Authors: Gracie C. Mckeever
“What about you?”
“Me? I’m going to go over to the other side of the room and paint your image with the taste of your essence on my tongue for inspiration.”
“Oh God…”
“Bur first, I have to get you situated.”
Patryk remembered the cuffs as soon as Keir took each of his wrists in a hand and raised Patrick’s arms above his head on the bed.
He trembled, flashing back to the time Derek had whipped him raw, had bound him naked to the bed and had left Patryk alone in their apartment for an entire weekend as punishment for Patryk’s questioning Derek’s comings and goings.
Too embarrassed to call out for help, he’d had no recourse except to stay in that bed alone at the mercy of Derek’s discretion.
The hunger and thirst hadn’t bothered him as much as the fear of being left along with is own random thoughts, left alone to regret every little decision that had led to his winding up with an abuser like Derek, left alone to grow balls enough to say no.
Ingenue’s Choice
65
In a way, Derek had done him a favor. Had he not taken Patryk to that final place of humiliation and madness, there was no telling how much longer Patryk would have hung around to be mistreated.
“Not this time,” Keir murmured, caressing Patryk’s face, and it took him a moment to realize Keir was referring to the cuffs. “You’re not ready.”
Patryk silently nodded, too grateful for words, relieved that he didn’t have to face those particular demons again.
Not now, not yet.
66
Gracie C. McKeever
Keir saw the panic splashed across Patryk’s face when he took his wrists and wanted to take Patryk in his arms and hold him until his fears went away.
And even though he wasn’t normally a violent person, he wouldn’t have minded slugging the person or persons responsible for instilling terror in so sweet a soul with an act that should only be exciting and pleasurable between two people who cared about each other.
Like he thought, he had a way to go to make Patryk feel safe enough to give himself to Keir, safe enough to trust Keir. But more important, he had to get Patryk to trust himself. He had a feeling Patryk hadn’t experienced that feeling in a long time.
“Are you comfortable?”
Patryk nodded, jade eyes so large in his face until they were the beginning and ending of Keir’s focus, the beginning and ending of his existence.
This was really dangerous because, technically, they had only known each other, what, a day and a half? And Keir couldn’t imagine a time in his life being without Patryk, his heart constricting at the idea of not having him around.
What if Patryk couldn’t deal with Keir’s kind of passion? What if he couldn’t deal with Keir’s intensity? What if he didn’t want to deal with Keir’s past?
It wasn’t like Keir could blame Patryk. Half the time he didn’t want to deal with his past either, except that he didn’t have a choice, especially at times like this when his past was staring him straight in the eye from the face of his future.
Ingenue’s Choice
67
Keir got Patryk into the pose he wanted—reclining on his side across the middle of the bed, upper body leaning on several pillows, arms raised above his head, and face tilted slightly upward in a posture of subtle surrender that made Keir hot just looking at him.
How was he supposed to paint Patryk when he wanted him so bad it hurt?
He’d done it before, had done some of his best work with his sexual urges in a holding pattern. Half the enjoyment of an encounter was the anticipation leading up to it. Keir believed this explicitly, but knew that being with Patryk would surpass every encounter he had ever had because Patryk was intrinsically different from any lover Keir had ever had. He was a natural-born submissive with relatively no limits.
Keir wondered if Patryk knew this about himself.
He mixed paints, preparing to outline the background before painting in his subject, felt Patryk’s tension from across the room as he touched his brush to the canvas.
This little session was going to be torture for both of them for different reasons—Patryk for having to stay still in one position for so long, and Keir for having to deny himself when so sexy and willing a subject lounged only feet away from his rampant libido.
It was a wonder he was able to capture Patryk’s form exactly the way he wanted, but Patryk was an excellent subject, still as a statue, so still in fact Keir wondered if he was alive.
But for the man’s light breathing, and the sound of Keir’s brushstrokes against the canvas, Keir could have been alone in the room it was so quiet.
