by Anthology
Normally she looked forward to stepping into her home office and working on something that was hers to create, but she had done nothing but the basics since seeing—and fucking—Xander.
Now, as she was staring at the computer, his face was on the screen with a picture of his loft in the background. Scanning the article again, she read that Xander had studio hours on Sundays from one until four. Maybe if she visited toward the end of that time, it would be long enough to explain to him why she had apologized at the club and to make a quick getaway. Then she could be done with him. He’d be out of her system once and for all, which was of course what she wanted…right?
The next Sunday, Mia kept wondering about the truth as she drove to Lowell from her apartment in Boston. For some reason she had been thinking of Xander for months, before she had even seen him again, and not only because she was lonely and sexually frustrated. It was because she knew she had lost something special from her life when she’d left him three years ago. She had never been as happy or close to anyone before and since. Mia regretted what she’d said on that last day. Today she hoped she would be able to fix that.
Lowell was easy to get to but hard to navigate and by the time she was buzzed into his building, it was a quarter to four. She signed the guest book at the table staffed by one of the other artists from the building. When the elevator opened directly into his loft, another couple was waiting to leave. They nodded to each other in passing.
“You’re in for a real treat, dear,” the woman said. “His work is fantastic.”
“Thank you. I’m sure it is,” Mia answered.
She stepped into the loft, the thick heels of her boots echoing with every step. The space was open and light, with exposed beams and poles throughout. Some of the poles had been used to determine where divisions between rooms would go. “Hello?” she called.
“Back here,” said a familiar voice. “By the windows. You’re kinda late. Studio hours are almost over but you’re welcome to stay for a little while.”
“Thanks,” she said, now standing a few feet behind him. He turned quickly, almost knocking over the can of brushes next to him.
“Mia,” he said coldly.
“Hello again, Xander.” The bright light coming in from the wall of windows should have been harsh and made him look less sexy. It didn’t. He was working and his passion for his art shone in his eyes and was evident in every line of his body. He was wearing jeans, an old t-shirt and was barefoot. Something about that was very provocative, that trace of bare skin that should have been covered. She fisted her hand in the pocket of her dress slacks to hold back the desire to reach out and touch him. “This is quite a place you have here.”
“It suits me.”
“It’s a huge improvement over your old studio apartment.”
“Yes, well, any place where the kitchen and the bathroom are more than two feet apart and I don’t have to deflate my bed for the day in order to work is an improvement. How did you find me?”
“Online. The article on the new Lowell artists.”
“Of course. You always were resourceful. Resourceful, hardworking and focused. That’s what you pride yourself on, isn’t it?”
“It was.” He didn’t seem to notice her use of the past tense.
“Looking to buy something for your office wall?”
“I always loved your work.” She nodded to the oversized canvas on the easel. “That’s beautiful. Stormy.”
“It’s part of a series I’m doing on the elements.”
She stepped closer to the painting, taking in the vibrant details. “This one looks like fire.”
“It is.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I can’t do small talk with you, Mia. Why are you here? I’m certain you weren’t accidentally in the neighborhood or didn’t have a sudden need to see my latest painting. Did you come to gloat?”
“Gloat? Why would I do that?”
“First I’m a messenger boy, now I’m a stripper. I haven’t amounted to much, just as you predicted.”
“You’re painting, creating. I assume working at the club is a way to make ends meet in the meantime, right?”
“You always were a smart one.”
She chose to ignore his sarcasm. “It’s clear looking around here that you are doing well and doing what you love.”
“Yes, but it’s been three years and I’m still not a success as you would define it, so you can sleep soundly knowing you made the right decision in leaving me.”
“To be honest, I haven’t slept well since seeing you at the club.”
Xander put down the brush he was holding and wiped his hands with a cloth. “Well, that kind of honesty I don’t mind hearing…and certainly wasn’t expecting.”
“You deserve that from me.”
“I got a lot from you last week.”
Mia blushed to the roots of her hair. “We did get carried away.”
“Well, I always was good for a fuck, wasn’t I?” She flinched but didn’t answer. In addition to the other things she’d said when she’d left, she had claimed that the relationship for her had been all about the sex. It had been a way to push him away. “When you left the dressing room you said you were sorry. What was that about? Sorry for what we had done?” he asked.
“No, I was sorry for the past. For the way I ended things between us. I wasn’t kind.”
“You were a cold bitch who wouldn’t give me a chance either to ask questions about why you were leaving me or to change your mind.”
No arguing with that. She had been cold, felt that she needed to be. “I didn’t want my mind changed.”
“That was clear. You made the decision and I had to live with it.”
“I had to live with it too,” Mia said, taking a step toward him. “It hurt then and it hurts now. I was…” Scared of getting too close, her mind completed the words she couldn’t say.
“So convinced we didn’t suit each other.”
