Cookies for Courting (6 page)

“Will do.” Marshall laughed as he went to go get changed.

The museum where the fundraiser was being held was already beginning to fill up when Marshall arrived. Maybe they hadn’t heard about the virtues of being fashionably late. The lower level of the building had been turned into a show for local artists whose work would be auctioned off in a silent auction. A live auction would follow later with additional things donated to raise money.

Marshall had donated a lunch with him to discuss a winner’s investment portfolio. He scanned the crowd to see who was attending, and his gaze came to a stuttering halt when he saw a familiar blond head.

“Pace?”

The artist turned around, his warm brown eyes lit up with
recognition. “Marshall.”

He held out his hand, and Marshall shook it as if in a trance. Dressed in jeans and bits of paint, the artist was gorgeous; in a suit, he took Marshall’s breath away. “You look good,” he told Pace.

“Thank you. You look nice yourself.” Pace grinned.

Pace tugged, and Marshall realized he’d been holding on to the artist’s hand for too long. “Oh sorry. I was just surprised to see you here.”

“Pace is quite active in the charitable community,” a female said.

“And you are?” Surely, Pace wasn’t there with a date. Marshall had a twinge of jealousy over the slim blonde in the siren red dress.

“My mother,” Pace said.

The blonde giggled. “Stepmother. I’m Sharla Barlow. I’m married to Pace’s dad, who couldn’t make it here tonight.”

“Nice to meet you.” Marshall shook her hand before returning his attention to Pace. “Do you have a piece here?”

“Oh yes, our Pace is super talented,” Sharla gushed.

Pace rolled his eyes, and Marshall had to hold back a laugh.

“Which one is his?” There were temporary walls set up everywhere to display art. Marshall skimmed them all, but his gaze came to a halt at one painted in oils. The colors and vibrancy called out to him.

“That one,” Pace said, pointing out the very painting Marshall was admiring.

Marshall grinned. “Excellent. You two have fun. I’ll see you later.”

He had a painting to buy.

The numbers were rising on the piece of paper on the table by the painting. Marshall was reaching for the clipboard to place his bid when someone else snatched it off the table.

“Uh-uh, this one is mine. It’s going in my collection.” The kid couldn’t be more than twenty-five, but he had the look of someone used to getting his way. His Russian accent would’ve been sexy if Marshall wasn’t already infatuated with a certain artist.

“You have a collection?” Marshall squelched his spurt of envy.

“I’ve known Pace since we were children. He always makes me pay for these because he says I don’t give enough to charity.” The kid scowled as he jotted an amount down on the sheet.

“So he thinks you’re cheap?”

The Russian shrugged. “He just likes to get me to give. He says I need to spend more money on charity than I do on clubbing. He’s an idiot, but I love him. I’m Sandlova Aliev.”

“Marshall Hunter.” He offered his hand to shake, ending the touch as fast as politely possible. It almost felt as if Sandlova had erased the impression of Pace’s hand against his skin.

“Ah, the investment guy.”

“Yes. I believe your father is one of my clients.” Sandlova’s father had even more money than Marshall and was one of their biggest accounts. That didn’t mean Marshall would let his punk kid have his painting.

“How do you know Pace?” Sandlova asked.

“What makes you think I know him?”

Sandlova smiled. “Because he hasn’t stopped staring at you and I know he doesn’t find me that fascinating.”

Marshall turned and saw Pace watching them. The artist quickly gave more attention to his glass of champagne and his stepmother’s chatter.

“He’s going to do a mural for my niece.”

“So you’re the one. He brushed me off to update his portfolio.”

Marshall smiled at the memory of Alice’s excitement. “My niece just lost her mother. I’m hoping Pace’s mural will help her feel more welcome in my home.”

“That’s an admirable goal, but don’t use Pace to make you feel better. He deserves more than that. Be good to him, or I will crush you.” Sandlova patted Marshall on the back with a friendly smile before sauntering away.

Marshall picked up the clipboard and wrote a higher number beneath Sandlova’s. He would win the painting.

Asshole.

“Problem?” Pace’s amused voice pulled Marshall out of his anger.

“No.” Marshall turned around. “Did I mention how great you look?”

