The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Why?” she whispered.

  She knew why. She wanted to hear him say it.

  The funny thing was, he wanted to admit to it – to this weakness.

  “I can’t fucking stand the thought of someone else touching you… being with you. And I’m pissed because I’ve never felt that before and I shouldn’t be fucking feeling it now, especially for you. But I do. And that’s why I almost ripped Tony’s goddamn head off,” he growled.

  Her breath caught and the hand holding the sheet relaxed slightly, letting another inch or so of her chest be revealed to him in the shadows of the room.

  “What do you want, Pierce?”

  “The same thing that you do,” he rasped, taking one last step towards the bed, stopping about a foot away from the side of it. Even at that distance, he felt the nausea begin to roll through him as his scar began to burn. But it was a dull reminder compared the searing ache with which he wanted her.

  “And what is that?” she returned, her hazel eyes now glistening gold. Her lids were heaving and Pierce suppressed a groan as she dropped the sheet into her lap, revealing the outline of her flannel pajamas.

  “One kiss.” Only they both knew it was so much more than that.

  He didn’t move though; he couldn’t go any closer to the bed unless she wanted the evening to end with pain instead of pleasure.

  “So, come get it,” she whispered.

  “I told you, Princess, I don’t do beds,” he replied harshly.

  “You don’t have to get in it. You just have to kiss me.” Her breathless words stoked his desire.

  Pierce groaned. Fuck his goddamn past.

  He closed the distance, grasping her face in his hands and crushing his lips to hers. He kissed her like a man drowning – drowning in the memories of his past and she was his only supply of oxygen.

  His tongue dove inside of her sweet warmth to be met by hers. They fought for control over the kiss and over their desires – his searching for refuge; hers searching for an escape.

  He groaned as she sucked hard on his tongue, pulling it deeper into her mouth just like she’d done with his cock the night before; his arousal throbbed with jealousy.

  Ana moaned, raising up on her knees so that their heads were level, looping her arms around his neck to pull her body flush to his.

  His hands fell from her face, sliding down and around her sides, over the flannel fabric.

  “Fuck, Princess,” he swore as his hands crossed over the edge of her shirt.

  She wasn’t wearing the pajama bottoms, only underwear.

  He sunk his fingers into her ass, pulling her hips tight against his arousal as he began to rub his erection against the soft flesh that it wanted to invade.

  “Pierce,” she moaned his name.

  His right hand released her soft flesh and went searching for more treasure, sliding back up along the front of her chest to palm her breast.

  Ana gasped against his mouth, her head falling back, giving him access to the warm expanse of her neck; his mouth dropped to suck on the tender skin as he rolled the bud of her nipple between his fingers.

  He needed to feel all of her – taste all of her.

  His hand slid further up until his fingers found the edge of the button-down flannel shirt, sliding along the collar until he reached the first button, deftly undoing it.

  “I should rip this goddamn flannel in two,” he rasped against her mouth as his fingers began to make their way to button number two; suddenly, she was gone.

  Ana jerked back out of his arms, causing him to tip forward towards the bed. His hands flew out, bracing themselves on the mattress to stop himself from falling.

  And that’s when all hell broke loose. Literally.

  Pierce let out a tortured groan as a blinding, searing, red-hot pain exploded inside of him. His vision went black as he pushed himself off of the bed, stumbling back onto the floor.

  Fuck, his scar hurt.

  “Pierce!”

  White light. Warmth. Ana.

  One minute, she’d been consumed with desire; she’d craved his touch on her body and the promise of his mouth on her sex. And then she’d felt his fingers on her bare chest just glancing over her scarred flesh. The darkness of her fear exploded inside and blinded her, eliciting her hasty retreat.

  She’d backed up on the bed, watching almost in slow motion as his body toppled forward from the loss of hers in front of it. His hands had barely landed on the bed when he looked like he’d been stabbed. She could practically see the painful tension that rippled through his muscles; his eyes that had been searching for hers, quickly shut with the excruciating memory. He’d shoved himself as far away from the bed as possible with one heave, one hand coming up over his chest as the other speared painfully through his hair.

  For the first time, the man who looked like he was always in control, who always had a plan, and who was always two steps ahead… looked broken and lost.

  And all she wanted was for him to open his eyes and find her.

  All thoughts of her scar and her own fears evaporated as she immediately climbed off the offending piece of furniture, rushing to stand in front of him.

  “Pierce, are you ok?” Her heart ached as she watched the beautiful man crumble from a memory as though he’d been physically struck.

  Her hands cupped his face, tilting it to hers. His eyes were completely black and she knew that he was barely seeing her right now. Whatever trauma he’d endured that kept him away from beds was not in the past; it was very real and very present.

  “Ana,” he groaned her name – a plea for her to save him.

  “I’m here, Pierce.” Her heart was beating out of her chest. “It’s ok.”

