Platinum (Facets of Passion) Read online

  “Ah, the simple pleasures.” Steel gestured to an arbor festooned with grapevines. Underneath sat a wooden hot tub. “See? I just thought you might like a little soak.”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

  He whipped the cover off the tub, tested the temperature and sighed happily. Flicking a switch, he set the water to bubbling and white lights, like thousands of stars in the deepening evening, lit up in the vines. “Me neither. No one can see us—it’s well screened.”

  He yanked off his T-shirt over his head, the gold nipple ring winking at her. Sucking in his belly, even though he didn’t have to, he flipped the top button of his jeans and raised an eyebrow at her. “Just going to watch the show, sugar? Or are you getting in?”

  Actually, watching the show sounded pretty good at the moment. So did a soak under the pretty arbor. Unsure why she’d been annoyed, Althea sat in the grass to peel off her boots, then stood again to shuck her jeans and T-shirt. It felt oddly freeing to undress outdoors, to feel the soft evening air against her skin.

  By the time she got her bra and panties off, Steel was already in the tub, giving her an appreciative smile. His expression seemed warm, though, and not wolfish, so she took his hand and let him help her into the tub. She groaned at the surge of hot water melting into her bones and tender flesh.

  “This was such a good idea,” she murmured, with her head tipped back, eyes closed.

  “I know.”

  Okay, he sounded smug and self-satisfied, but she’d give him that. He hadn’t gone outside the lines of the affair or what have you. In fact, he seemed to observe her boundaries quite closely, understanding her surprisingly well for such a short acquaintance. More than she understood about him.

  He had his head leaned back over the rim of the tub, ridged throat stretched up in utter relaxation. His tanned arms moved through the water in idle waves, showing now and again through the bubbles. Though his legs were extended, he angled them away from her, giving her space. Instinctively knowing she needed it.

  “So, your friend who lives here—is he on vacation?”

  Steel snorted. “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He opened one eye, assessed her and closed it again. “You sure you want to know, princess?”

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  “He’s vacationing at Allendale Prison. Possession, before you ask. Plus a little dust-up with the cops.”

  Oh. “Is he someone you’ve known a long time?”

  “We grew up together, yeah. He has an auto body shop up Summerville way. He gave me space to work on the sculptures when I needed it. Lets me raid his scrap metal. I owe him for being there when no one else was. Watching his place is easy enough.”

  A wealth of information lurked under his words. So many things unspoken in the yawning gap between their worlds. Why had only this one friend been there for him?

  “No comment?” He raised an eyebrow and opened that eye to squint at her.

  “So, is that why you moved out of the shop and into my place—because he went to prison?”

  Steel levered himself into a more upright position and ran wet hands through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. The rising steam made the wild ends curl and cling to his neck. “Well, the shop is still open. His second is running it and does okay. But yeah, that was part of it. And the other guys—some of ’em are real dipshits. One used my diamond-head drill bit to put his initials on his socket wrench.” He shook his head at that. “Another idiot ruined my best fine oil brush to pinstripe a Mustang. Pissed me off no end.”

  She could just picture him, in all his artistic intensity, trying to explain to a garage monkey why you couldn’t use a mink brush in auto paint. She giggled and Steel gave her a sour look. “Yeah, laugh. It wasn’t funny at the time.”

  “I’m sorry.” She tried to compose her face.

  “I just wanted to be in a place where people understood art. Things are happening for me—I want to do it right. Those guys have good hearts—they just come from a different world, you know?”

  “I do know.” But did she, really? It was hard to imagine his coming up, compared to hers.

  Silence fell between them, straining with their differences. Except that the art had altered his life and moved him into a path that crossed with hers. Like a comet blasting through her quiet life, scorching hot and, likely, just as quickly gone.

  “How did you start sculpting?”

  “Truth?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I guess you haven’t run yet. Schools and camps for troubled boys.” He flashed that wicked grin at her, but something melancholy ran beneath it. “I won’t lie to you, Althea. I got into plenty of trouble. Too much mad in me and nothing to use it on. A social worker put a brush in my hand and told me to paint it out.”

  He sighed and tipped his head back again, staring up at the lights. “She might have saved me. Then a shop teacher taught me arc-welding and it all came together. I see my friends—like Badger, who owns this place—they didn’t have that…hunger to pull them through the shit, you know?”

  “I envy you that, actually.”

  He looked at her. “Really? You have the gallery. It’s clear you love the place.”

  “I do, but…” She swished her shoulders in the water, feeling restless. This wasn’t something she talked about. “It lets me enjoy art, but it’s not the same as being the artist. It’s more like sitting in the audience, applauding.”

  She shouldn’t have said that much. He clearly caught the tremor in her voice and now studied her with that discerning eye that seemed to lay her open.

  “I know you have the vision and the sensibility—what got in the way?”

  And there he cut to the heart of it. What got in the way?

  She shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Not all of us have the talent to make our visions real. My stuff is…uninspired.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Pretty much everyone!” She tried to laugh it into a joke. All those teachers, the juries, her own mother. The same look on their faces. That sympathetic regret, the comforting phrases that somehow were worse than the dismissals by more brusque people. “But they didn’t need to. I could see it for myself.”