“Do you want a break?” Keir asked, hoping Patryk said no, praying Patryk said yes. He was so turned on by his presence he didn’t know what he wanted anymore, except Patryk near him, beneath him, on top of him.
“No. I’m good.”
“You’re more than good.” Keir smiled, concentrating on getting Patryk’s natural dark blond hair down just right. The color and brighter highlights gleamed beneath the light of the room bringing out the luster of the strands to their fullest effect, making Keir swallow at the idea of threading and fisting his fingers through the luxurious waves.
68
Gracie C. McKeever
“Almost done.” He glanced at the watch on his left wrist, surprised so much time—almost two hours—had gone by and that he was nearly finished. He could have gone on staring at and painting Patryk for the rest of his life.
Keir made one finishing stroke against the canvas and glanced up at Patryk across the room with a smile.
Patryk met his look with a shy grin of his own at the exact moment that his stomach growled as if to emphasize the late hour.
“Sounds like someone’s ready for dinner.”
“Are we done?”
“I’ve got a few more finishing touches to make to the piece, but you don’t need to sit for those. We’re done.”
Yawning and looking like a sleek, tawny cat, Patryk sat up and stretched his arms above his head.
“Sit tight while I clean the brushes. I’ll be right back.” Keir gathered his brushes and went to the kitchen to go through his end-of-painting-day ritual of washing the sable tips in turpentine and normal soap and water. He dipped his soft brushes, however, in milk, gently shaping the tips before placing all of the brushes he’d used in a jar, tips up.
The entire process took less than twenty minutes, not enough time for his world to turn upside down, but it seemed as if this was exactly what had happened when Keir made it back to the bedroom to find Patryk sitting by the closet surrounded by several of Keir’s paintings. “What do you think you’re doing?”
* * * *
Oh my God, Keir really was an artist!
Not that Patryk had doubted his veracity. He’d just had no concept of the depth of Keir’s talent, something that far surpassed his own rudimentary attempts at painting when he’d minored in art his first year of college and had completed a year-long internship at the Museum of Modern Art before his parents convinced him there was no future for him in the arts.
Ingenue’s Choice
69
He was sure Keir didn’t let his parents make career choices for him, or let anyone else tell him what to do, especially to take an uninspiring, “stable” job in finance.
Why wasn’t the man showing his stuff in galleries?
Patryk suddenly wondered. Why wasn’t he rich and famous?
He had said he hadn’t painted in a long time and that Patryk inspired him.
That was nice to hear but what had stopped Keir from painting in the first place?
Something traumatic must have occurred to stop him from engaging in an activity that he was obviously passionate about.
Patryk could feel the fire and emotion wafting from the several canvases surrounding him as he sat by the closet in the living from where he had retrieved Keir’s paintings, could feel Keir’s energy and soul poured into the work.
He thought he should feel guilty about his nosiness, even heard Dharma’s voice in his head chiding him for his transgressions against Miss Manners. He’d been too curious after Keir left him alone in the bedroom, however, to contain himself and couldn’t find it in him to feel anything except supreme satisfaction and joy at his unexpected discovery.
The rest of the loft appeared devoid of any paintings or painting accessories except for the easel and canvas Keir had just painted Patryk’s image on.
He wondered if Keir was hiding more of his stuff anywhere else in the loft, wondered why he would be hiding anything as beautiful as the work Patryk had so far uncovered.
The man was a painter, so surely there must be more of his work around somewhere. Unless he was a really temperamental artist who thought almost everything he did garbage and discarded the pieces he thought unworthy for public consumption.
What would he do with the pictures he’d painted of Patryk? Would he use them to jerk off when Patryk wasn’t around? Patryk was almost afraid to ask.
Curiosity not quite sated, he got up and went back to the master bedroom where he stood in front of the large closet, contemplating.
The insides called to him. He knew the key to understanding Keir better, to knowing him, was in the closet.
70
Gracie C. McKeever
He wasn’t normally such a snoop, but he reasoned it wasn’t snooping, not when he planned on letting the man screw him silly first chance they got. It couldn’t be snooping when Keir had just tasted Patryk’s essence before capturing his nude form in an erotic pose that would have made Patryk’s mother blush.
