Grounded (8 page)

I studied her.
 
I had a hard time believing that he’d only had sex with her out of pity.
 
“He must have wanted you if he took you up on your offer.
 
I’m no expert, but I don’t think men have sex with women they don’t want.
 
And men
always
want women who look like you.”

She shrugged.
 
“None of it matters now.
 
It’s all in the past.
 
I like being alone.
 
Romantic entanglements just don’t interest me.
 
I’m content with work.
 
I keep busy.”
 

“You’re still in love with him,” I said, certain I was right.
 

She shrugged.
 
“I can’t help it, other than to try to think about it as seldom as possible.
 
Last I heard, he was engaged to his high school sweetheart.”
 

“You need to go back to Maui.
 
You still think of it as home.
 
Even if it’s just to get closure, you should go visit.
 
How many years has it been since you left?”
 

“Eight.”
 
She shrugged again.
 
“Maybe I will, sometime.
 
I
do
miss it.
 
Your turn.
 
Tell me about you and James.”
 

I glanced around, making sure we had privacy.
 
I leaned towards her.
 
“He’s into BDSM.
 
Well,
we
are into it, actually.”
 

She smiled wryly, not looking in the least surprised.

“You knew?”
 

“Not firsthand, but Jules tried to tell me about that once, when she thought he and I were dating.
 
She was trying to scare me off.
 
Have you noticed that all of the really pretty men always have a
thing
?
 
Women are just too easy for them, I think, so they always seem to develop…quirks, yanno?”
 

I laughed, because I loved her take on it, and the fact that it didn’t faze her a bit.
 
“No, I don’t know.
 
I only know James, and he and I share…quirks.”
 

She shrugged.
 
“I have a thing for giant Hawaiian men who look like ripped pro-wrestlers, and are covered in tattoos.”

“Men?
 
So this is a pattern for you?” I asked, genuinely curious.
 

She wrinkled her nose, those violet eyes sparkling.
 
“Just Akira.”
 

She looked at something behind my shoulder.
 
“Oh, lord, here comes Jackie.”
 
She caught my expression.
 
“You don’t like her?”

I gave my little shrug.
 
“Not so far.”

Lana waved an elegant hand towards the woman.
 
“It’s a fact that she’s more than half-crazy.
 
Did you know that she actually thinks that
shopping
is a legitimate job?
 
But she’s very funny when you get to know her.
 
She’s just rough around the edges, that’s all.”

I would have taken nice over funny any day, but I held my tongue.
 

Jackie approached us with her no-nonsense little walk, wearing smartly tailored, cuffed shorts, and an almost severely modest collared shirt.
 
The whole ensemble was pea-green, a color that worked with her complexion, but that I didn’t think would work for many.
 
Her cute legs, and her nude stilettos with red soles, kept the outfit from being too conservative.
 

Jackie was looking at my lap as though I had something disgusting growing there.
 

I looked down at the cream bag she had picked out the day before.

“Twice in a row with the same bag, Bianca?
 
You have a closet full of bags!
 
Are you trying to embarrass me?”
 

Lana tutted at her rather affectionately.
 
“Looks like you’re doing that all on your own, Jackie.
 
Chill out.
 
It’s a bag.
 
A lovely bag.
 
Go away if you aren’t here to be nice.”
 

Jackie looked surprised but not at all offended.
 
“You aren’t going to invite me to join you for lunch?”

Lana shook her head.
 
“Nope.
 
What are you up to?”
 

Jackie shrugged.
 
“I come here all the time.
 
It’s a good place to be seen.
 
I wanted to discuss some things with Bianca.”
 

“Nope.
 
Are you stalking her?”
 

“Noooo.
 
I just need a minute.”
 

“Then make an appointment,” Lana said with a sweet smile.

“What do you want, Jackie?” I asked, trying to make my tone bland rather than hostile.
 

She reached into her own monstrosity of a bag.
 
It was pea-green leather with a big red stripe down the side.
 
She pulled out a small piece of paper, brandishing it like a weapon.
 
“I have a list of functions that you need to attend.
 
Mostly luncheons.”
 