  She didn’t know how to help him. All she knew was that when he was touching her, he had been ok. So, she raised up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, hoping that it would be enough.

  For a second, he didn’t respond, still paralyzed in what appeared to be pain as his hand clutched over the scar on his chest. Her tongue slipped out, tracing along the seam of his lips, and he came back to her.

  Sighing against her kiss, his mouth opened and his tongue came searching for her warmth.

  Now, when his arms came around her, it wasn’t with the burning need for release that had been there before. Now it was with the need to anchor himself in the storm.

  Like a lighthouse, Ana was the only thing guiding him out of this tempest.

  He hadn’t touched a bed since the painting was stolen from him four years ago – and this was why.

  With her in his arms, every painfully overwhelming sensation began to subside, driven out by her light. He felt the way she innocently pressed her body against his, her hands cupping his face, her thumbs gently brushing over his cheeks as her kiss swallowed up his suffering.

  He breathed her in, letting her touch heal over the wound that had been opened. His body tensed when he felt her start to pull away, her lips disengaging from his.

  Hazy green eyes met his, not filled with pity, but with determination.

  A determination to help the devil. How was he going to tell her that he wasn’t worth saving?

  “What happened, Pierce?” she whispered, her hands still on his face, holding it close to hers.

  Why did she always have to push him to remember – to feel – things that were better left forgotten.

  “You were ok when we were…” She trailed off, blushing. “But, as soon as I moved back…”

  Yes – he didn’t need a reminder that he hadn’t felt any pain as long as she was in his arms; he didn’t know why she kept his debilitating fears away.

  Or maybe he just didn’t want to acknowledge why.

  “I told you… I can’t do beds,” he replied hoarsely.

  She shook her head – he’d given her that answer before. “Why can’t you? What happened to you?” Her voice had turned thick with emotion. “Let me help you,” she begged, leaning forward to press a hard kiss to his lips before s
he wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him in a tight hug against her. “Please, let me in.”

  Her whisper wafted over his ear, tearing down what little strength he had left to resist. His mind tried to pull together the words to tell a story that had never passed his lips before.

  “My scar…” He let out a harsh breath, staring off into the dimly room, seeing nothing but the memories of that night. “My mother’s supplier… came to collect one night. She couldn’t pay so he decided to punish her. I jumped out from the closet in front of her to protect her.” He could still remember the look of surprise on the man’s face when he’d realize that there had been a child hiding in the room.

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.” Young enough to do something stupid. Old enough to have what happened next stay with him for the rest of his life.

  “So, you took the knife that was meant for your mom? Oh, Pierce…” He felt her shaky inhale of breath.

  He should have left it at that; that story was more palatable.

  “Not exactly… He thought that threatening her kid would be even more effective, so he said he would kill me if she didn’t pay him what she owed.” He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. “She couldn’t – we had no money. So, she begged him – not to spare me, mind you, but to not cut her off.” He let out a harsh laugh into her hair, feeling her body shudder against his – a silent sob that she held back. He remembered the look on his mother’s face, as though she was looking right through him, her son. Her only concern was not about his safety, but where she was going to get her next fix if this man cut off her supply. “Whatever she said pissed him off, so he decided to give her a warning.”

  “Pierce…” She shuddered.

  “I wasn’t a big kid, especially since we hardly had money for food most days because she spent it all on drugs. He threw me onto the bed, held my wrists, and cut me from my neck down.”

  “And she didn’t…”

  “No.” He sucked in another breath. “I don’t even know. All I remember is the bed and the blinding pain all over my body. And then the blood.”

  He paused, waiting for his scar to respond at the verbalization of its origin, but it remained silent – stifled by Ana’s soft warmth.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  His fingers clenched a little harder into her welcoming flesh, securing himself against the last of the onslaught.

  “I think he hit something… because of the blood… and freaked out and left.” Pierce swallowed. “She looked at me, I tried to say ‘mom,’ but it didn’t come out. And then she turned and followed him. She left me lying there… she left me to die. All for some fucking drugs.”

  That wasn’t the end of his story, but it was the worst part. And it was all that he was capable of revisiting tonight. The memories overwhelmed him and all he wanted was to lose himself in her.

  She was bright and beautiful and strong and intoxicating.

  Losing himself in her was the only way he would be able to forget again.

  Pierce pulled back and crushed his lips to hers. She was the only one who was able to save him from himself and right now, he needed to claim that light for his own. He needed her to know that she was his.

  Ana moaned into his mouth. She didn’t know whether asking had helped or hurt him, but she hoped for the former. She knew what it was like to have to get over a physical trauma – and locking it up and burying the demons deep inside was not the answer. And she wouldn’t let him convince himself that it was.

  Her heart threatened to burst with the pain and sorrow that she’d felt for that poor boy – the one left to die – the one left to believe that he wasn’t worth fighting for.

  It was no wonder that he felt undeserving of even friendship from those around him when his own mother forced him to believe, in the cruelest way, that he wasn’t worth loving.

