by Becca Colton
“I was just thinking you seem awfully shy for a model.”
She laughs, a cute little snort at the end. Her cheeks flush bright red at that. “What makes you think I’m a model?”
I angle to the side and look over my shoulder. She follows my gaze.
“Oh.” Her blush grows deeper.
“Oh?” I can’t help but grin at her response. I’ve probably smiled more while in this presence of this gorgeous woman than I have in the past year.
She shrugs. “I know the artist. I had to much wine and agreed to pose. It was silly.”
I suppress a sudden spark of rage that explodes within me. It’s not fucking silly to me. Another man saw her naked? Did he touch her? She gasps and looks at my hand. I realize I tightened my grip and force my fingers to relax.
“So,” I say, forcing my voice to remain calm, “this Umbra. Is he a boyfriend? Husband?”
She smiles. “He is a she . . . and I regretted it as soon as I saw it the next morning.” She shakes her head. “I should’ve put a match to it.”
I slide my hand down her arm and take her hand, drawing her closer to me. “Such a vision of beauty should never be destroyed. The talent” — I reach up with my other hand and caress her cheek — “the beauty,” I whisper softly.
“I’m not talented,” she says. She frowns, as if she said something she didn’t mean to say. “I mean, it’s not like it takes a lot of skill to sit and pose . . . which is all I did.”
I smile. “You might be surprised to find that modeling can be a demanding job, and with the right subject painting can seem almost effortless.” I shrug. “I don’t mean to detract from Umbra’s skills because she is incredibly talented, but it’s not hard to create a work of art when the woman posing is as lovely as a goddess.”
I look into her eyes, noticing for the first time an intriguing network of thin black lines that run through her sapphire blue eyes, almost as if they were fine china that had been dropped and cracked. I run my fingers across her chin, tilting her head up. She licks her lips, our gazes locked together. “You have such exquisite eyes.” I lean towards her, anxious to feel her lips against mine.
Chapter 5
Skylar
I step back, pulling my hand from his. His fingers tighten for a second before releasing me. My chin tingles where he caressed me, and the sudden shock in his eyes is like a kick in the stomach, but I can’t let him get close. Not when he thinks I’m flawless. “I’m not a goddess,” I say, my throat suddenly dry as I fight back tears. “I’m a freak.”
He reaches for me, but there’s nothing he can do to change things, so I do what I always do when someone tries to get close. I turn and run.
I head toward the door I saw earlier, my fantasy becoming reality. Too bad it’s not the other fantasy I had in mind. The one where the Collector makes me part of his collection, the one where he draws me close and worships me with his hands and lips and . . . I shake my head. That’ll never happen. He’s the Collector, known for admiring flawless beautiful things. And I’m far from flawless. He already noticed my eyes. He just doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know how broken I am.
I run through the gallery, barely keeping my balance on the heels that Cyn talked me into wearing. With a growl, I kick them, leaving them where they lay. I don’t know if anyone is watching the crazy lady make a run for it, and I don’t care. I shove through the door and run down the hall, my tears smearing everything in front of me. Luckily, I don’t need to see to know where I’m going.
Chapter 6
Logan
I stare at Skylar as she runs through the crowd, disappearing through a door marked ‘Employees Only’. I’m a freak. Her words. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen thinks she’s a freak. I feel a surge of anger build inside me and I wish I could get my hands on whoever made her have such a low opinion of herself.
The friend—Cyndie I believe she said her name was—is headed toward the door Skylar went through, and that just won’t do. Nobody comforts my woman except me. I hesitate for just a second. My woman? I nod to myself. Yes. I don’t know exactly when it happened—perhaps when I saw the painting, perhaps when I saw her—but she’s my woman.
I pick up the discarded heels and walk quickly toward the door, outpacing the girl with my long legs. “I’ll take care of this.” I point at the black and white portrait. “That’s mine. Nobody else gets it.”
The girl looks into my eyes, and apparently she sees something that makes her trust that her friend is in good hands. She nods and heads toward the portrait.
The door Skylar went through opens into a long hallway, with numerous doors lining the walls on both sides. The sound of crying echoes through one of those doors, ripping out my insides. Something I did, something I said, made her cry. I don’t know what, but I do know it’s important that I fix it.
I follow the sounds to an almost-but-not-quite-shut door toward the end of the hall on the right. I push the door open and step into what appears to be an artist’s studio, with easels set up throughout the tiny room and shelves loaded down with various paint supplies. Skylar is sitting on a workbench along the far wall, her face buried in her hands. I walk up to her silently, place the heels on the bench next to her, and run my fingers gently down one arm. She flinches slightly, not realizing she was followed. When she looks up at me, her sadness becomes my own. Her eyes are red, her cheeks stained with tears, and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I vow, right then, to do my best to make sure I never make her cry again.
I reach up and cup her cheek, swiping a tear away with my thumb. She stares into my eyes, her lips parting slightly. I accept her silent invitation and claim her mouth with mine.
Chapter 7
Skylar
Just a couple of seconds ago, it felt like my life was ruined. I was shattered, tormented by a nightmare that had happened years ago.
