Breathe (3 page)

The way she’d run out of the party told him that he wasn’t going to be able to woo her so easily. He’d even conjured a backup plan in case she tried to deny the connection between them—one that would bind them together, at least for a while, so they could explore the attraction. It was one he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Suddenly even more eager to set eyes on her, he knocked on the swollen wood of the door. As he’d expected, no voice rose over the roar of what he now saw were furnaces. Pressing his palm flat against the splintered wooden door, he opened it and went in.

The heat was a moist slap in the face. Even though he’d been in Mexico for a week, nothing could have prepared him for the inferno that raged inside the tiny building. Sweat beaded at the back of his neck within seconds and dripped slowly down his spine as he inhaled mouthfuls of searing air.

“I’m busy.” Samantha had her back to him, but was instantly recognizable by the red curls that were piled haphazardly on top of her head. She wore black athletic shorts, which showed miles of the creamy, curvy legs that he’d admired the night before. The ribbed tank that covered her torso clung to her skin with perspiration, making the thin fabric transparent enough that Elijah could quite clearly see that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Wow.” When she heard his voice, Samantha stiffened noticeably, and Elijah couldn’t quite hold back a chuckle. She’d recognized his voice, and the primal part of him was pleased.

Then she turned around, and he deliberately swallowed that smile. It was a wise move, to his way of thinking, since clutched in her hands was a long metal pipe tipped with hot glass.

He opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what, since her very presence clouded his mind, a remarkable novelty for him. Samantha held up a hand sharply, cutting off his words before he’d even spoken them.

“I’m working.” Her voice was firm, even reproving, as she turned away from him and back to the source of the noise and heat. He narrowed his eyes, held his tongue, but stayed where he was, watching with fascination.

She placed the glass on the end of the pipe back into the blazing furnace. She was seemingly unaffected by the heat surrounding her. Rather than wilting, she seemed to glow, to draw energy from it.
Fascinating
, Elijah thought, unable to tear his eyes away from her competent movements, the long limbs that moved so gracefully, the mass of red curls.

The fact that she seemed so entirely focused on her work, so completely oblivious of him, was more enticing than frustrating. What would it be like, he wondered, to have that complete and total focus on him?

An image flashed through his mind, of Samantha naked and bound before him, the beautiful flush of arousal on her cheeks. The image was shattered when she scraped the glass off the end of the metal wand and, leaning it carefully against the wall, turned to face him. Instead of a beautiful smile, she cast him a look full of irritation.

“You know, most people wait for an invitation to enter.” Her voice was appealing, reminding Elijah of whiskey and caramel at the same time, even though her words were imbued with agitation. She cast an irritated glare at him, setting the pipe down and rolling her shoulders back.

The movement made her unbound breasts jump forward, and Elijah found himself trying very hard to keep his eyes on Samantha’s face. In every aspect of his life he was in control—made it a point to be so—but this woman was like nothing he’d ever encountered.

It made him thirst for her submission even more.

She’d been so unsure of herself at the art show, but here . . . here on her own turf she felt comfortable enough to tell him off. Yes, she offered a fascinating combination, Elijah thought, even as warning bells sounded in his head, telling him to get out before he got in over his head.

I’m not about to get in too deep with her
, he reminded himself. If—
when
—they embarked on the steamy affair that he had in mind, he was confident it would be satisfying for both of them, but a temporary engagement.

“I’m not most people.” Slowly he raked his eyes over her from head to toe, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was doing so. He’d never been the type to play hard to get—when he wanted a woman, he said so.

He would be a little more cautious with this one, in case she went running, the way she already had.

“No. You’re not.” Picking up a bottle of water that must have been horribly warm just from being in the small room, Samantha cast him a considering look, then opened it and took long, greedy swallows, draining the liquid.

