Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) (7 page)

Jacques rolled his eyes. “Cut the self-deprecating crap. She’ll be fine. All she needs is direction. The fact that Julianne doesn’t truss herself up like a slut and prance through the Dungeon doesn’t mean she isn’t what you need. You deserve better than that anyhow.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not even gracing that with an answer.”

“But a novice? No, not just a novice. A complete innocent.”

“She can learn, Nico.”

God help him, he would be lost to Julianne forever if that turned out to be true. Nicolai ran his hand over his forehead.

“Her innocence is a gift. Think of her as a blank canvas and imagine what you could create with someone like her. You’re a visionary, Nico. Allow yourself to dream.”

Allow myself to dream. Have I found her? Have I found ma femme exquise? Have I found my muse?

The promise in Jacques’s words sank directly into his soul and cut away the doubt.

He wanted to believe.

He wanted to be loved.

He wanted Julianne Giroux.

And she was within his grasp. He only had to reach out and touch her, mold her, make her his own. After years in this lifestyle, he certainly had enough experience for both of them. And if he was honest, the fact that she was untouched, that she would belong to him and only him, thrilled the primal male who lurked beneath the sophisticated gentleman façade.

Nicolai allowed the dream of Julianne to consume him, firing his imagination and spurring him to move. He left the Dungeon the same way he entered it, but now, he was headed in an entirely new direction.

6

A New Direction

Streaming water blurred his vision through the glass.

Outside the wind blew steadily up the rue, forcing the heavy rain against the gallery doors. The few who ventured out struggled, heads bowed, toward their destinations. Nicolai stared into the rain, waiting for Julianne.

In retrospect, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she bypassed every one of his emotional barriers. Without the expectation of a romantic entanglement, he left his emotional baggage at the door and willingly invited her into the private world of his studio. He’d never done that with a woman. Never even considered it. His studio was the only place where he went unguarded. Creating art, his only intimacy. Yet he shared it with her, again and again, without giving the effect so much as a passing thought. At exactly what point he began to rely on her presence he didn’t know, but found that he was only inspired to create when she was there and forced to fill his time with other tasks when she was absent. Now that he recognized the connection, he had to admit that he liked it. A lot.

Jacques was right. I am a blind fool
.

And Darion? How many times had he listened to Darion wax on about the need for true love in life, filling his head with tales of finding completion with a soul mate? He thought Darion’s fairytale was complete bullshit, but now? He didn’t know what to think. It would explain why the thought of not having Julianne in his life made him sick to his stomach. Why he wanted her for his own with such a fierce lust that his whole body ached. Why he needed to see his beautiful muse turn the corner in the rain as much as he needed to take his next breath.

He owed them both thanks for their faith, clung to it while he pondered his future. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want the quick fuck. He wanted it all. But he had to be patient and methodical. Only one thing would capture the skittish creature he’d set his sights on: trust. And it would take time to build it.

Julianne’s mistily distorted figure rushing though the roaring storm jarred him from his musings. He shucked his suit jacket and pushed out into the rain to shield her from the pummeling sheets of water. When she emerged from under his jacket, her hair hung wet in her eyes. Water dripped off her chin as he peeled her drenched coat off her shoulders. She was soaked to the skin. A very tempting white cotton blouse clung to her breasts to reveal lace beneath the wet fabric.

So the demure lady likes lingerie. How telling.

He fought the urge to run his hand over the silky wetness of her chest and had to turn away from his Siren before his hands refused to obey him.

“I’m so wet,” Julianne giggled, declaring the obvious. “Absolutely soaked.”

As she combed her fingers through her hair to push it away from that flawless face, her body screamed with lush sensuality. How had he not seen it before? Julianne exuded sex even as she dripped rainwater all over the floor.

“So am I.” He shot her his best attempt at an annoyed look, the Dom in him wanting to scold her for venturing out in this downpour, but he simply couldn’t suppress the laughter. “Come here, you silly girl. Let me dry you off.”

He dragged her into his arms and began wiping her face with a damp handkerchief. She fit him perfectly. He relaxed with her nestled against him and allowed his whole body to feel the rightness of her in his arms. It was as if he was born to care for this delicate woman. As if the disillusionment and cynicism of his life could float away on her gentle breath. As if he might finally have a chance at Darion’s fairytale of loving someone and being loved in return.

