Burn (Breathless #3)(31)

A dreamy, contented look entered her eyes, some of the earlier shadows chased away as she relaxed. Tension drifted from her shoulders, and they settled, her entire body going slack.

“Hungry?” he asked huskily, entranced by the provocative image she presented.

Finally. In his bed. Just inches away. His body screamed at him to take her, to take what was his even as he mentally chastised it for being an impatient ass**le.

“Starved,” she admitted. “I haven’t eaten well over the past few days.”

His expression darkened and anger vibrated once more from his body. “You’ll take better care of yourself from now on. I’ll take better care of you,” he amended.

She smiled. “It’s not solely because of . . . Michael . . . and what happened. I’ve been busy with work.”

He knew well why, but he asked anyway, because it would seem odd not to, and she was offering information, relaxing around him, and he wanted that. Wanted easy communication. No hesitancy or reserve on her part.

“What have you been working on?”

Color tinged her cheeks and he glanced curiously at her.

“I’ve been working on an erotic series of paintings. Not too over the top. Tasteful. Sexy but still classy.”

Excitement gleamed in her eyes as she sat back a moment, refusing further food from his hand.

“I sold all my work that was exhibited in the art gallery where I sell on consignment! It was the most incredible thing. Mr. Downing had told me he couldn’t take anything else of mine because nothing had sold and I had already brought him the first painting in the series I’m working on. Then he called to tell me the news that not only had he sold everything but that he wanted more! And that a buyer was interested in whatever I brought in. I’ve spent the week working on the rest of that series.”

She ducked her head self-consciously and then peeked back up at him from underneath her lashes.

“They’re self-portraits. I mean, not that you can tell who it is, but I used my likeness in a series of nude poses. I have a . . . tattoo, one I designed myself, and it features prominently in the paintings. I . . . I like them. I think they’re good. I hope the buyer will like them too.”

There was a note of anxiety at the end of her statement that made his heart clench. Hell yes he’d like them, and he’d be damned if anyone else even got to see them. They would be his. Only his. And only he would see her without her clothing. That was for him and him alone.

No doubt, Josie was a beautiful woman, and there was also little doubt that men and women alike would be drawn to the paintings. She had talent, no matter what the moron gallery manager had said about her style. It was only a matter of time before others discovered that talent. Ash was just glad he got to those paintings before someone else did. The idea of anyone else having something so intimate of Josie’s made his teeth clench.

“I’m sure your buyer will love them,” he said. Even as he spoke, he made a mental note to call Mr. Downing first thing Monday morning and make damn sure he wrapped and delivered the paintings to Ash’s office. “I’d love to have seen them myself.”

She blushed but smiled and then said, “Perhaps I can take you down to the gallery to see them. I only just dropped them off. Maybe the buyer won’t have bought them yet. They may sit there for days.”

He leaned in, touching her cheek and letting his fingers travel down her jaw to her neck where he pushed back the long blond strands of her hair. “I’d rather you draw me something new. Something no one but me will see. Perhaps even something a bit more erotic than your other paintings?”

Her eyes widened and then her brow furrowed as if she were visualizing the painting already. Her lips parted and her breath escaped in an excited rush. He could literally see her painting it in her mind.

“I have ideas,” she said. “I’d love to do something more personal. I mean, as long as you never displayed it.”

He shook his head solemnly. “No one but me will ever see it. I’ll treasure whatever you paint for me, Josie. But if you give me you, the sexy you, you can be damn certain it will only be for me and nobody else.”

“Okay,” she murmured, her face flushed with color and . . . arousal.

“Have you had enough to eat?”

She nodded and handed him the half-empty glass of wine. He set it aside and then took the tray to his dresser and left it before returning to the bed. And Josie.

He climbed in, holding his arm out so she could nestle beside him. They were leaned up against his mound of pillows, her body anchored against his.

“Now tell me about Michael,” Ash said in an even tone.

She stiffened against him and for a long moment she was silent. Then she sagged and blew out her breath.

“I was so wrong about him,” she whispered. “I never imagined him capable of something like this. Even during our relationship, when he exerted his . . . dominance . . . it was always done in a restrained, careful manner. He always treated me very carefully. Like he was determined never to hurt me.”

“Where were you when this occurred?” Ash demanded. “Did you go see him?”

She shook her head. “No. He came to me.”

Ash swore. “You let him into your apartment?”

She pushed up and off him, turning so she could look him in the eye. “Why wouldn’t I have? Ash, we were lovers. He never gave me any reason to believe he’d hurt me. He never lost his temper. Not once. I never even saw him angry. He’s always been very calm and restrained. He came to see me because he didn’t believe I was serious about ending our relationship. He brought the collar back, apologizing, saying that it evidently meant something to me and that he would be aware of that going forward.”