how was she to know that the night would end with her bare-legged and thighs splayed wide open while preparing to go hurtling through the streets of New York. She let her mind pause on that a moment. No, it wasn’t all that unfathomable after all. She’d been in worse situations, and at least where her body connected with Mark Thorn’s she was relatively warm.

  It was then that the warm bodied Mr. Thorn revved the engine and her whole body vibrated. Samara instinctively tightened her knees to his outer thighs and wrapped her hands around his waist. The bike lurched forward and down Eleventh Avenue. She burrowed her helmeted head into his shoulder, getting a whiff of his clean soapy scent mingled with a little sweat from his earlier exertions. Not that it was easy for her to do through the clunky helmet, but she somehow managed. Besides, it was easier on her nerves to focus on him and not the traffic that was getting perilously close to them on both sides. Breathe, girl. And relax.

  Thorn swerved and Sam squealed, instantly hating herself for the squeal, but crap, it was scary. Her stomach clinched and she tightened her hold on his waist, turning inward. She felt his muscles tense at the same time that his mellow voice floated back to her over the force of the wind. “Sorry about that. Big pothole and I didn’t want to really jostle you.”

  The words “gee thanks” ran through her head, but she was too busy holding on for dear life to get them out of her mouth. She willed her stomach to settle down and forced memories from the past to the back of her mind. Despite them and herself, something about this guy made her feel like she’d make it through this ride just fine.

  They stopped at a light and Sam’s body lurched forward into his. Nice. So what was the etiquette for that? Sam attempted to shimmy back, but one movement had the bike shaking and his left hand leaving the handlebars to steady her. “Don’t worry, you’re cool. Just be still.”

  She swallowed, trying hard to ignore the instant shiver that ran through her body from his warm hand on her leg. “Sure. Just get me home in one piece, okay?” She fought to keep her voice steady, but hoped that the wavering could be owned up to the bike, the wind, her teeth chattering, whatever.

  “You just hold on. You have nothing to worry about when you’re with me.”

  His words brought her up short and she leaned back, almost losing her balance. She gave him another stare, glimpsing what she could — his strong arms and shoulders, corded neck, and a bit of his profile from around his upturned helmet. Who was he to say something so bold? As if anyone could ever keep such a promise.

  She felt it happening and, try as she might, she couldn’t stop her spine from going all steely. Rod tight, even when Thorn shifted and his thumb brushed lightly over the hands she had wrapped tightly at his waist.

  “Hey, you’d better lean into me. I’m about to open it up.”

  Did he feel her stiffen? Was that the reason for the soft brush? Sam hoped not. She didn’t need his kindness or, worse, his pity. He could keep them both, but just then he revved and the biked jerked, forcing her to push back and then forward into his body with a satisfying thump.

  “Hey, go easy.”

  “Oh, Miss Leighton, I can guarantee you, I always do.”

  She didn’t bother to hold back her snort and felt his chest shake with a small quiver of laughter that rumbled through his back as he once again went full throttle out into the cool New York night.

  Despite it all, Samara smiled to herself and leaned in. This guy was too much. She peeked over Mark’s shoulder as the speedometer on the bike went from thirty-five to forty to — Shit. Better to not look at the speedometer and focus on the sights around her. She fought to tamp down on her fear as the unfiltered city whizzed by. Dark and mysterious and still full of life, she loved it — even if at times it didn’t love her back.

  She had to admit that right now she felt more a part of it than she had in a long time, with the wind whipping around her sides and back and Mark insulating her front as they speared down the West Side Highway. Sam turned right, admiring the Hudson and the view of New Jersey. It was as if it was watching its always partying cousin and shaking a reproachful head, saying, “Time to get some rest. This youth won’t last forever.”

  Sam slowly turned back to her left and looked at the old prewar warehouses now turned luxury condos mixed with the new skyscrapers, already filled with new tenants just itching for a piece of that Big Apple dream. So many lights still on, twinkling back at their New Jersey counterparts as if to say, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” The thought gave her an immediate lump in her throat and she turned away swallowing it down.

  What did any of them know? What did she know? One day you were there, the world at your feet, and the next, nothing. It’s like you never existed. Better to not dream or bank on tomorrow. She stilled her mind. Where did that come from? She had been doing so good and now this. This, she couldn’t have. Not these dark thoughts. Anything but these. Sam let out a long breath, leaned in and nudged Mark with her shoulder. “Hey, I’ve seen you go a lot faster than this just leaving the building. What, are you a chicken?”

  “What?”
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  “Come on, I want to ride! Stop treating me like some delicate flower.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Miss Leighton. It’s been a long night and I think I’d better take you home.”

  Samara let out a sigh as he slowed down and hung a left off Clarkson. Damn, they were almost home.

  “You’re disappointing me, Mr. Thorn.”

  He leaned back toward her, speaking over his shoulder. “Now that disappoints me,” he said, his voice a low purr.

  Smoothly, Thorn navigated the twist and turns of the streets while Samara tried her best to hold on and ignore the powerful extra friction the cobbled streets of lower Manhattan gave her. At a stop sign, a dark, oversized SUV pulled up beside them just before they were about to turn left and the driver, dark haired, light eyed, and thick necked, gave Samara the once over and back, clearly hung up on her legs. Sam could feel the change in Thorn as he went from Mr. Easy Rider to Man of Steel in about a nanosecond. She nudged him. “Hey, it’s cool, killer. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

  Mark chuckled and seemed to relax, but still, he didn’t turn until the Rover pulled off and turned right, going the opposite way from them. Pulling into the building’s side garage, they headed smoothly past the attendant on duty. Samara blinked as her eyes adjusted to the overhead fluorescent lights. She tightened her hold with her hands and thighs, not knowing what else to do as Thorn eased the bike into a back corner spot next to a late model black Mustang.

  He cut the engine and took off his helmet, turning toward her. “So.”

  “So.”

  He just stared.

  “I could use a little help taking this off,” she said, gesturing to her helmet.

  There was that smile, and once again something in the back of her mind nudged at her. How was it that someone who seemed so tough could smile so easily? He went to ease off the bike, but her legs were still tight around him and she had to reluctantly loosen her hold. There she was, suddenly open and way too exposed. She pushed down on her skirt as he reached out and took her hand gently in his. Her legs were shaky and loose like overcooked spaghetti and she had to fight not to reach out and grab his shoulders. In the end the shoulders won. She couldn’t stand on her own, and his arm snaked around her waist, steadying her.