L.A. Fire (17 page)

  “Now, let’s eat,” he said, taking
my hand and leading me to the kitchen. The countertops were made of Italian
marble, and the stove and all of the appliances were the best money can
buy.  A Deco rosewood table sat off to the side, right in front of sliding
glass panel doors that led to a private outdoor courtyard.

  I raised an eyebrow at Julian,
and gestured to the stove. “Fancy digs, Mr. McGregor. But do you get any use
out of all this splendor? Or do you just use the elements to boil your eggs in
the morning?”

  The corner of Julian’s mouth
quirked up, and his eyes glimmered with amusement. “Actually, Ms. Stevens, I’m
quite a good cook.”

  “You cook?” I asked, sounding
astonished.

  “Why does that surprise you?” he
asked.

  “I wouldn’t think you’d have the
time. And you seem to eat out a lot.”

  “I make time for the things I
enjoy,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have an old friend who went to chef’s
school in Paris. He taught me how to make a mean soufflé, and an exquisite
omelette. Among other things.” His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he
studied me.  “Another benefit to you sticking around ‘til the morning, Ms.
Stevens. Now let’s eat,” he said, grabbing two plates from a set of 19
^th
century French cabinets, and laying them out on the table.

  As we settled down to eat, I
noticed another Charline von Heyl on the wall, the same artist he had up in his
office. “Pink Vendetta,” I said, pointing to the painting.

  He looked up at me mid-bite, his
fork suspended in the air. “Quite right,” he said, sounding slightly taken
aback.

  “You must really enjoy von Heyl’s
work. I noticed you also had ‘Lacuno Lotto’ up in your office.”

  Julian’s eyes glinted with a
strange light. “Yes, you mentioned that earlier. I like how her work is so
dynamic and darkly, almost ferociously sensual, even while, or I should say,
especially while, she uses bright, happy colors and festive themes.”

  “Ferociously sensual,” I
repeated, giving him a long, evaluative look. “I’m starting to detect a
psychological pattern, Mr. McGregor. Or should I say, I preoccupation.”

  Julian got a sly glimmer in eye,
and did his best imitation of a deeply worried look. “Oh dear, Dr. Stevens.
This preoccupation of mine. How do you intend to treat it?”

  “Well of course, you’ll need to
undergo hours and hours of therapy. Your condition is quite serious.”

  Julian’s expression became
wicked. “Yes, you’re quite right, Dr. Stevens. I’ll be needing hours and hours
of sex therapy from you to rid me of this . . . preoccupation. I suggest our
sessions be lengthy and intensive, and that we explore all of my sexual
fantasies and preoccupations fully.”

  I felt my cheeks flush slightly,
and took another bite of my Coq au vin. “Well played, Mr. McGregor. Well
played.”

  “The funny thing is, you remind
me of ‘Lacuna Lotto.’”

  I looked at him, confused,
waiting for him to explain himself.

   “The woman’s lips in the
painting. Her dark, enigmatic smile. The first time you smirked at me, the
first time I saw your lower lip quiver, it somehow reminded me of ‘Lacuna
Lotto.’”

  I chuckled slightly. “You think
I’m dark and enigmatic?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “but also light
and festive at the same time.” Then his eyes darkened with desire and he said,
“In other words, you’re my fantasy girl. You push all of my buttons. You’re the
whole package.”

  Feeling self-conscious, I pushed
around the food on my plate, separating the chicken from the onions and the
carrots. When I looked up, Julian was still staring at me. He cocked his head
to the side and said, “It’s funny how you divide up your food.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and dug
my fork into a carrot. “I’ve done it since I was a kid.”

  “I noticed you doing it at lunch
the other day as well. Dividing up all the parts of your cobb salad.”

  I gave him a funny look,
wondering where he was going with all of this. “I also noticed everything is
perfectly in its place on your desk at work.”

  I scowled at him slightly. “When
were you at my desk? I’ve never invited you over.”

  “I walk by there all the time,
Sarah. I wasn’t snooping. Well, maybe I had to peek my head in a bit,” he
added, sounding amused with himself.

  “So what’s your point?” I asked,
my words coming out sounding sharper than I intended.

  “You like to compartmentalize
things, don’t you? Carrots and chicken, separate. Paper clips and pens,
separate. Work and play, separate. Sex and love, separate.”

  “What’s wrong with having work
and play separate? Mixing the two gets messy.”

  “Yes,” he said, “but I’ve already
agreed to do my best to stay out of your hair at work. That’s not the part I’m
worried about.”

  “Then what are you worried
about?” I asked, though I already knew what he was going to say.

  “Sex and love, Sarah.”

  “I loved Rob,” I said. “And I had
sex with him.”

  “Yes, but I bet he didn’t blow
you away in bed. If you’d had love and passion with him, you would have been
running for the hills.”

  I felt myself tense up. Though
Julian was hitting a nerve, I put on my best skeptical face and stared him
down. “What are you trying to say, Julian?”

  He leaned forward and grabbed my
hand. “I’m saying you’re so scared of being utterly, completely consumed by
someone, and the way you defend yourself against that is by always keeping a
part of yourself out of reach. With Rob, you gave him your commitment and
devotion, but you didn’t let him sweep you off your feet.”

  I continued to stare him down,
but I could feel myself starting to tremble with fear.