Pace laughed. “Yes, you did. Sharla has decided to spend the rest of the night with her friends.” He nodded to where the blonde was standing with what looked like a cluster of trophy wives. “I thought I’d see if you wanted to be my date.”

Temptation whispered through Marshall. “I’d love to.”

“Great.” Pace smiled.

“After you.” Marshall indicated the stairs where people were beginning to filter up toward the live auction.

P
ACE
COULDN
’
T
believe he was doing this. He’d never used the “come and see my paintings” line before. Marshall stood behind Pace, blocking him from the evening chill. Marshall had that feel about him, as if he would protect Pace from the world with his big, strong shoulders. Wiggling the key in the lock, Pace waited until he heard the click before turning the knob.

“This is it.” Pace stepped back to let Marshall inside first.

“Oh wow.” Marshall’s steps slowed the farther he got inside the workshop.

“It’s a bit to take in. I think only a bulldozer will clear out the clutter.”

Marshall spun around as Pace closed the door behind him. “You are brilliant.”

“Have an artist kink, do you?”

“I didn’t think so until now.” Marshall hooked a finger through Pace’s tie and pulled him closer. “Maybe I just have a kink about you.”

Need surged through Pace’s body. He allowed Marshall to pull him closer. His breath hitched as their bodies connected. Insane attraction zapped through him. He moaned and clutched Marshall’s lapels, yanking him closer.

“Kiss me,” Pace demanded. It was all kinds of a bad idea to get involved with a guy who epitomized everything he didn’t agree with, but he couldn’t resist.

Marshall didn’t waste time on words. He wrapped his arms around Pace and kissed him. Pace had been ready for a hard, punishing embrace. Instead, Marshall held him close and brushed Pace’s lips with his own in a soft touch, as if Pace was something precious and needed to be cherished.

After sending Pace’s senses into a tailspin, Marshall stepped back and looked around Pace’s studio.

“This is amazing. I mean I knew you were talented, especially after the museum, but not like this.” Marshall waved a hand to encompass all of Pace’s art.

Pace blushed, a slow spread of red forming on his cheeks. “I don’t usually let people inside my studio. I get nervous when people see my work before it’s done.”

“Why? If I had a fraction of your talent, I would want to show everyone.” Marshall stood and waited for Pace’s response as if he were truly interested in the answer.

Pace shrugged. “Painting is an expression of my soul. I don’t trust everyone to take care of it.”

“I can understand that, sort of like showing a complete stranger your diary and asking them not to share your secrets. But you have to know how talented you are,” Marshall insisted.

“People have differing opinions about art. What seems like talent to one person is crap to another. I have a fragile ego.” Pace shrugged self-consciously and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

Marshall kissed him again, pressing his lips harder against Pace’s before sliding his tongue inside to take a taste. Pace’s body awakened at Marshall’s hard grip on his ass. The executive showed no restraint in pulling Pace as close as possible. He finished the embrace with a sharp nip to Pace’s bottom lip, which had Pace moaning.

Pace wanted to plaster Marshall against his canvases and kiss him stupid.

“I want you,” Pace admitted. “But I’m going to be working for you.”

He wanted to toss out their contract and move straight to fucking on his bed.

Marshall stepped back. “I promise not to make any moves on you while you’re in my employ, but technically, I haven’t signed the contract yet.”

“Excellent.” Pace grinned. “I should get it out of my system before I begin working.”

Marshall melted against him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“I’d like to go on record that I’m certain this is a bad idea.”

“Duly noted.” Pace grinned. “But unless you push me away, I’m going to have sex with you.”

Marshall gave Pace’s statement a second of consideration. “I’m all yours.”

“Excellent,” Pace said, his voice dropping deeper as lust took over.

Between gasps and sighs, Marshall lost his suit jacket, his tie, his dress shirt, and the T-shirt he wore underneath. Pace hummed happily at the body revealed.

“Someone makes time for the gym.”

Marshall grinned. “Let’s see what you have under there.”

“I’m not all hard muscles like you,” Pace warned. He ran, but he never went to the gym. Working out bored him. Hell, he barely remembered to eat some days.

“Good. I don’t want another me.”

Before Pace had time to become self-conscious, Marshall stripped Pace down until he was naked on top. They both stood there, bare-chested, running their fingers over each other.