Patryk reached out and opened the door.
As he suspected, several more canvases sat against the back wall.
He retrieved as many as he could and brought them out into the room to set against the wall around him as he had done in the living room, sat down on the carpeted floor with his legs folded over each other to look at the pictures in comfort.
Patryk glanced at the first picture to his left, his reaction to the vivid splashes of crimson and black was gut-wrenching and visceral. He felt the pain and horror of the painting down to his toes, as if Keir had reached inside and clutched his heart and soul in his fist.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Patryk turned with a start and immediately leaped to his feet at the dark look in Keir’s eyes, an expression that went well with his intimidating, unrelenting posture—feet planted apart and his fists on his hips.
Damn, he looked like some avenging superhero, and despite Patryk realizing he never wanted to get on Keir’s bad side—that is if he wasn’t already there—blood rushed to his quickly burgeoning cock at the idea of being on the other end of Keir’s anger.
God, Derek had screwed him up pretty good to make him look forward to another man’s aggression and fury.
Not just any man.
This
man.
“Okay, you got me. I was snooping.” Patryk threw up his hands trying to make light of his nosiness with a conciliatory tone, but Keir was having none of it, dark eyes blazing as if lit from a fire within when he came farther into the room.
“I’ve got eyes. The question is why were you snooping?”
“I was curious to see what else you’d done.”
“If I’d wanted anyone to see my stuff, I would have it out, hanging up and on display.”
Ingenue’s Choice
71
Patryk wanted to ask him why he didn’t, the question right on the tip of his tongue, but he held it, already regretting his impulsiveness that had incited Keir’s wrath.
What was the man hiding? Did he have a darker and freakier side than him or Derek?
Patryk shuddered at the idea, heart throbbing with denial even as he watched Keir stalk across the room, snatch each of the four paintings Patryk had taken out, and replace them in the closet.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought…” He let the rest die on his lips when he realized that Keir wasn’t hearing anything passed his indignation.
Patryk stepped out of Keir’s way as Keir emerged from the closet anger intact.
He thought this was worse than Derek. A cheating, abusive boyfriend Patryk could take, in fact had taken for a couple of years. But Keir was hiding something much darker and more painful than another guy in his life, hiding something more damaging than abusiveness.
Feeling suddenly defeated and exposed, Patryk retrieved the robe from where Keir had earlier thrown it. “I’m sorry, and you’re right. I had no business going through your things. I’ll just get dressed and leave.” He slid the robe over his nakedness as he brushed by Keir and headed toward the bathroom.
“Just like that?”
For a moment, Patryk thought Zara had popped into the room and spoken to him until he glanced over his shoulder to see Keir’s dark eyes twinkling like stars.
“Are you giving up on me just like that?”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“And you just do anything someone wants you to do?”
Okay, now
he
was getting angry and snapped, “No, I don’t do anything someone wants me to do. Not unless I want to.”
“Good.” Keir nodded sharply. “Now come here.”
“What if I don’t want to, Dr. Jekyll?”
72
Gracie C. McKeever
Keir chuckled and the dark, secret side of him faded into oblivion beneath the rich, lighthearted sound. “But you do want to come, don’t you?”
God yes, he did!
He was probably out of his mind for wanting a mercurial man who plainly had secrets he did not want to share. But he couldn’t help thinking that trusting Keir was the right thing to do.
“You want me to come get you?” Keir murmured.
Patryk lifted his chin, bracing himself. “Maybe I do.”
“You might change your mind when you see what I have in store as punishment for your snooping.”
“But you have to catch me first to dole it out.”
“Don’t think I won’t chase you.”
Patryk caught Keir’s approach almost too late, broke for the living room, open robe billowing around him like a cape as he ran with Keir hot on his ass.
He made it halfway across the sizeable living room before Keir threw his arms around Patryk’s waist and tackled him to the futon.