Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance) (24 page)

“Are you okay?”

She looked up into Mark’s concerned eyes then back over at Ray and Melody. Their heads were close as Mel propped a pillow, then kissed him on the top of his brow.

Sam blinked away threatening tears. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine.”

• • •

Exhaustion was coming down on Mark hard as they left Melody’s house late that night to go and check into a hotel. After seeing Ray settled, Melody, in her fantastically pushy way, had insisted they follow her to her place just on the outskirts of town for a quick bite. Well, that quick bite turned out to include her kids, her kids’ friends, her husband, her mother in law, and Mel’s girlfriends who all chattered just as fast and furious as Mel did. The quick bite turned out to be an all out late night bar-b-que.

“Yeesh, now I see why Ray’s heart was about to give out,” Mark whispered to Samara, looking around at the yard full of people in the back of Melody’s Spanish ranch style home.

Sam gave him a small smile as she looked around at the wide array of people all smiling and happy, working on making lists on how to help out once Ray came home in a few days. “I think it’s great. Your friend is lucky. He has a strong family behind him.”

Mark was quiet and gave a nod as he took a pull of his beer. Finally he spoke. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. He never struck me as the type, but he does seem happy.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he inhaled, letting the lavender invade his senses. “That he does.” Sam let out a small yawn and leaned into him further.

He tapped her denim clad thigh. “Alright, that’s it. Time to get going. I’m pulling the plug on this party.” She looked up at him with a pout to her bottom lip and he resisted the urge to lean in and give it a tug. “None of that, let’s go.”

They said their goodbyes with the promise to come back after visiting with Ray the next day. In his haste on the way to the hotel, Mark agreed to let Sam make the reservations. Since they were last minute she said she could pull some strings and get them a spot at a friend’s place. He protested, telling her he hated using her name in that way, but she wouldn’t hear of it and made them anyway. It bristled at him but he acquiesced and insisted on paying the bill. Honestly, he was just happy to have her by his side as he made the trip.

They hopped into their rental convertible to make their way back to town. Both were silent for most of the ride and Mark would have sworn Sam was asleep if not for the gentle rubbing of her hand along his forearm every once in a while. Suddenly a couple of bikers on souped up racing bikes went whizzing by them on Sam’s right, obviously dragging. Sam jumped, startled as Mark curved left to get out of their way.

“What the hell!”

He rubbed her thigh, trying to soothe her back to their quiet place.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just a couple of wild kids. I’m sorry I had to swerve like that.”

“It’s alright,” she said, glaring ahead at the riders’ back lights, the tension radiating off of her. “It wasn’t your fault.” He reached for her swirling hair and smoothed it.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to get you to the hotel and tucked in safe and sound.”

Mark frowned, trying to understand her sudden intense tension and anxiety. He took her hand as he fought a losing battle with keeping his tough demeanor in place and just wanting to hold her. Keeping one hand on the wheel, his other hand firmly in Sam’s, he rubbed her hand until he felt the tension dissipate. Finally, she let out a soothed breath. With the mountains at his back and the desert on either side, for a moment it felt like heaven was at hand and he knew it could get no better.

Running his thumb against her soft skin he picked up her hand and put her palm to his lips. Not far ahead was Vegas.

“Pull over.” Her soft but husky voice surprised him in the darkness.

“Huh, sweetheart?”

“I said pull over.”

“But we’re in the middle of the road.” He glanced in his mirrors and saw that there were no cars close by, but it was dark and he didn’t really want to pull over in the middle of nowhere. He stole a quick glance at Samara then brought his eyes back to the road. “Are you alright?”

“I love you. Now pull over.”

Tires screeching, Mark pulled over, hitting the breaks. “Come again?” He shot her dead serious eyes, afraid to take a breath.

Sam looked at him, her eyes all soft, glistening with tears that threatened to fall. “I love you and I wanted you to know that. I think I’ve been in love with you now for quite a long time.”

Mark went to swallow and found that he couldn’t, that it was caught in his throat. He tried again, barely able to get it down for the intense swelling feeling taking over his chest. Was this what Ray’s heart attack felt like? Maybe it was the beginning? Shit, he should have snagged some aspirin while he was at the hospital. But what good would that do if he couldn’t even swallow? He stared at her big, brown, liquid eyes.