Better he thinks that, she thought. “I know. You were different from everyone I spent my days with.”
“Was that a bad thing?”
“I thought it might be. It made me uncomfortable and I couldn’t afford to be distracted from work then.”
“Yes, your precious career. More important than anything—or anyone—else.”
“I couldn’t see a way to make you fit into my life.”
“Because you couldn’t accept who I was, who I am.”
“Because I couldn’t think clearly when we were together.”
“So you made sure you stayed in control and ended it.”
“Is that what you want by way of an apology from me? You want me to give you control?” The words were out before she had a chance to fully appreciate their meaning. She knew she was in trouble the moment she saw the grin start on his face. When he stepped forward, she stepped back. He looked predatory.
“It would be a good start.”
Chapter Three
“It has possibilities, you know,” he said. Xander closed the distance between them until he was directly in front of her. He took a deep breath, giving himself time to consider her unintentional offer. Her scent, familiar and intoxicating, filled his senses. He was torn between kissing her and throwing her out on her tailored ass. What made the decision for him was the thought of having her in his control. It was intriguing, exciting—and making him hard.
When she’d announced the end of their relationship three years ago, suggesting it had been about sex and nothing else, he had been devastated, although he’d refused to show it at the time. He had offered her his love, maybe not in words but certainly in actions. She had walked away from it and made it look easy. He, on the other hand, had hardly been able to breathe from the surprise and pain of the loss. Now she was offering him the opportunity to get even. How delicious…
He had been distracted by thoughts of her for the last week and it was beginning to impact his work. He had a gallery opening to get ready for in a few months and images of
her as he fucked her had kept him from making progress. Having her here at his beck and call might get her out of his thoughts and provide some new inspiration. It could be a perfect chance to build an inventory for his show while he could treat her the same way he had been treated—giving him the advantage on both accounts.
He could see her now, posing for him, spread out in various stages of undress, calm and yet vibrant, her energy transferred onto the canvas. He would start with her fully dressed in those appallingly drab clothes she was wearing and then allow her to be slowly revealed. His fingers itched to grab her, a canvas and a brush—in that order.
“Yes, definite possibilities,” he repeated.
“What does?” she asked. He liked seeing the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Buttoned-up Mia Belmont—the lawyer turned artist’s model.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You want to apologize. I need a model for the next part of my work. I was going to use a recommendation from one of the other artists who lives here but this is much better. You never agreed to let me paint you when we were together. You can make up for that now. Call in sick. You’ll stay with me for the week and you can leave knowing you apologized for the shitty way you ended things.”
“Model for you? How?”
“What do you mean, how? I’ll put you in a pose and you’ll hold it for as long as I tell you. Think you can sit still for that long?”
“Of course I can,” she said, rising to the bait. “I meant, wearing what?”
“Whatever I choose. I have a few ideas in mind,” he said, walking around her, taking in the possibilities she presented. “I can see where your thoughts are going. Yes, some of them may be nudes. It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked, Mia.” Truthfully, he hadn’t thought of doing any nudes for the exhibition but now that she was here he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. He would find a way to make them work into the overall theme of the show.
“Naked in bed and naked while you paint are different.”
“True. Are you saying no to the proposition?” Xander enjoyed the pause, her obvious discomfort. He was counting on her predictability. He was presenting her with a challenge and he knew Mia never walked away from one.
“How recognizable will I be in the paintings?”
“Your expressions only, not identity. Your coworkers will never know it’s you.” He saw her square her shoulders. Got her, he thought.
“When do we start?” she asked.
“We start now,” Xander said, grabbing a pad.
A week with him. It hadn’t been twenty minutes and already sparks of anger and passion were flying around them in equal measure. What would happen if she gave him what he wanted? She could make the time at the firm since she had plenty of leave saved that Ruth Ann had been encouraging her to take. She could do Forget-Me-Not work from any computer with Internet access. But her true concern was deeper.
Having him stare at her, see her. Mia had left him because she’d felt too exposed. He had seen and understood her so clearly when they’d been dating. The one thing she’d always said no to had been his requests for her to pose for him. He had asked repeatedly but she’d never agreed. Accepting his suggestion now would show him she was sincere about her apology. It was a risk of course. She already knew that being near him tempted her and made it impossible for her to think unemotionally. Could she be with him constantly for a week and then leave?
Xander broke her out of her thoughts. “I want the first picture to be one of you looking buttoned-up and lawyerly. Then I’ll unveil you.” She flushed at his words. “Put that satchel you call a bag down over there and stand by this pole.” He pointed to the one near the window. Mia walked over and he arranged her with her back against the pole, arms behind her, hands threaded together. The position forced her to arch slightly, her breasts thrusting forward. “Keep your head back, chin up and look at me.”