I sighed, waving at one of the empty chairs at our table.
 
“Sit down and tell me what you’re talking about, Jackie.”

She sat and started in, as if she had rehearsed the whole spiel.
 
“As the significant other of a powerful and influential man in this town, you have some new obligations.
 
You’ll be expected to attend lunches and brunches, and tea parties, nearly every day of the week.”

I felt my face stiffening the more she spoke.
 

”Being with James is a full-time job.
 
I’m willing to show you the ropes, since you can’t possibly understand what all of this entails
—
“

“I have a job,” I interrupted her.
 
“I’m not looking for another one.
 
I have no wish to go to functions with a bunch of strange women every day.”

She let out a very put-upon sigh.
 
“I was afraid you’d say that.
 
You can’t possibly comprehend the kind of responsibilities that James and I have had to own since our childhoods
—
“

I laughed in her face, my extremely rare temper rearing its very ugly head, the words she’d chosen setting me off.
 
“Responsibility?
 
You
are going to lecture
me
about responsibility?
 
I have had to care for myself since I was a child.
 
You probably still live off your parents’ wealth,” I guessed.
 
I saw by her expression that I was right.
 
“Don’t you dare speak a word to me about responsibility!”

I instantly regretted losing my cool, but I didn’t take anything I’d said back.
 
It was nothing but the truth, if an indelicate one.
 

“I didn’t mean to upset you again,” she said carefully.
 
“I know you don’t like me.
 
And I know you think I don’t like you, but that’s a nonissue to me.
 
I’m trying to help you.”

I raised a hand.
 
“Don’t.
 
Don’t try to help me.
 
Don’t try to tell me what I need to do with my time.”

She sighed that put-upon sigh of hers.
 
“Fine, I’ll go, but let me know if you reconsider.”
 

I looked at Lana after she’d left.
 
“What’s with her?”
 

Lana shook her head.
 
“She’s an odd one, so I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing it’s half self-promotion, since she could claim to dress you for all of the functions she’s plotting.
 
The other half would be that she actually thinks she’s trying to help you, in her own misguided way.
 
My advice would be to challenge her.
 
Her personality demands it.
 
Give her some arbitrary conditions to being your dresser.”
 
She snapped her fingers as though an idea had struck her.
 
“I know.
 
Tell her you only want to wear clothes from up-and-coming fashion designers.
 
Insist that you won’t wear anything else.
 
That will drive her crazy, but she’s perverse enough that she’ll enjoy it.”

I wrinkled my nose at her.
 
“I’ll try it, though I don’t understand it.”

She just shrugged.
 
“Jackie takes time to understand, but I guarantee she’ll grow on you.”
   

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mr. Muse

We chatted and ate and chatted some more.
 
We had been talking and laughing for hours when Lana looked at her phone and groaned.
 

“I need to get to a meeting.
 
Thanks for doing this,” Lana said, beginning to gather up her things.

“Thanks for inviting me.
 
It’s nice to discover that James has some female friends that aren’t complete psychopaths.”
 

She threw back her head and laughed.
 
She was a sight, with her blonde mermaid hair and her twinkling eyes.
 

We were just standing up from the table when I spotted James striding through the door of the now crowded
café
.
 
People stopped in their tracks to watch him, myself included.
 

He only had eyes for me as he approached.
 

He wrapped an arm around my waist, gripping tightly, before he turned a dazzling smile on Lana.
 
“We’ll walk you out,” he said.
 

We walked her out, flanked by our security, of which Lana had said not one word, and said our goodbyes.
 
I was surprised when James led me to the car, and then followed me into the large SUV.
 
It was only two p.m.
 
I hadn’t imagined he’d get off work so early.
 

“Are you done for the day?” I asked him as he crowded me into the middle seat.
 

He buckled me in like the control freak he is, before answering.
 
“I am.”
 
He grinned.
 
It was the most charming, incorrigible smile, the smile of a kid ditching school and getting away with it because no one could tell him no.

I traced his lips with one finger.
 
“That’s good news,” I said softly.
 

“I pawned some meetings off on my VP.
 
Meetings that were above his pay grade, so I may need to give him a raise.
 