“When we met, why didn’t you admit that you were the artist of the sculpture we were talking about?” Elijah found himself watching the sensual pull of her lips on the bottle. Once she finished drinking, those lips pressed tightly together, as if she was debating something with herself, before she finally spoke.

“Why are you here?” She ignored his question and looked directly at him, and Elijah felt a stab of disappointment that there wasn’t even a hint of submission in her gaze. He had no desire to alter even a single thing about this gorgeous creature. But he wanted her. He wanted to know her intimately, as a man was made to know a woman. His cock was already aching for her, just from being in the same room. And he was intent on having her—more than once.

He wanted—needed—a woman who would let him call the shots. In return he would treat her like the most precious thing in creation for the time that they were together, but he needed to be in control. And though he knew that made him sound like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, the popularity of his clubs like Devorar and In Vino Veritas had taught him that he wasn’t the only one.

Hot as he already was for Samantha, he didn’t think this would be anything more than an intense affair, one that satisfied their mutual curiosity. But he wanted her enough to not need to think beyond that. She intrigued him beyond comparison, and in the world in which he now lived—a world in which things were given to him before he even asked—the chase was too much to resist.

Eyes narrowing, Elijah watched as Samantha rolled her shoulders back once more, his eyes taking in the arousing sight of her nipples pressing against the thin cotton of her tank top.

He wanted her enough to ignore his own rules, at least for the moment.

“I want you.” He answered her question bluntly, honestly.

“Cut right to the chase, don’t you?” Her glass green eyes widened. “What if I don’t want you?”

At that, Elijah smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“I told you last night not to lie to me.” As he spoke he drew up straighter, pulling his dominance to him. He watched Samantha inhale sharply, looking
him
over this time.

But she didn’t drop her gaze, didn’t seem eager to please him. Instead she ran her tongue slowly over her lips, considering.

“All right,” she said slowly, nodding thoughtfully as she spoke. “Fair enough. I’m . . . attracted to you. That doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.”

Elijah cocked his head to one side as he studied her. He enjoyed the dance of seduction, but here she had him on uncertain footing. He didn’t think she was deliberately trying to be a brat, something his ex had done quite frequently.

Most of the world didn’t understand the needs that brought people to seek something beyond vanilla sex, and because of that they frowned upon it.

For years Elijah had felt a drive to help people work past those biases. His desire for Samantha gave him an even greater incentive.

She was searching for something, and he didn’t think she even knew what yet. He was more than happy to help her find it.

“What if I told you that I could answer the questions that brought you to the show last night?” Deliberately he took a step closer to Samantha, just barely invading what he figured she probably considered her personal space.

She eyed him warily, her fingers twisting in the hem of her tank top.

“Maybe I don’t need the answers anymore.” She thrust her chin into the air.

Elijah thought it was cute.

“Again with the lies, Samantha?” He reached out and ran his finger lightly over the curve of her cheekbone, savoring the resultant quiver. “Your pants are going to catch on fire any second.”

Samantha narrowed her eyes at him. Elijah waited patiently, making sure his expression was calm but stern.

Those green eyes never wavered in their focus, never looked down, as he would have expected from a submissive. But finally she swallowed, and he saw acceptance in the stubborn set of her shoulders.

“All right. I want answers, but I’m not sure I’m ready for them.” Her face showed him nothing but stark honesty, and Elijah felt a tug of pleasure.

It was a step in the right direction. Being a Dom, he was inclined to push her, but he was also a strategic businessman, and he knew that in that exact moment she would have dug her heels in and pushed right back.

“I’d love it if you showed me how this all works.” He deliberately phrased his words as a statement, not a question. Samantha furrowed her brow, seeming to sense that he was maneuvering her, but finally shrugged in acceptance.

“Fine.” Eyeing him suspiciously, she turned and picked up the long metal rod that she had leaned against the wall earlier. Turning back over her shoulder, she shot him an exasperated look. “Since my concentration has been broken anyway.”