She did. The coolness of the metal of the pole seeped through her shirt and chilled her heated skin, making her aware of how easily and how completely she’d agreed to this arrangement. It was out of character and natural simultaneously. “It’s hard on my arms.”
“Let me know if it gets too uncomfortable.” He walked back to his chair and stared at her. Finally he said, “Good. Stay in that position while I do an initial sketch.” He picked up a charcoal and got to work.
“Sounds like you’ve thought about this.”
“It shouldn’t be a surprise. I always wanted you to pose for me and you’ve been in my thoughts since our…” he paused, “encounter. You know me—when I think, I think in pictures. Now you’re here, so I am going to make use of that.”
She didn’t like the sound of “making use” but she couldn’t blame him for choosing those words. Thinking about their time in the dressing room, Mia remembered a question and asked, “I’ve been wondering about something. Who is Candy Stixx?”
“She works at Odeon on regular nights.”
“And how did you know she had condoms in the candy dish?”
“Locker room talk among the other dancers.”
“So you never took advantage of their availability or hers before?” Mia asked, arching one eyebrow up.
“I like that brow up. Can you keep it like that for a bit?”
“If you’ll answer my question.”
“I don’t typically go to the club on nights when I’m not working, so, no, I never enjoyed Candy. Not my type. She’s a blonde with a few too many enhanced body parts. I prefer cool brunettes who make me work to get close to them.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“Get rid of the scowl, please.”
“I let you get very close…”
“Back against the pole, Mia.”
“Said the stripper.” She smirked and did as he said, although she added a shimmy.
“Stop moving your body and your mouth.” Xander looked down at his sketch then back up at her. “The scowl, Mia. When I want to paint something called Attitude, I’ll ask for that look.”
This was going to be harder than she’d thought. When Xander got into a project, he was single-minded. It was something they shared. However, she had never been the object of that focus before and it unnerved her. She had never watched him work for any length of time. In the past, he’d finished for the day when she came over or he’d started as she was leaving. Now she had an opportunity to see his concentration and she found herself mesmerized by his intensity.
His eyes were like green glass, focused and grave. His hands moved rapidly, his body hardly at all. She had no idea how long she stood for him. It must have been over an hour, because when he put down the sketch pad, she saw that the light in the room had changed and the sun had gone down significantly.
He walked over to her and stared into her eyes. What was he thinking? What was he seeing?
“Good job. Thanks.” Not the words she’d been expecting. He didn’t move.
“You’re welcome.” She matched his stare with her own.
“You can let go of the pole, Mia.” She did and groaned as her muscles ached in protest to the sudden movement. “Ah, a hazard of the modeling trade. Come over to the couch and I’ll give you a massage.”
The thought of his touch on her skin sent her blood surging to places other than her muscles. She had no control, only reactions where he was concerned.
Xander took her hand, which produced another moan. “Poor baby. Go sit down over there while I’ll get some lotion.” He gestured to a futon in an area of the loft arranged for socializing. She sat down and realized that her legs and feet hurt as well. She had already dropped her boots on the floor when he returned.
“Take off your shirt and lie down.”
“We’re going to need extra room if I’m going to do this right,” Xander said, putting the lotion bottle on the table. He walked behind the futon, lifted a latch and the back came down gently, creating space—and a bed. “Scoot over.” Mia did and grabbed a pillow to pu
t under her head. She looks so content, he thought. Even after staring at her for nearly two hours, he could hardly believe she was here with him. Sketching her had felt almost like touching her. Or so he thought—until his slick hands wrapped around her shoulders. There was no heat in a sketch. There was in a touch.
“Harder,” she demanded.
“What?” he said, startled. He’d been lost in the moment.
“Your hands. A little harder, please.”
He smiled. “As you wish.” He increased the pressure on her shoulders and back and moved down her arms, pressing his chest against her as he did. She sighed softly.
“Do you do this for all your models?” she asked.
“Yes.” She tensed under his hands and he smiled again. “I paint abstracts, Mia. You’re the first live model I’ve used.”
“Oh,” she said, and he could feel the relief as she relaxed again.
Her skin felt wonderful under his hands and he loved the small sighs of pleasure she made when he did something she liked. It was time to do something he liked. He unhooked her bra and moved the strap away from her back. He worked the area then slid lower. Xander smiled when he saw her hips move in a sensual rhythm against the couch, a rhythm he’d like to feel against him.
What was it about her that made him ache with desire? He usually didn’t go for high-polished women but the first time he’d seen her smile—her real one, not the one she gave the delivery man—he’d known there was more to her than the front she presented. No one could have such a sexy open smile and be truly reserved. All he’d done was bring her a cup of coffee and he’d been rewarded with a flood of warmth and possibility.
Warmth and possibility… He wanted that now but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. She was his for the week. He could wait. Xander moved his hands down her back and into her pants, massaging the top of her ass. The moan he received changed his decision. No more waiting.