But now? Now the pain and the fear are gone, replaced by a fiery passion that ignited deep inside my soul and spread throughout my entire body.
Logan looked into my eyes and I saw my pain echoed there. This wonderful man thought he was the source of my pain. I was going to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but his lips were on mine before I could utter a single word, and now I’m lost within his kiss. When his tongue pressed against my lips, I gladly invited him in, my body humming with excitement as he kisses me so passionately that my toes curl. One hand rests gently against my face while his other hand runs through my long blonde curls. My fingers fumble with the button of his tuxedo jacket and then claw at his chest through his white silk shirt. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer, my panties becoming wet with arousal when he growls into my mouth.
He breaks the kiss and pulls away, his eyes filled with lust as he reaches for me. He tugs the thin straps of my dress down my shoulders and then pulls my dress down, revealing my bare breasts, my hard nipples. I moan as he clamps his lips tightly around one, his tongue flicking across the sensitive flesh.
Frustrated with not being able to feel him, I grab his shirt and rip it open, a tiny tap-tap-tap sound filling the room as buttons go flying. I anxiously pull his t-shirt from his pants and slide my hands under the cotton, my moans deepening when I feel his washboard abs beneath my fingers.
He growls around my nipple, nipping me with his teeth as I slide my hands further up his magnificent-feeling chest, my nails digging into his firm pecs.
His lips move to my other nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth, as one of his hands slides under my dress. He growls when his fingers make contact with my wet panties.
“So fucking wet,” he says softly, his voice deep with lust. “Is this pussy wet for me, Skylar?”
Without waiting for an answer, he curls his fingers around the cotton strip blocking him from what he wants and tears the material from my body, dropping what used to my panties to the floor. He kisses his way from my breasts up to my neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across my ski
n. He slides his fingers up and down my wet slit, teasingly grazing my clit each time he moves up. I groan, trying to press against his hand, my body craving more from him.
“Tell me, Skylar,” he whispers against my neck. “Tell me your pussy is wet for me.”
I gasp as he slowly slides a finger around my throbbing clit, my inner muscles clenching. “My pussy is wet for you, Logan.”
Slowly, so fucking slowly, his fingers slide down, pressing at my entrance.
“This pussy belongs to me now, Skylar. Yes?”
He slides just the tip of his finger inside me.
“Fuck yes,” I moan, my legs trembling around him. “It’s your pussy. Only yours.”
He slides his finger deep inside me, curling it up and touching a spot I never imagined existed. “Good girl,” Logan says. His finger strokes inside me, hitting that spot over and over. My orgasm washes over me before I’m even aware it’s coming.
“Oh god, yes!” I scream, not caring if anyone outside this room can hear me.
Logan nips at my neck as his thumb presses against my clit, his finger still rocking back and forth deep inside me.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp. “Again. Oh shit. I’m going to come again” I squeeze my eyes shut, my nails digging into his flesh. I squeeze my thighs against his hand, pinning him there as another wave of pure orgasmic bliss crashes over me, sending fireworks off behind my eyes. I try to ignore the vivid colors exploding in my mind’s eye: the reds, the blues, and the yellows.
My eyes snap open and I push against Logan’s broad chest. There’s no way my tiny hands could move him if he didn’t want to be moved, but he moves back slowly, his brow wrinkled with confusion and concern. My body screams at me, begging me to give in for once and just enjoy the moment, and I want to. God, I want to. I’m panting heavily, my legs are still trembling, and I want nothing more than to feel his mouth and hands on me again. But I want so much more, too, and that’s the problem. I know one moment, one night, won’t be enough with this man. I want it all. An entire lifetime. And that’s not fair to him. I’m damaged, and he deserves more than that.
I slide down from the counter, pulling the top of my dress up my body, holding back a groan as the material slides across my hard sensitive nipples.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You deserve better.” I step around him, running from the demons of my past again. He calls my name, but I don’t look back. If I look back, I might stop, and that’s something I can’t do. It’s better to wonder about what might have been than see rejection in his eyes when he learns how broken I am.
Chapter 8
Logan
Damn it! Once more, I watch Skylar run away. I saw the way she looked at me, felt how her body responded to my touch. She’s not running from me, but something else. Something that makes her feel broken. I shake my head.
I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, willing to do anything to enjoy time in my world of wealth and power, and this woman, this beautiful woman who has slipped under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch has run away twice. It won’t happen a third time.
With a frustrated sigh, I head back to the main gallery. I’m not surprised to see Skylar’s friend, Cyndie, waiting for me. I’m also not surprised by her words.
“She left,” she says, shrugging. “It’s going to sound cliché, but it’s not you; it’s her.”
“She said she’s a freak.” I hate saying the words, hate that she feels this way about herself.
Her friend grimaces and nods. “There’s a story there, but it’s not mine to tell.
“Tell me where to find her and she can tell me the story herself.”
She smiles a sad smile and the regret in her eyes reveals the answer before she says anything. “I’d like to . . . but I can’t.” She shrugs. “Girl code. and Best Friend code.”