  Her arms clung tighter around him wanting to give him everything that he needed to take.

  “Ana,” he rasped, his lips suddenly breaking from hers. “I need to kiss you.”

  So then why had he stopped? Her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “I need to taste you,” he growled and she immediately realized what he meant.

  Chapter 18

  The pain of sharing his past was still etched in his black gaze.

  She needed to help him.

  “Do you trust me?” she whispered.

  He was taken aback by her question, but hoarsely replied, “Yes.”

  Her hands fell to her side so that she could move back from him. As she began to move, Ana almost gave up her idea when she saw Pierce wince, his hand immediately rising to rub over his scar.

  She grabbed his other hand, leading him with her as she backed up slowly until her legs hit the edge of the bed.

  Her gaze met the black coals of his, sparking with desire and uncertainty as he got closer the object that had just caused him so much pain.

  “What are you doing, Ana?” he rasped.

  She let his hand fall, her thumbs hooking underneath the waistband of her underwear.

  “Helping you forget… for good.” And then with a courage that she didn’t know that she had, she dropped the fabric to the floor, standing in front of him only wearing the pajama top.

  She watched his body tense with desire, waiting for what was to come.

  Lifting one leg back and then the other, she moved onto the bed until she was just about in the center. His gaze remained locked on his, jaw muscles flexing, as she sat down and then rested back on her hands; her legs bent and spread open revealing herself completely to him.

  “Fuck, Ana.” He tore his eyes away for a second, staring at what lay between him what he needed. “I can’t…”

  The bed might as well have been a minefield, the way that he feared it.

  “Pierce,” she said breathlessly before she lost her nerve. “You are the most irritatingly stubborn man I’ve ever known. The bed can’t hurt you. Come to me and let me help you make a better memory on it.”

  Their gazes locked and for a split-second insecurity overwhelmed her, wondering if he would turn and walk away from her advances like Shane had done so many times – not interested in any part of her except her mouth when it was on him.

  Heat suffused into her cheek, taking in the scene: Pierce, half-naked, fully aroused, in front of her while she relaxed back on the sheets, the most intimate part of her spread wide open before him.

  Her eyes shut.

  And then she felt his strong grip on her calves. She looked at him, watching as he hesitantly put one knee onto the mattress, testing her theory. His hands began to slide up her legs. By the time he reached her knees, both of his were on the bed and the only thing she could detect in his eyes was desire.

  His gaze raised to hers. “How do you make everything ok, Princess? How do you drive out my darkness?”

  His fingers trailed up the soft flesh of her thighs as he bent down between them, placing soft kisses along the inside, making his way to her core.

  “Your scent is intoxicating,” he whispered between his kisses. With each one, she sucked in a little breath, holding it longer and longer, anticipating his talented mouth on the very heart of her.

  He paused just over her and she thought the anticipation might suffocate her.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely just before she felt his finger trace lightly along her slit; her hips bucking off the bed in response to his torturous touch. “All fucking mine.”

  And then Pierce claimed that kiss.

  Ana bit her lip to stop the scream that raged against the seam of her lips.

  He didn’t just claim her, he devoured her. Just like he had done with her mouth, he explored every crevice of her sex, centering his attentions on the small nub that set off fireworks behind her eyes.

  Ana thought she might die from the pleasure. She’d never had anyone’s mouth on her like this before. The intimacy of his tongue sliding over her slick folds, delvin
g inside and stroking her, was beyond comprehension.

  As incredible as his fingers had felt, they had been nothing compared to the feel of his mouth over her, his tongue pushing itself inside of her and then retreating to tease her clit.

  Her hands dove through his hair, holding his head to her. His name became a chant on her lips, repeating over and over again until it didn’t even sound like a word – until it became synonymous with the pleasure reverberating through her body.

  Again, her body climbed toward a peak that she was now familiar with. His tongue flicked over her one more time and sent her flying over the edge. She tried to stop it, but she couldn’t contain her scream as her release seared through her.

  “Perfect,” he growled against her, gently licking over her swollen flesh.

  “Pierce…” she breathed his name, her mind still too blissfully blank to think of anything else to say. Her head tipped to the side, catching his barely distinguishable gaze. His white, satisfied smile though was impossible to miss. “Are you ok?”

  Ana winced. She was afraid that she’d pushed him too far, asking him to climb onto the bed for her after what had just happened, but it probably wasn’t the right time to ask.

  Surprisingly, his smile only grew even more seductive. “I don’t know, Princess. I think I need to see you come a few more times and then I’ll know for sure.”

  Heat pooled in her stomach and her face flushed even further at his words. He blew a gentle stream of air over her sex and she felt the shiver crawl over ever cell in her body.

  “Pier—” His name ended in a gasp as his mouth closed over her sensitized flesh once more. “I can’t…”

  Her words trailed off as she quickly found out that she could. Her body retracing its steps towards another orgasm.