I want to watch you paint.
 
I needed to see those dreams in your eyes firsthand.”

He fingered one of my earrings, his eyes as tender as I’d ever seen them.
 
“Thank you for that,” he whispered, a catch in his voice.
 

I melted.
 

We went straight to the apartment.
 
We found Stephan and Javier in one of the larger entertainment areas, playing video games and eating sandwiches.
 
They were still wearing pajamas.
 

I laughed when I saw them.
 

Stephan grinned back at me.
 

Javier didn’t even look up.
 
He was too busy trying to hunt down and kill Stephan’s character in the game.
 
He wasn’t successful.
 

Stephan shot Javier’s character in the head within seconds, barely even glancing at the screen.
 
He was the worst to play against.
 
He never lost.
 

Javier cursed.
 
“I almost had you!”

“Headshot,” Stephan pointed out.
 

James tugged at my hand, drawing my gaze to him.
 
He grinned at me, a twinkle in his eye.
 
“Well, we
have
to play a match or two.
 
I’m playing hooky from work.
 
Gaming is practically a requirement.”
 

“I’m on Stephan’s team,” I said quickly.
 
If I was going to play, it may as well be to win.

James pointed at me.
 
“You’re going to pay for that.”
 

And I did.
 
We ended up playing for hours, and I got
camped
.
 
James killed me, again and again, with no remorse.
 
He apparently took it personal when I picked someone else’s team.
 
Good to know
.
 

Marion brought us food while we played, since we were at it for so long.

We won some matches, and lost some, but it was more of a contest between James and Stephan.
 
Javier and I were hopelessly outmatched.

I elbowed James as he shot my army guy in the head yet again.
 

“This game is so sexist,” I complained.
 
“I can’t believe that there isn’t even an option for me to play as a girl.”
 

“Do you think that if you were playing as a busty blonde it would distract me?” James asked, amused.
 

“It couldn’t hurt.”
 

He tossed his controller on the ground.
 
I gave a little embarrassing shriek as he tossed me over his shoulder.
 
“We’re done, guys.
 
Buttercup wants to distract me.
 
Consider me distracted.”
 

The guys called out goodnights as James carried me away, even though it couldn’t have been even six p.m.
 
It seemed that they understood that if we went to our bedroom, we wouldn’t be coming back out.
 

I was surprised when James didn’t take me to our bedroom, instead heading to the studio.
 

“Will you pose for the nude?” I asked breathlessly, as he jostled me on his shoulder.
 

“Yes.
 
With a condition.”
 

“What condition?”
 

“I want you naked, as well, while you paint.”

It didn’t seem fair to argue with that stipulation, but I still sort of wanted to.
 

My breath whooshed from my lungs in a rush as James suddenly dumped me onto the cushy divan that took up a corner of the studio near the window.
 
He didn’t pounce on me, as I’d half assumed, and wished, that he would.
 
Instead, he began to strip.
   

“Take off your clothes and paint me, Love,” he said with a heart-stopping smile.

I set up my supplies first, setting everything up just so.
 
The sun was slowly setting, and the best of the day’s light had passed, so I turned on the bright overhead lights to illuminate the most beautiful man in the world lounging on a divan, naked and at my service.
 

I started to paint, forgetting that I was supposed to be nude, as well.

James had no qualms about reminding me.
 
“Take the clothes off.
 
All of them.
 
Now.”
 

I stripped slowly and a little awkwardly.
 
It was no strip tease.
 
I didn’t think I had that in me.
 
I didn’t doubt that I had something wild inside of me, but it just wasn’t
that
.
 

I wore nothing but my collar and my earrings as I began to paint.
 
Surprisingly, I was able to jump right into the project, not nearly as distracted by my own nudity as I’d thought I would be.
 
That was probably because I was utterly captivated by the man that had inspired the painting.

James watched me paint, as he’d said he needed to.
 
It was hard to feel self-conscious, even nude, when someone was looking at you as though you were the most beautiful and fascinating creature on the planet.
 

I had painted most of his face and torso before I got distracted by the subject at hand.
 