Elijah bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking as he followed her across the room. The contrast between her somewhat sweet inquisitiveness the night before and her smart mouth today was delightful. Each new facet of her personality he encountered told him how amazing her eventual submission would be.

She placed a hand on her waist as she stood outside the door to the furnace, the metal rod still in her other hand. She frowned at him, and he was struck again by how pretty she was.

Then she opened the mottled metal door, allowing an inferno of orange light and heat to escape into the room. It bathed her face with an unholy gleam, made her silken curls shine like rubies, and Elijah’s mouth went dry.

Had he seriously thought she was just pretty? That she was cute? She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, a goddess of fire.

“Are you paying attention?” Again that slight frown furrowed the space between her eyebrows, and Elijah found that he wanted to reach out and smooth the skin with the tips of his fingers.

He didn’t know how she would react to a simple touch like that, which wouldn’t normally stop him . . . but she had a furnace full of molten glass behind her.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d wait until he wasn’t literally playing with fire.

“I’m paying attention.” Though it might not have been wise, he moved a step closer to her than he suspected she was comfortable with. Her shoulders stiffened, but a sidelong glance also showed him that the brush of their arms made her nipples tighten.

He made her uncomfortable, but she also wanted him. He was immensely pleased with the combination.

Holding herself rigid, as if unwilling to give in to the urge to move away from him, Samantha held out the metal rod for Elijah to see.

“This is a blowpipe. And I just dare you to make a joke about that.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he gestured for her to continue. “This pear shape at the end is what I use to collect a gather of glass.”

Elijah watched, fascinated, as Samantha placed the end of the blowpipe into the glowing orange interior of the furnace.

“This is called the melting furnace.” She rolled the pipe competently, wrapping a thick substance around its end. “This is always kept hot, and it’s always full of colorless liquid glass.”

“Where do you get the glass from?” Elijah remained transfixed as Samantha removed the blowpipe from the furnace.

“I make my own. It’s mostly silica, with some potassium and limestone as stabilizers.” Samantha rolled the glob of molten glass against the edge of the oven, her fingers working with small, competent movements. “After twelve hours at twenty-two hundred degrees, it becomes liquid.”

The red-hot glow of the glass was fading, the gather cooling, Elijah guessed, now that it was outside of the oven.

“Pick a color.” Samantha looked at him, still twirling the pipe. Her eyes were bright, that snapping apple green, and in that moment it was the only color Elijah could see.

“Green.” He watched as Samantha pulled a dish full of what looked like dark sand from a metal shelf.

“What’s that?” He watched, fascinated, as Samantha rolled the glass in the powder.

“This is colored glass, ground down as fine as salt.” Her biceps flexed with the effort of keeping her movements even as she moved to another, smaller furnace and opened the door.

“This is called the glory hole. It’s a smaller furnace used to reheat. This will fuse the green into the colorless glass.” Samantha removed the blowpipe from the glory hole, and Elijah was surprised at the jolt of delight he felt when he saw that the gather of glass was now a deep green.

Except . . .

“Can we make it lighter?” He was intent now, engrossed in the project. Samantha pressed her lips together as she looked at him.

“Micromanage much?” Her voice was tart. He grinned at her, pleased to see she couldn’t quite control the quirk of her own lips.

Leaning closer so that his lips brushed against the lobe of her ear, he whispered, his voice husky, “You don’t know the half of it.”

She didn’t jerk away, didn’t try to deny the heat that sparked between them as their eyes met and held.

She kept her eyes on his face as she moved to a table, still turning the rod.

“The glass is the consistency of honey now.” Her own voice had thickened with arousal, and Elijah inhaled deeply. A fine sheen of sweat covered her skin and made it glow as she finally looked away from him to her work, holding something that looked like a ladle against the glass.

“This helps me shape it before I start the glassblowing.” Her eyes flicked from the glass to him, just briefly. “That’s when you’ll get your paler green.”

“How?” Elijah watched intently.