Pace couldn’t stop touching. The smooth skin and hard muscles entranced his fingertips. Being a tactile person, he traced each line, relishing the contact of warm skin beneath his hands.

Pace groaned. “I thought you looked good in a suit. You look better out of one.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He licked a line up Marshall’s neck, savoring the flavor of warm male flesh.

“Oh fuck.” Marshall grabbed Pace and held him close. He took control and kissed Pace again.

Pace relaxed against Marshall, letting the taller man have his way. He loved a commanding partner, a man who knew what he wanted and pushed all Pace’s needy buttons.

He slid his fingers along Marshall’s waistband, slipping them inside.

“Where’s your bed?” Marshall’s lips were wet from Pace’s tongue.

Fuck, he’s sexy. Wait, he asked me something.

“Bed? Oh, my bed is down the street in my apartment. I have a futon here.”

“That’ll do. I don’t want you putting clothes back on. You might change your mind.”

Pace gave a choked laugh. “I don’t see that happening.”

“Futon?”

“In the corner.” He pointed to the piece of furniture piled high with canvases and paints.

“Great.”

“Give me a sec.” Pace walked over to the futon and swept it clear with a few well-placed swipes of his hand. “Good enough,” he declared before pushing the furniture until it lay down flat.

Marshall didn’t wait for an invitation. He walked over to join Pace; his erection hadn’t gone down a bit.

“I want some of that.” He dropped to his knees and helped Marshall out of his shoes, socks, and pants. With his heart racing, Pace pulled down Marshall’s underwear.

“It’s all yours,” Marshall said in his rich baritone that sent shivers racing down Pace’s spine.

Pace wrapped his right hand around Marshall’s erection. Marshall had the equipment to please any size queen. Pace lapped at the tip, savoring the taste. “Oh fuck, you taste good.”

He swallowed Marshall down, taking as much as possible into his throat. Marshall gripped Pace’s hair. He let Marshall control his motions and braced his left hand against Marshall’s thigh.

“Fuck, you need to stop that, or we’re not going to be able to do anything else.”

Pace reluctantly gave up his prize. After Marshall released his hair, he stood up, then kicked off his shoes.

“No, let me,” Marshall said when Pace reached for his belt. “I want to unwrap my present.”

Pace laughed. “I’m a present now?”

Marshall smiled. “Yes. I like surprises.”

“Good to know.”

Pace lifted his hand and let Marshall have his way. He wasn’t going to object if the sexy man wanted to strip him naked. Before long, they were lying on the futon, exploring each other with hands and mouths.

He lapped at Marshall’s nipple, pulling a hiss from the larger man.

“My nipples are sensitive,” Marshall warned.

“Oh good.” Pace bit Marshall’s left nipple.

“Fuck!” Marshall arched into Pace’s mouth.

Pace pinched the right one while he sucked on the left. Marshall held him tight. He would have bruises tomorrow if he was lucky.

Marshall pulled Pace away. “I don’t know where this will go.”

Pace’s mouth dropped open. “Why does it need to go anywhere? There’s nothing wrong with a bout of hot sex.”

“True.”

Was it his imagination or did Marshall look disappointed?

“Just relax.” Pace pressed his mouth against Marshall’s and gave himself over to passion. He transformed from a being of thought and intellect to a beast of pure sensation. He needed. More.

Marshall moaned against Pace’s lips. “You taste good.”

“Peppermint,” Pace said, smiling. He’d grabbed a mint at the museum in case he got lucky. From Marshall’s expression all night, he’d been hoping to find his way into the hot executive’s bed.

Marshall kissed him again. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“I’m not that special. Maybe you don’t get out enough.”

Marshall rolled Pace until they were on their sides, a handy trick since there wasn’t a lot of room. The futon could’ve been bigger or even comfortable, but Pace didn’t care. When Marshall cradled him close and ran his fingers all across Pace’s skin, he couldn’t think of anything but getting Marshall’s touch.

“More,” he whispered. He knew it was nonsense, but speaking louder seemed wrong, as if he would break the spell of lust surrounding them.

“More what?” Marshall asked, sliding his fingers through Pace’s hair.