“Mark.” He felt Sam’s hand reach up, and those capable fingers wiped away his tears. Oh damn. He was crying. Shit.

Finally, he swallowed. “Well. I guess you know then. That I love you too.”

Sam’s lips quirked. “So we’re in Vegas, the marriage capital of the world. How’d you like to make it official and we become Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor?”

Mark’s mouth dropped open as he looked at Samara with open shock. This time he swallowed to keep from choking. She must have lost it or maybe it was a cruel joke or maybe she was just overtired. Either way it wasn’t cool. But then she leaned in, took his face in her hands, and brushed those soft lips across his own, their breaths mingling, pulses slowing, hearts coming into sync, and finally she pulled back and looked up at him from under upturned lashes and smiled wide. It was then that the sky exploded over the mountains and his world returned to color once again.

So maybe it wasn’t the ceremony of her dreams, but then again she hadn’t been one to dream of a wedding ceremony since she was sixteen years old and not yet jaded. But that didn’t matter to Sam because in the end it all turned out perfect. Yes, she had flutters of anxiety, who wouldn’t? Yes, she could just imagine her father’s reaction when he found out that she got married, to a biker no less, and someone not of his choosing, but then again, wasn’t rebellion what he expected of her? Her only real twinge came when she thought of her mother and how hurt she would be at not being there. But that was okay. She’d make up for it by letting her plan whatever fabulous wedding reception she wanted. Invite all of New York. She didn’t care.

All she wanted, all she needed, was Mark and his warm assuredness by her side and nothing else.

But in the end it turned out to be her reassuring him as they parked and walked hand in hand to the small white wedding chapel in the desert. She tugged at his arm and he turned, eyes wide with a type of fear she had never seen. “Hey there, Mr. Thorn. Don’t tell me you’re ready to go running scared? My knight in shining armor doesn’t seem the runner type.”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and his eyes softened. “I just never want to hurt you.”

She smiled as she felt her heart soften. “A long as you’re honest with me, I don’t think you can.”

With this his eyes closed and his mouth came down on hers as he pulled her to him in a long kiss and the door to the chapel opened.

• • •

“She’s not for you.”

Though he tried with all his might to focus on the words of the officiate, it was the words of Sam’s father that kept echoing through his ears as the wedding vows were said. He was so torn. Looking at her, so beautiful, and there he was — a fraud. He should stop this now, before it went any further, and tell her everything. Tell her who he was. Remind her of that first meeting when they were kids. Tell her that he’s loved her all his life and would until the day he died.

“She’s not for you.”
Still the words spun in his head and the fear clogged his throat. What if she rejected him? Looked at him with the same horror as her father did — like something to taint her. Dirty hands to sully her.

He looked down, seeing her dress, so white and pure and all he could think of were those pretty white socks from so long ago. Yes, she very well might reject him. And then what would he have left but yet another scar and a memory to hold on to.

The officiate was droning on but Mark couldn’t hear a word as the room started to close in. But then Samara squeezed his hand and he looked up, right into those liquid eyes, and his heart took over, spurring his mind to kick his mouth in gear and before he could say anything else the words “I do” flowed from his lips.

And then she smiled.

Mark willed his hands to stop shaking as he placed the simple band on her finger and looked into Samara’s hopeful eyes, not able to hide his own blooming enthusiasm. His breath hitched. She looked like a Grecian goddess in a simple one shoulder white gown that she bought off the rack of dresses the chapel had. The chapel’s patron had picked out for him a black suit with a long tie as it was the only one he had on the rack that fit him across the shoulders. “When we get back to New York, I’m buying you the ring of your dreams,” he said.

“I don’t care about that,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, lifting her hand to his and bringing the circle to his lips.

She then recited her vows and brought his hand to her lips. Warmth radiated from his fingertips clear through his body. He leaned in to kiss her.

“Ahem. I don’t believe I’ve said my part yet.”

“Well then I think you’d better get on with it, man,” Mark countered.

The officiate, an ordained minister and part time Wayne Newton gave them a hearty wink as his wife, a petite bleached blond in her sixties, not quite making it to Marilyn, giggled from the side. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Samara gave him a heated stare that rocked him to the soles of his feet as she licked her perfect lips. “I guess you’d better get on it, Mr. Thorn.”