His heart ached at the thought that he wanted to hold her for...well, forever.

After a moment, he released her. “I have a gift.” He eased Julianne into a chair and disappeared into his office, only to return a moment later, holding a black box tied with a huge red bow. “For you.”

He’d chosen a stunning pair of black Christian Louboutin platform pumps. Beautiful, yet refined, their red soles adding the perfect hint of spice. Just like Julianne.

He wrapped a throw around her shoulders and stepped back to watch the reaction. His lips curled into a satisfied grin as she ripped off the bow and tossed the box top to the floor. Her delight at his gift pleased him more than he imagined.

Those perfect lips fell open. “Oh, sir.”

The breathy words had him contemplating less innocent ways to elicit them again.

“They’re gorgeous.” She ripped her eyes away from her treasure and stared at him in disbelief. “How did you know about my passion for shoes?”

“I can see past the façade,” he whispered in a velvet voice.

Kneeling in front of her, he slipped off one wet shoe, then the other. He raised her ankle and skimmed his fingers along the curve of her foot before removing one extravagant shoe from its box. With silent reverence, he guided the shoe over her toes and onto her foot. Then extended her leg and smoothed his palm up the back of her calf as he admired his handiwork.

“
Parfaite
,” he said and rested her foot against his knee before reaching down for the other shoe.

They passed the time together talking over coffee while Julianne dried off. She was giddy with the attention he lavished on her. She obviously thrived with caring and he felt guilty for his consistently harsh treatment of her. He would change that starting today. He planned to spoil this woman rotten and love every minute of it.

“Thank you for the shoes, sir. I adore them,” she said through her laughter.

Hearing Julianne laugh like that made his jaded spirit feel somehow lighter and the fact that he hadn’t heard it often enough struck him as tragic. Julianne should be happy like this. Always. He vaguely wondered why she wasn’t and added making her smile to his list of priorities.

“Model them for me, Julianne. I want to see you dance.”

Nicolai expected his oh-so-proper apprentice to bristle at the challenge. Instead, she flashed a dazzling grin over her shoulder and began to dance around the gallery.

He stared, beguiled at the ease of her sexual display. It was shocking. Try hell-had-just-frozen-over shocking. At first glance,
zut
, at the thousandth glance, Julianne appeared so reserved, but when you looked deeper.
Dieu m'aider
. Her hair was a waterfall of mahogany, cascading around her. Her body flowed with its own sensual, silent rhythm. And her lips. Those perfect lips. He would have to spend a few decades discovering how they would feel dancing over every part of his body.

Why does Julianne hide this side of her nature? Did something as simple as my command afford her the freedom to express it?

He didn't know and part of him didn't care. Most women were so obvious. Julianne's mystique made her even more alluring, if that was even possible. Greedy eyes devoured the sight of her throwing her head back and twirling in front of him with joyful abandon. To distract himself from the mounting urge to spin her against the nearest wall and ravage her, he suggested they go downstairs to work.

She practically stamped her foot in protest.

He raised a curious eyebrow and said in a playful tone, “Please tell me that’s not a pout on your pretty face.”

Lowering her gaze, she bent her ankle in like a little girl asking for candy and said in a sappy sweet voice, “My shoes aren’t white, sir. I don’t want to go downstairs because I don’t want to take them off.” Raising imploring eyes, she bit her bottom lip.

Ça alors! A perfect role play.

The vision of the innocent seductress standing in front of him threatened to snap the very thin hold he had on his control. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to grab his ingénue and teach her a lesson on the consequences of such a look.

Beginning with my teeth sinking into that perfect lip
.

But Julianne wasn’t ready for that and there were more subtle ways to regain the upper hand. He bit his own lip and to his wicked delight, an apprehensive look instantly replaced her playful attempt at flirtation.

Oh, no. I'm not wrong about her. Not at all.

Julianne's emotions were so strong, he could feel them. She was afraid. And aroused. He would never harm her, but he wanted a little fear. Knowing her trust was not easily given would make her submission all the sweeter. All pretense of teasing gone, he let the hunger show in his eyes and dropped his gaze. Slowly. Over every inch.