  “I watched the video of your
so-called freak out closely, Sarah. You thought Rob was mocking you by laughing
when you lost it. I don’t think that’s what it was about. I think he was so
happy that you finally totally and truly lost it over him. He finally saw your
passion.”

  I sat back in my chair, totally
floored by what Julian was saying to me.

  “I overheard that guy at the bar
saying Rob wants you back. I bet it’s because he saw you were capable of
letting down your defenses.”

  I looked at Julian with a touch
of resentment, realizing he’d been standing behind me at the bar for a long
time before making his presence known. “I don’t want Rob back, so none of this
matters,” I said.

  Julian grabbed me by the wrist,
and I looked up at him sharply, surprised. “It does matter, Sarah. Because I
realized something else. You were able to finally show your passion to Rob,
because you knew it was over. He’d crossed the line, and you were done. It’s
easy for you to let go of your defenses when you know that right after you can
run.”

  I felt my lower lip start to
quiver again, and felt fear creep into my eyes. “Julian, you’re killing me
here,” I said. “I can’t take it,” I added getting up. “I can’t deal with this
level of scrutiny. It’s too much. Too much for one night. Too much for a
lifetime.”

  Julian got to his feet, took
three swift steps over to me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not
going to let you run, Sarah, do you understand?”

  I looked down, still trembling,
and avoiding his gaze. “I have to leave,” I said softly, and tried to pull
away.

  “So I’m right. I’ve gotten a
glimpse of your fire, a glimpse of your core, and now you have to run and
hide.”

  I felt tears spring to my eyes,
and tried to shove him away. “Let me go, Julian,” I said fiercely, struggling
in his grasp. He held me tightly as I thrashed in his arms, the tears rushing
down my cheeks. Still holding me firmly with one arm, he used his free thumb to
gently wipe away my tears.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’ve got
you. You can let it all out. I won’t drop you, Sarah. I won’t let you fall.”

  I felt another sob shudder
through me, and then I sunk against Julian’s chest, burying myself against him.
He stroked my back, and kissed my hair, and held me tight until I’d cried
myself out. Finally he swept me up into his arms, carried me to the living
room, and cradled me on his lap, his hand rubbing my back in soothing circles.

  I peered up at him, finally
realizing what he was offering. Not just sex. Not just commitment. But real
intimacy. Julian wanted me, the person I was at my core, and he wasn’t going to
settle for anything less. If this had any chance of working, I would have to
get over my need to hide. Get over my fear of falling without having anyone
there to catch me. He’d proven to me tonight that he thought about me deeply,
and  would continue to scrutinize me relentlessly, constantly trying to
figure out my wants, my needs, the basic things that made me tick. I’d never
met a man like him, and likely wouldn’t meet another like him in my lifetime.
He was brilliant, beautiful, special. And so devastatingly sexy I could hardly
stand it. And he’d given me the most earth shattering orgasm tonight that I’d
ever had. He was right. I was scared of falling head over heels, but everything
I’d learned about him so far told me he was worth taking the risk.   

  “Julian, I want to stay,” I said,
running my finger along his cheek. “I want to stay the whole night. I want to
sleep curled in your arms, and I want to wake up and see you beside me in the
morning.” He looked at me softly, and leaned in closer, kissing the tip of my
nose, and then brushing his lips against mine. He kissed me long and deeply,
our tongues gently exploring each other’s mouths. But then his kiss got
rougher, more insistent. I kissed him back more urgently too. Then his hands
were in my hair, cupping my face, sliding up my dress.

  He pulled back for a moment and
said, “I want to see you completely naked.” I suddenly felt self-conscious
again and hesitated. He pulled me to my feet, and hitched my dress over my
head. My ripped panties were still up along the roadside in the canyons, so I
was standing there fully naked, except for my black lace bra. Julian quickly
unclipped it, and it fell to the floor with my dress. Then he stood back, and
let his eyes rake over every inch of me. When his eyes came to rest on my
breasts, I felt my nipples harden in response. “You’re such a feast for the
eyes,” he said, his gaze hungry. “I could stand here all night just staring at
your amazing curves.” His voice when he spoke was husky, and the sound of it,
and the way he was staring at me, made me giddy with desire.

  I swiftly bridged the distance
between us, and started frantically pulling off his suit jacket, his shirt, his
trousers. And this time he let me. When I finally got his boxers off, I took a
step back and let my eyes flutter all over his heavenly body. His broad
shoulders were roped with muscle, and his abs were firm and rippled too. I
followed the perfect v-cut of his chest down to his groin, and when my eyes
found his erection I gasped audibly. His cock was magnificent; long, very
thick, and with a vein throbbing on the surface because of his erection.
Instantly, I was bending before him, his perfect cock in my hands, angling it
toward my mouth. The moment my tongue fluttered along his crown, he let out a
low growl, then pushed himself deeper into my mouth. And I took all of him,
sucking him to the back of my throat, licking my tongue furiously along his
length, then taking the base in my fist, and working my lips and tongue tightly
over the crown again. His cock started throbbing in my mouth, and I felt
something tighten in him, telling me he was close. I started working my tongue
faster, but he reached down to still my mouth, and pulled his cock out. I
looked up at him in confusion. “I want to come inside you, Sarah,” he said.

  I got to my feet, and he pulled
me to him, then slid a finger between my legs. He let out a low growl as his
finger slid effortlessly inside me. “You’re so fucking wet,” he said. “So
fucking wet and ready for me.” He reached down for his suit jacket, and pulled
something out of the pocket. A condom.