He couldn’t help in that moment but to grin wide. “Alrighty. But just remember, you were the one that asked for this, Mrs. Thorn.”

Leaving the chapel, all Mark could do was thank the fact that they now lived in a perpetual state of litigation where even the little chapel in the desert had readymade prenups included with their deluxe wedding packages. He knew it was all but guaranteed that the shit would hit the fan when the world found out about him marrying the Leighton Princess, and Howard Leighton would have his balls on a silver platter. So he was glad to at least have a prenup on his side saying he wasn’t taking her for her money. Though Samara said she didn’t care either way, he still had a feeling she did and he for damned sure would at least have it in his back pocket to show a small stitch of pride to Leighton.

• • •

Mark was lost in thought as he looked out the hotel window, taking in the view of Vegas laid out before him from the opulent suite that Samara had reserved for them. Over time he had grown used to some of the finer things, but nothing like this. This was over the top and honestly, it gave him pause. This extra luxurious thread count, anytime day or night turn down service, bedroom plus bath, plus extra two baths, for good measure was beyond his comprehension. But Sam, she seemed to take it all in stride and as commonplace. The same way she took the bar-b-que at Mel’s in stride. But how long could that last? When would their differences become glaringly apparent? He raked his hand across his head. Would it be when she really found out about his humble beginnings and saw him for what he really was? Could she reconcile with that and stay in it for the long haul? He didn’t know, and the fear that gripped him because of it was worse than anything he’d ever felt.

Mark swallowed and sat up from where he was lounging back on the edge of the bed as Samara emerged from the shower. The backlight of the bathroom lit her shapely body which was barely contained by the towel; all that combined with the added steam wafting around had him instantly at full attention. Mark heard himself as a low rumble of a breath escaped his throat and Samara smiled sheepishly, looking down at the towel and them back up at him. “Sorry it’s not much in the way of a wedding trousseau. I should have stopped downstairs and picked something up.”

Mark got up and walked over to her, telling himself in the few steps along the way to take it slow. She grinned, taking in his nakedness and already evident readiness for her. Mark reached her and wrapped his arms around her warm body. “And that, Mrs. Thorn, would have been a terrible waste of money. There is no way, in the mood I’m in, that I’d let you keep it on long enough to be worth the cost.” He leaned in and inhaled, taking in that heady, mesmerizing scent of her and groaned. Reaching his hands up, he took both ends of the towel and pulled them apart. “God, you are gorgeous.”

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along the sweet expanse of her regal neck and gave a silent thanks to the gods for this moment, for this queen offering herself up before him. Dropping the towel he lifted her and deposited her gently on the bed. It was then that Mark made a silent vow that as long as he had her to love; he would never spend a moment feeling sorry for himself again.

“I will always love you.” Her voice was all the assurance his soul needed as his lips came down on hers.

Closing his eyes against her questioning ones, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “And I’ve loved you forever.”

Kisses like wine and honey, Mark was lost as he intertwined his tongue with hers, wanting to stay there forever, but still wanting more he forced his lips away, starting his journey down her body. Pausing at her perfect globes, he filled his mouth with one nipple then another. Their peaks reached the roof of his mouth and her moans were music to his ears. But still he wanted more and her greedy hands pushing his head further told him she did too.

Only too happy to oblige, Mark leaned down, filling his hands with her thighs. Inhaling her scent, he leaned in, spreading her apart, taking in the beautiful shimmer of her lovely essence. He began to stroke her slowly with his fingers, satisfied with the husky moan and arch of her back. With a lick of his lips, he leaned down and replaced his fingers with his tongue, feasting until he felt her walls quiver around him, her sighs turn to heavy pants, and his name starting to run on repeat. He was so hard he thought he would explode. Scooping her backside in both hands he pulled her to him and spread her wide. He could wait no further. With one hand he grabbed himself and paused at her entrance. Looking down at the two of them together about to become one once again, this time as husband and wife. Mark looked up and there she was. Looking at him. Those eyes. Liquid, wide and open, exposed. Mark sucked in a breath, swallowed and plunged in.