  “I’m sure you practiced like crazy, knowing you.”

  Oh, she had. All those hours with the watercolors, until her eyes burned and refused to focus, until she entirely lost the vision in the swarming headaches. Until her mother gently begged her to stop, to turn her ambitions to something close to it. Something she had talent for. Only she was failing at the gallery too.

  “Some people are kings, some are kingmakers.” She smiled at him, consciously willing away the tears that threatened. “And I think I’m cooked.”

  “Had enough, have you?”

  Somehow she knew he wasn’t talking about the hot tub.

  “Hang on.” He levered himself out of the tub, water sheeting down his strong body, black hair running dark rivers over the defined muscles. In a moment he was back with a couple of towels. He held one open for her. “Milady.”

  She climbed out and he wrapped the towel around her like a blanket. Stepping away, he used his to vigorously dry himself, brisk and full of fierce energy.

  “Where did these come from?”

  He grinned at her. “Saddlebags.”

  Of course. She’d seen him pull the portfolio out of the black leather cases strapped to the bike that first day. He pulled on his jeans and she scrambled to catch up.

  “That first day you came to Chalkstone—you were wearing motorcycle pants too.”

  “Chaps.”

  “Yes. But you didn’t wear them today.”

  He yanked his shirt on and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Those are more for highway rid
ing. Or when it’s cooler than tonight. Why?”

  An embarrassed blush made her cheeks heat, so she scrubbed at her face with the towel. “Just wondered.”

  “I’ll wear ’em for you, if you want. Maybe with nothing else?”

  The image stole her breath. How he’d so accurately gauged her interest she had no idea. He pulled the towel gently out of her hands and tipped up her chin. “I saw you looking that first day. And you’re not the first woman to like how it looks.”

  Her face burned. “I apologize. I don’t normally…”

  “Stare at a guy’s package? No worries, princess. Made me give you a second look.” His gaze lingered on her lips, but he didn’t kiss her. Keeping to their truce. “Ready to go?”

  They rode back through the purple evening. Relaxed, sleepy, emptied out, this time she gave in more, feeling the heat of Steel’s body under her hands and between her thighs, the throb of the bike against her rousing tissues. Picturing him in those black leather chaps and nothing else, his cock standing erect, had her wet again, aching to be filled with it. So much had happened since this morning’s drive with Brandon. Feeling daring and aroused and, with a sense of bookending this extraordinary day, she slid a hand down from his belly and cupped his crotch.

  His cock leaped under her touch in a most gratifying way. He ratcheted down the speed immediately and turned into a shadowed park lit only by moonlight. Delighted with the power, she pressed harder, stroking him. He rocked his hips in enthusiastic response, pulled over by a picnic table and yanked off his helmet.

  “What are you offering, princess? I told you—anything you ask for.”

  “The picnic table,” she whispered, pulling off her own helmet and climbing off the bike, the illicit rush heating her more, making her hurry. “If it’s safe here.”

  “You’re safe from anything but me.” Despite the lurid promise, he dug out one of the towels and handed it to her. “Don’t want splinters in your pretty skin.”

  She spread the towel on the end of the table and sat down, reaching for a boot.

  “Just pull your jeans and panties down.”

  She frowned at him. But she wanted him from the front this time. He chuckled at her. “Don’t worry—I can get in there. Easier to get dressed if someone comes along. But it’s your call.”

  Well, the idea of getting dressed easily again appealed. She unbuttoned the jeans and pushed them down to her ankles, then sat on the table again.

  “Oh yeah, baby.” Steel’s gaze took her in. “Just like that. You gleam in the moonlight—did you know that?” He stood in front of her and stroked roughened hands up her white naked thighs. “A moon goddess.”

  She shivered, restless, wanting, and he chuckled, handing her the condom package. “You want to do the honors?”

  He undid his jeans, pushing them down his hips so his cock sprang free. Biting her lip, she tore the foil wrapper and rolled the condom over the weeping head, stroking her hands up and down his length. He wrapped his hands around her ponytail and tugged. She looked up and his mouth descended on hers, avid and seeking. With a moan she let go of his cock and clung to his shoulders as he pushed her back onto the table.

  With a last smoldering kiss, he stepped back and raised her ankles, bracketed together by her jeans. He pushed them back toward her bottom and whispered for her to spread her knees wide. Reaching underneath, he dipped his fingers into her and she whimpered.

  “So hot for me, my little minx. You sure?” He stroked a finger around her vulva, stretching and stimulating. “Not too sore?”

  “No.” She gasped. “I want it.”

  “Good. Me too.”

  In a neat twist, he ducked under, came up through the space and plunged into her.

  She cried out, back arching and Steel pushed her T-shirt up, licking and biting at her nipples through the thin bra. Digging her fingers into his still damp curls, she urged him up to kiss her. He obliged, gentler now, stroking in and out of her in a languid rhythm. She rocked with it, clinging to him, while the moon sailed high above.