“You will not remove those shoes until I tell you to remove them,” he growled in a voice low and possessive. “You, my Beauty, are the work of art to be displayed for my eyes in that white studio.”

Primal satisfaction swamped him as he watched her skin flush and her nipples pearl beneath her blouse in reaction to his words. He prowled toward her like a lion about to strike its prey and she practically ran to the stairs.

Nicolai laughed out loud as he followed Julianne down.

*****

Julianne was confused.

She lay on the bed in her room, feet raised in the air, admiring the sophisticated shoes Nicolai had given her.

They are perfect, just like he said.

She couldn’t claim to be an expert on men, but a gift like this seemed so intimate. The kind a man gives to his lover, not his student. She felt silly even thinking that Nicolai wanted her in that way.

But what if he does?

He revealed a side she had yet to see and it excited her. He called her “my Beauty” and the pet name made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Is he trying to seduce me?

She giggled at the ludicrous thought as soon as she had it. Still, just because it wasn’t reality, didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge a guilty pleasure in fantasy.

She bent her knees and slid her palms along the back of her calves, trying to recreate the feel of Nicolai there. In her mind, his hands replaced hers. A gentle drag up over her knees. Down the back of her thighs. Along the curve of her bottom. She imagined Nicolai’s talented hands following the same trail and the simple stroke made her skin tingle with sensitivity. Her lips opened in a silent gasp as a delicious ache sprouted deep within her body.

She rose up, stripping off her camisole, and cupped her breasts. Warm palms moved over the bare skin. From the downy underside. Over the nipples. Back down again. When they hardened, she pinched herself. Gently at first, then hard and harder, until the throb in the puckered peaks slipped along that invisible path that connected them to her clit. It twitched with need. She arched her back, continuing to pluck and pull with one hand while the other travelled lower.

Her legs parted as her fingers caressed the silky inside of her thigh and flowed up toward the juncture of her hip. She brought the image of Nicolai kneeling at her feet to her mind’s eye as she slid her fingers under the elastic waistline of her panties and brushed a hand over the mound of her sex. He was so graceful, so utterly assured as he knelt before her.

She imagined being displayed for him now.

Parting the moist lips, she dragged one finger over her swelling clit and began to stroke herself. Her hips lifted against her own touch, intensifying the pleasure. Eyes closed, she added another finger to the sensual glide and trailed lazy circles over the slippery nub, spreading her legs wider for her imaginary voyeur.

As the slow rotation gained speed, the image in her mind flashed to Nicolai wielding wood against her palms and the arousal kicked into overdrive. Her fingers moved faster, sweat broke out over her skin and her weeping sex throbbed with the memory. The pleasure between her legs converged, so hard and fast, it was almost painful. The sensations mounted, mounted...and suddenly became too keen. Their intensity rocketed through her with an uncontrollable force.

She ripped her hand away and bolted upright on the bed. Dazed and panting, she stared at her wet fingers, stunned by her body’s irrepressible reaction.

What the hell am I doing? This man is forbidden. Absolutely forbidden.

Her heart raced, threatening to skip from her chest, as panic overcame her senses.

He
would not approve.

The ugly thing her father planted deep inside the pit of her being cast a tendril into her mind to remind her of his power. Like a choking vine, it wrapped around her spirit and pulled her down.

Her eyes bounced around the empty room trying to lock onto something, anything, to anchor her mind. It was no use. Her breath sawed in and out of her mouth, but she couldn’t get enough air. The room began to spin. Faster and faster. Until everything around her was lost in an unfocused swirl of color.

Terror swept over her when she heard his voice. “You have failed me, daughter. You know what happens when you tempt men. I don’t want to punish you, but you leave me no other choice.”

No. Not again.

Frantic, she scrambled off the bed into the whirlpool. The world tilted under her feet as she kicked off her beautiful shoes. Her gut clenched with dry heaves. She was going to be sick.

Trembling hands fumbled with the knob until the door swung wide with a loud crack against the wall. She lurched into the hallway and stumbled to the bathroom on loose legs. Both faucets of the shower thrust to full on, she knelt on the floor beneath the pounding stream. She wretched and gagged, but nothing came up.