Lexie and Killian

by Desiree Holt

  She smiled then, and relief washed over her face.

  “That’s perfect. Killian, I’m not doing any of this to make you mad, or to shut you out of this. Please understand. I just have so many ghosts to chase.”

  He pulled her against him in a gentle hug. “I know. I just wish you’d let me chase them with you.”

  “Soon enough.”

  “Then let’s get going. While I’m waiting, I can call the ranch and talk to Stoney, check up on things.”

  She laughed a real laugh this time. “And you complain about me? You’ve called the man five times since we left the ranch this morning. He’s liable to quit.”

  “Naw. Stoney’s a good old hand. He puts up with me just fine.”

  “Puts up being the operative phrase,” she pointed out with a tiny grin. “I’m so glad these guys are working out well.”

  “Me, too. We’ve finally passed all the tests with the state, and the vet gave the entire stock a clean bill of health. As soon as we get back, we’re scheduling the first insemination.”

  “Until I met you,” she told him, “I thought horses did it the old fashioned way, just like people.”

  “Not if you want top quality foals,” he pointed out.

  “So I’m beginning to learn. Okay, let’s go downstairs and get a cab. I’ll check on my painting, and you can check on the horses.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me.”

  As they waited in front of the inn for the doorman to hail a cab for him, he couldn’t help wondering yet again what was so mysterious about this particular painting. What was so secretive? Was it the same one she’d entered three years ago and maybe now wanted vindication for? Or did it have something to do with that asshole Rick? Had Lexie been in contact with him? Was more going on here than he knew? Even before he met him, he was ready to punch his lights out.

  The cab pulled to the curb, and, as he helped Lexie into it, he made a solemn vow to himself to get to the bottom of everything.

  *****

  Killian would have dropped her off at the gallery, but Lexie wanted at least the distance of the two blocks separating them. She wasn’t sure if all the entries had been draped and covered or even where hers would be displayed, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d thought long and hard about the three images she’d submitted, crossing her fingers the one she wanted would be selected.

  Of course having any of them chosen for entry was a hugely big deal, but to have them want this one? It would be like the frosting on the cake. Despite lingering feelings of betrayal and inadequacy from the last show, she had applied for entry and willingly paid the fee to have this work exhibited. When they had chosen her favorite for the competition, she’d screamed with joy and done a little happy dance, glad Killian hadn’t been in the house to hear or see her.

  She had actually wrapped it in brown paper herself before Killian drove her to the city to get it shipped. She wasn’t taking any chances he’d catch a glimpse of it and refuse to let her show it. She classified her work as prairie art, leaning toward the Western of Frederick Remington and Charles M. Russell. Except, where they’d concentrated on the West of the late nineteenth century, Lexie had focused on the contemporary scenes of today.

  She’d asked the committee contact how the paintings were being staged, especially since this was in a private gallery. She’d breathed a sigh of relief when she was told the gallery would be closed for two days prior to the show with brown paper taped over the windows so no one got a preemptive look.

  Standing before the locked front doors, she pulled out the special identification tag she’d been given and knocked.

  “Yes?” The door cracked open, and a woman peered out at her. “We’re closed. Didn’t you see the signs?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” She held up her identification. “But I am one of the entrants and I wanted to check on my painting. Is that possible?” She wet her lips. “Please? I just want a peek.”

  The woman glanced at the badge and at Lexie and her features softened. “Of course. But be quick about it. The judges will be here this afternoon and will come back to view again tomorrow. That’s when they make their decisions. We’re expected to be ready for them.”

  “Of course, of course. Thank you.”

  She slid into the gallery, heard the door click shut and lock behind her. She paused, drew in a deep breath to steady herself, and looked around. The huge gallery took up two floors connected by a winding staircase. The entries were everywhere, some hanging on walls, some on easels. Volunteers ran around with checklists in their hands, making sure each one was in its proper place.

  “This way.”

  The woman nudged her and led her toward the right. And there it was, safely arrived. It hung against a curved wall, with a spotlight arranged just so to bring out the vibrant colors and the careful brush strokes. It was even more striking against the stark white of the wall. She’d known when she finished this it was the piece she would enter. She’d already had it in her mind to apply this year, even as nervous about it as she was.

  For one brief moment, the present disappeared and it was three years ago. She was in Savannah, waiting breathlessly for the judges to make their announcements. Rick had stood next to her, his arm around her, whispering encouraging words to her. Words that meant nothing when first place and the solo showing went to him.

  Oh, he’d been so self-effacing and so sympathetic. Telling her third place was just a stepping stone and to think of all the other entrants who came away with nothing. That later they’d have a quiet dinner in their room and he’d show her just how wonderful she was. Third, for heaven’s sake, when everyone else said first should have been hers. She’d figured at the time the judges had to give her something, hoping she wouldn’t make a fuss if and when she found out what happened. Not even the praise the critics had given her or the consoling words of other students eased the pain.

  She’d actually thought she might get past this and keep trying until she heard two women in the luxurious restroom make sniping remarks about Rick and how his money had bought him the prize. One of the women was a judge who’d laughed about the obscene amount of money he’d offered her and how she knew she’d have been a fool to turn it down.