“I’ll give you five thousand dollars for her home address,” I say.
She smiles. “The fact that you pull out the big guns without starting with something like a hundred bucks says a lot about how you feel about her.” She pats my shoulder. “I hope you find her.” She starts to walk off but then she stops and looks back at me. “I was going to help her pack up her . . . Umbra’s paintings in the morning” — she winks — “but I think I’m going to be busy so she’ll be here by herself. Just in case any serious talk . . . or anything else happens.” She flashes me another smile and walks off.
With a sigh of regret, I walk out to my car. Usually, sliding behind the wheel of my BMW Z4 puts a smile on my face, but not now. Now, after all these years, I know what my life has been missing. I know what I’ve been searching for. All I have to do is find her and let her know that.
An image of her in the back room flashes through my mind, her moaning loudly as I finger-fucked her through her second orgasm. I growl, my grip tightening on the steering wheel, my cock growing uncomfortably hard within my pants. I look around. The parking lot is still filled with cars, most of the patrons still enjoying the art and free drinks, unaware of the drama that unfolded around them. I unzip my pants and my throbbing cock springs into the air, the bulbous head slick with precum.
I wrap my fingers around my shaft and slowly start stroking, images of Skylar flying through my head. Her sharp intake of breath when she first noticed me looking at her, her pert breasts revealed before my eyes for the first time, capped with nipples as hard as diamonds, begging for me to suckle them, the delicious sounds she made as I tore her panties from her body and plunged my fingers inside her tight hot pussy. I groan and lean my head back, my hand a blur as it slides up and down my shaft. I growl, deep and low, as I come, my hips thrusting into the air as my silk dress shirt is coated with my seed.
I slowly relax back against the seat, breathing heavy. I chuckle softly. When’s the last time I jerked off in my car? Never. I have to find Skylar. I have to make her mine.
Chapter 9
Skylar
I wipe my arm across my forehead, wiping away a layer of sweat as I look at the painting I just took down and leaned against the wall. This was the biggest one out of all the ones I brought to the gallery. Well, the self-portrait was the biggest, but there’s nothing but blank wall space where it was hanging. I try not to think too much about that.
Fortunately, I’m not having to pack up as much as I did for the trip up here. At least half my inventory sold last night, and that puts a huge smile on my face. Umbra is as popular with live showings as she is online. It was a perfect night. Except for the part where a man gave me the best oral sex I could imagine right before I ran away from him. And not just any man. Logan ‘The Collector’ Brighton. A god in the art world. I shake my head. If you’re going to fuck up, might as well fuck up in the biggest way possible, right?
“I guess I’m a little late.”
I turn toward the door, my pulse speeding up. I’d recognize that sexy deep voice anywhere. Logan is standing just inside the door, looking as delicious as sin in tight jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his impressive chest. I run my hand across my lips, checking for drool, as I admire his bulging biceps. The tuxedo from last night was misleading. I knew he was big, but I had no idea he was BIG! My traitorous eyes drop down between his legs. Yep. The man is definitely big all over. I force myself to look back up at his face.
“Hi,” I say, resisting the urge to run again. Why is he here? Why now? He looks like sex on a stick and I look like I’ve spent the last hour packing up paintings. I’m sweating, I’m not wearing makeup, and my frazzled hair is being somewhat controlled by being forced into a ponytail.
“I wanted to help you pack,” he says, and looks around at the bare walls. “Looks like I’m a little late.”
I nod. “Yeah, they have to set up for another show in a little while.” I narrow my eyes at him. “How did you know I’d be here?”
He smiles. “Your friend told me you’d be here.”
I mutter a few choice words about my ‘friend’.
His smile widens. “Don’t be too
angry with her. I offered her five thousand dollars for your address.” He shrugs. “She turned it down.”
I blink. I had to hear that wrong. Or maybe I owe Cyn a really nice birthday present.
“Why did you want my address?”
“I wanted to invite you over for dinner.”
Yeah, right. “Just dinner?”
He flashes a mischievous grin. “I thought we could see where the evening might take us.”
His eyes roam slowly up and down my body, and I squeeze my thighs together at the sudden warmth between my legs. “That could be interesting,” I say, my voice a bit breathy.
His eyes flash, revealing the same hunger he had last night. He pulls a card from his back pocket and places it on the empty reception desk near the door. “My place. Tonight. Seven.” His eyes manhandle my body again, and then he turns and leaves. I gasp when I see how those tight jeans hug his ass. And that voice, that dominant tone. As if there’s no chance I’d say no to his dinner . . . invitation? No. More like a dinner demand. And he’s right.
I make up my mind right there, as butterflies take flight in my tummy and a hungry fire ignites between my legs, my mind going back to our time in the back room. It doesn’t matter that I’m broken. I want this man. I know I can’t have forever with him, but dammit, I’m going to have one night with him.
Chapter 10
Logan
I wipe my hands on the dish towel, glancing at the clock as I hear a tentative knock at the front door. I smile. She’s right on time.