  The orgasm shivered through her, melting and sweet, even as he shuddered in her arms, pressing hot kisses to the side of her neck, his welcome weight pressing her down.

  That unexpected feeling of romance rolled through her, and this time she let it, too sated to resist. Even when he slipped out of her and they cleaned up and assembled their clothes, a quiet companionship shimmered in the air between them. Steel started to hand her the helmet, paused and slipped a hand around the back of her neck, kissing her with a tender sweetness that stole her breath.

  When they arrived back home, she nearly swayed on her feet from sleepiness, digging her keys from her pocket.

  “Gallery is closed tomorrow?” Steel asked, unstrapping the saddlebags from the bike.

  “Yes. But I have errands to run. Lunch with a friend.”

  He nodded. “I’m going to work for a while tonight, so I’ll sleep in, likely. Will you come see me before you go to lunch?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll have time.”

  “Give me half an hour before you have to leave.”

  “Well…”

  “I’ll set a timer.”

  “We’ll see.”

  But she knew she would. Surely he couldn’t do that much to her in only thirty minutes.

  Chapter Seven

  Unaccountably nervous, Althea opened the door to Steel’s domain, calling out a soft hello. He might be asleep still, after all. Though she hadn’t heard a thing last night, tumbling into a cool and dreamless sleep.

  “Come on down!”

  She held onto the rail and clicked down the unsteady stairs to find a grinning Steel waiting for her, swathed in his welding coveralls, goggles perched on his head.

  “I’m glad you stopped by—I need you.”

  “I can’t stay long,” she reminded him, scanning the room, wondering what he had in mind. He held up a digital timer, ostentatiously holding his thumb over the start button, the display showing thirty minutes.

  “Yes?”

  Her heart fluttering, she nodded, nipples peaking and sex dampening, as if he’d clicked a button in her too.

  “Good. See where I put this tape on the floor? From now on, you stop here and dress how I ask you to. There’s some hooks on the wall to hang your things. Set your bag down. Take off your hat, suit jacket, shoes, hose and panties. Tell me when you’re ready.” He walked away from her, leaving her to obey.

  With trembling fingers, she did. The red tape formed a three-foot square at the bottom of the steps. A little cage. She hung up the celadon silk suit jacket, along with the other things, including her already wet panties.

  “I’m ready,” she called, eyes flicking to the timer. Twenty-seven minutes left. Perhaps she should have stalled.

  “Come here then,” he tossed over his shoulder. He was messing with the satyr, which appeared to have another set of arms now. She waited at his elbow, not quite able to see what he was doing. Another few minutes passed. Abruptly he spun on her with a pleased grin and kissed her on the nose. “You look so pretty today. Pull up your skirt around your waist.”

  Heat gushed between her legs and she obeyed, sliding the pencil skirt up, ruching the silk. It would likely wrinkle hopelessly. She didn’t care. Steel’s gaze fastened on her nakedness and he slipped two fingers between her legs. “How’s my pussy this morning?”

  “Fine,” she stammered.

  “More than fine,” he murmured, tweaking her clit so she gasped. “Hot and slick and begging for attention. But you have lunch. And errands.”

  She nodded, already coming apart in his hands.

  “We’d best get to it then. Kneel down.”

  She knelt then followed his instructions to crawl over to the satyr, acutely aware of her naked bottom, how she must
look. To her shock, the statue now sported a rampant prick, worthy of the most virile satyr, gleaming with some kind of oil so it shone in the focused lights.

  “Put your mouth around it.”

  She hesitated, eyeing the thing. Steel smacked her bottom with a stinging slap. She squealed.

  “Do it, princess. You haven’t given me time to coddle you. It’s clean. Put your pretty lips around his cock.”

  Feeling awkward, she obeyed, closing her mouth around the metal head. The oil tasted of cinnamon and cloves, tingling her mouth. He smoothed the hair back from her face and draped it over her shoulder away from him, for a clearer view. Muttering to himself, he had her back off while he adjusted the phallus. It seemed to be a removable piece, with different angles that could be set.

  “Okay, again. And wrap your arms around his waist.” He disappeared around the back of the statue and tugged on her wrists, peering at her over the thing’s shoulder. “Can you take it deeper than that?”

  With her lips stretched around the metal cock, she couldn’t speak, so she shook her head, feeling her helplessness and vulnerability. It shook her, both his nonchalant treatment of her and the press of the satyr’s phallus in her mouth. Its still rough-formed face leered down at her, a tongue lolling out as if to lick her up.

  “Hold that then.” Quickly, he took measurements of her wrists and arms, noting them down. He measured the length of metal cock not in her mouth, then the rest of her position in relation to the sculpture, his hand casually passing over her bottom and through her slick folds, setting fire to her anew. He came back around to examine her mouth. “You sure that’s all you can take? Try just another inch.”

  She tried and gagged.

  “Okay stop. You can kneel up. Need some water?”

  She nodded, wiping her mouth, her sex dripping wet. The clock showed ten minutes left. Steel cracked the top on a bottle of water from the red and white cooler and handed it to her. She drank it, still kneeling at his feet with her skirt around her waist and her white shirt primly buttoned.