  She’d fled from the restroom as soon as it emptied, raced to their hotel room, thrown her things into a suitcase, and gotten the hell out of there. Rick had called several times afterwards, pleading with her to speak to him, but she’d let everything go to voice mail. Finally, she’d just blocked his calls.

  She’d given him everything—her support and encouragement, her body, her heart—and he’d trampled on everything.

  Now, with a deliberate effort, she pushed it all out of her mind.

  “The painting is gorgeous,” the volunteer standing next to her whispered. “We’re not supposed to have opinions, but it’s impossible. I’ll be surprised if this one doesn’t win.”

  Lexie felt herself blush. “Thank you. But a lot of talented people entered.”

  “That’s true. But the judges will be looking for the right person, the right talent, not just for the prize but for the solo showing promised to the winner.” She glanced at Lexie, questioningly. “You do have enough for a show, right? If you win?”

  “I do.” All the things she’d been painting in secret for two years.

  “Well, then. However, I hate to do this, but you’ll need to leave. The judges will begin arriving in about fifteen minutes.”

  Lexie nodded. “Understood. And thank you so much for allowing me in to see this.”

  “My pleasure. But let’s get you out of here quickly. One of the regulations of this particular show is that the artists have no input on placement of their entries. We try to be impartial about all of them.”

  “I know. And thank you again.”

  She was trembling when she stepped back out to the sidewalk and heard the lock click into place behind her.

  I’m really doing it.

  If nothing else, just ent
ering the competition and being selected was a big step to slaying her dragons. If she won, well, maybe she could finally put the past to rest. She just hoped there wouldn’t be a problem when she told the committee the painting was not for sale.

  Well, if anyone wanted to buy it, she’d deal with it then.

  Chapter Five

  Killian wished Lexie would relax a little more. Lunch had been wonderful, and they’d even had wine with it. Then they’d decided to do a little strolling and walked through historic Savannah, an incredible section of downtown. The four-block city market had a variety of shops and outdoor café tables and chairs for weary walkers to rest their feet and their wallets. Late in the afternoon, they’d stopped for ice cream cones and eaten them silently as they people-watched.

  By the time they returned to the inn, he noticed Lexie had relaxed fractionally, but he knew she needed something more to take the edge off before the reception tonight. He ached for her as she battled her unpleasant memories. He wanted to do something, anything, to remind her how cherished she was and that the damn award didn’t mean as much to him as she did.

  But he also knew how the past ate away at her. He just hoped if he saw that bastard Rick he could restrain himself from punching out his lights.

  As soon as they were back in their room, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a light kiss.

  “How about if we take a bath before the reception tonight?”

  “A bath?” She looked at him with a question in her eyes. “You mean, together?”

  “Uh-huh. Seems a shame to waste that great big tub in there for just one person. You said they always serve a mountain of food at the opening reception, so I’m guessing we don’t have to worry about eating. At least food.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she caught his meaning. “Nooo,” she drawled. “We sure don’t.”

  “So, I had a thought or two about how we could spend the time. Maybe soothe those nerves of yours you keep trying so hard to hide.” He took her hand and tugged her toward him, staring down into her face.”

  “You know me so well,” she admitted. “I’m doing my best, Killian.”

  “I know you are, darlin’. And now I’m going to do my best to help you out here.”

  She let out a squeal when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the giant four-poster bed. Pulling back the comforter, he deposited her on the soft mattress covered with silken sheets. Then he knelt before her and took first one foot then the other in his hands.

  “You wear shoes made to be chastity belts,” he teased in frustration as his big fingers worked to unbuckle the tiny straps.

  “I’ll keep that in mind if you ever misbehave,” she teased. “I’ll put the leather to good use.”

  When he’d finally freed the sandals and dropped them to the floor, he lifted one foot to his knee and kneaded her arch and her heel with his thumb. She leaned back on her hands, her sigh of satisfaction making his cock try to push its way out of his slacks. Of course, it seemed every time he touched her he had the same problem. He hoped that feeling never went away.

  Finished with one foot, he went to work on the other. Her little sighs and whimpers made every stroke worth the effort, especially when she lay back on the bed, giving herself over to this simple pleasure. Finished with her feet, he went to work on her calves, giving them the same type of sensuous massage, and then to her thighs. His thumbs brushed the crotch of her insubstantial little thong, but that was all it was. A mere brush, even though she moaned in pleasure.

  “Be right back,” he told her, rising to his feet.

  “What? Wait!” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “You’re leaving me now? Where are you going?”

  The grin he gave her was filled with hunger. “Bath. Remember? I need to get it started.”

  “But—”

  He bent down for a moment, flipped aside her skirt, and kissed her knees. “Be right back.”

  The first thing he did was pick up the phone in the bathroom—and hadn’t his eyes just widened at the sight of a phone in the bathroom—and placed a special room service order. Then he turned his attention to the task at hand. The tub was every bit as big as he’d remembered it from before. Set on a platform, he thought maybe it could hold four people. Interesting idea if he’d been into that kind of thing. Which he wasn’t. He didn’t ever intend to share his Lexie with anyone.

  His Lexie. He loved the sound of that. They’d had a whirlwind courtship and a quick marriage, but by the time he got past worrying he might be like Dusty and she got past hiding her painting, they’d both known this was it for them, so why wait? Every day since then had been like a gift.

  He turned on the taps, adjusted them to get the right water temperature, set the plug, and let the stream flow. Hesitating only a moment, he picked up some of the many jars of bath salts on the counter, sniffing each one to see which he liked the best. Choosing one that smelled sort of like sunshine and flowers, he dumped a good portion in the tub. On the label, it promised the salts were soothing. And, damn, that was exactly what Lexie needed right now. He hoped the bath and the rest he had planned would make all that tension disappear.

  Satisfied the tub was filling nicely, he hurried back into the bedroom, smiling when he saw his wife exactly the way he’d left her. He toed off his boots and knelt by the bed again, smoothing his hands along her calves and thighs once more. She wore a ruffled cotton sundress today but no pantyhose. She’d once told him she considered them the devil’s handiwork. That made it easy for him to slide his hands up her body to reach her thong and tug it down her legs.

  As he did so. His knuckles brushed her mound again, pressing slightly on those pouty lips and the neat curls covering them. He loved her diligence about her bikini wax, leaving everything but neat lines of curls on the lips of her sweet little pussy. Everything else was bare to his touch.

  “Ooh!” she squealed. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, yet.” He laughed, low in his throat. “But I’m about to.”

  He left her skirt in place, covering her thighs to the knees, but slipped his hands back up and lightly stroked her full labia. She trembled beneath his touch, trying to squeeze her thighs against his hands and draw them in tighter, urge him to touch her everywhere. But Killian was on a mission, and he wouldn’t be deterred. He stroked her lips with his thumbs, brushed his knuckles against her thighs, and squeezed her soft mound with his fingers. When she was squirming beneath him, he rose, helped her to a sitting position, and unzipped the back of her dress, lowering it to her waist.

  “I don’t know why you even wear this.” He stroked his thumbs over the satin of her flimsy bra. “I’d like you much better without it.”

  “But I don’t think you’d like the people of Savannah getting an unrestrained view of my goodies bouncing when I walked, would you?”

  “Hell, no. I’m the only one who gets to enjoy them, and don’t you forget it.” To emphasize his possession, he lowered his head and captured one rosy tip in his mouth. He loved the little sounds of gratification she made when he did that. They were as sensuous and arousing to him as actually touching her. He grazed the pebbled flesh with his teeth, bit down once gently, and moved to the other one.

  Lexie was half sitting, braced on her hands, head thrown back. When he glanced up, he saw the flush of pleasure on her face, and, immediately, his cock made itself known again. The sight made him want to dive back under her skirt. And he would have if there hadn’t been a knock on the door at that exact moment. He rose to his feet, withdrawing his hands from her body.

  “Ohmigod.” Lexie stared at hm. “Who is that?”

  Killian winked. “Part of my special treatment for incredible wives.”

  He waited until she’d pulled the top of her dress up enough to cover herself before opening the door. A waiter, wearing what Killian was sure was a habitually blank expression, wheeled a cart into the room. A champagne bottle nestled in a bowl of crushed ice. Next to it sat a platter of chocolate-c
overed strawberries and tiny crackers with cheese.

  “Thanks.” Killian tipped the waiter, who nodded and made a discreet exit. He closed the door and slipped the safety bar. “Hold on a sec,” he told Lexie, and hurried into the bathroom. The tub had filled almost to the top, the fragrance of its crystals filling the air in the room. He shut off the taps, made sure the towels were ready on the heated towel bar, and went back into the bedroom.

  Lexie was on her knees on the bed, clutching her dress and staring at the table. She looked up at Killian.

  “This is incredible. When did you do this?”

  “I have my secrets.”

  “B-but what…I mean…why…?”

  “I thought you deserved a little extra celebrating for having the courage to apply for entry into this shindig. You have real talent, darlin’. I want the world to see it. I’m just so proud of you.”

  “Oh, Killian. I love you so much.” She launched her naked self at him, pressing her wonderful breasts into his chest and making his dick ache with repressed need. If it could talk, he was sure it would be groaning.

  “I know, sugar. I love you the same.”

  He set her gently away from him, divesting her of her dress hanging from her hips. Then he took a second to drink in the sight of her now completely nude body. It was always such a pleasure to look at her.

  He poured champagne into the flutes and handed one to her.

  “To my gorgeous, adorable, wonderful talented wife. You are everything I could ever have wished for.”

  “Back at you,” she said.

  They touched their flutes before taking long sips. Killian quickly stripped off his own clothes and nudged her back to the bed.

  “But the bath,” she reminded him.

  “Let’s let it set for a moment, darlin’. I’ve been thinking about feeding you these strawberries ever since I ordered them.” He lifted one from the tray, but before he held it to her mouth, he touched it briefly to each nipple. “Don’t think I can make those taste any better, but we can always add to the flavor.”