When I’d painted his chest, I’d wanted to touch his chest, to kiss it, and bury my face there.
 
I’d felt a similar urge when I’d been working on the curve of his neck, and his abdomen, hell, even his hair.
 
But when I started to work on that sexy little V shaped pelvic muscle, I got sidetracked in a hurry.
 

I felt myself licking my lips a lot, as I studied that area of his body.
 
Felt it, but couldn’t seem to stop it.
 

As though it had snapped me out of the dreamy trance I seemed to go into when I lost myself in a painting, I suddenly felt the air against my bare skin, like the temperature had just risen ten degrees in the room.
 
My skin felt hot, my breasts so heavy, my nipples hardening until they quivered.
 
I knew with a certainty that I wasn’t going to make any more progress on the nude that night.
   

I set down my palette, reaching for another one.
 
They were a luxury I’d never indulged in before.
 
Generally, I mixed paints on whatever piece of plastic I found that was the right shape and size.
 
James had a dozen for me here, in their own designated drawer.
 

I began to rifle through a selection of acrylic paints that were sorted by color.
 
I found one named Turquoise, but it wasn’t quite right, so I mixed in just a touch of emerald on the palette.
 

“What are you doing?
 
You mix mediums like that on paintings?
 
I didn’t notice that on any of your work,” James asked, sounding surprised.
 

My cheeks flushed in pleasure.
 
That he knew so much about my little hobby, that he studied what I did, it still surprised me, but more and more, it was only a good surprise.
 
My natural instinct to doubt everything he said and did was turning into something else now.
 
He didn’t lie.
 
Not about anything.
 
It was freeing for me somehow as I realized that.
 
If he didn’t lie, I didn’t have to question every little thing he did and said.
 
It was a liberating realization.
 

I grabbed a larger sable brush, dipping it lightly into the paint of my new palette as I returned to my easel.
 
I stood as though I were going to paint on the paper, then brought the brush slowly to my own chest.
 
I traced the large globe of my right breast with a light touch.
 

James sucked in a breath, sitting up to watch me.
 
His cock had calmed down to semi-hard, for once, but it quickly stood at attention, inflating like a particularly wonderful toy.
 

I traced the brush down the middle of my abdomen, nearly reaching my sex before tracing to the side to paint one hip.
 

“Come here,” James said gruffly.
 

I had been intending to tease him a bit, but my body began to move instantly at his words, walking to him slowly, dragging the paintbrush to my other hip with a leisurely stroke.
 

He licked his lips.
 
“Keep going,” he said, making no move to touch me even after I’d moved close.
 

I painted up my torso again, tracing my ribs one by one slowly, first one side and then the other.
 
I dipped into my palette, picking up a generous amount of the turquoise.
 
I painted the bones of my collar, being very careful not to graze my locked choker.
 
I painted my other breast, moving the brush in wide circles over its roundness until I reached the rock hard nipple in the center.
 

James made a little, “hmm,” of approval in his throat, so I lingered there, painting small circles while he watched my brush move with rapt attention.
 
I gave the opposite breast the same slow treatment.
 

James leaned back on his elbows.
 
He patted a spot near his hip.
 
“Put your foot right here.
 
I want you to paint your thighs for me.”
 

I propped my foot at his hip, and he sucked in a gasp.
 
“Fuck, I can see how wet you are from here.”
 

I painted down my body, down my hip and to my thighs.
 
I painted the very upper edges of my thighs carefully, stopping just shy of my mound.
 
I painted back and forth, back and forth, from the top of my inner thigh to my knee and back again, teasing him with the movement.
 

“Are you sore?” he asked, his voice thick.
 

“Sore how?
 
From the roses?” I asked, painting an idle pattern down my shin, then back up my calf.
 

“I know you’re sore from the roses.
 
I saw the marks on you.
 
I’m talking about inside.
 
Are you too sore for rough fucking?”
 

“Hmmm.
 
Only one way to find out,” I told him.
 

I moved over him, straddling his thighs, skimming over his quivering erection, finally settling myself against his taut stomach.
 
I traced the brush over one perfect cheek.
 
He tilted his face up to give me better access.
 
I’d thought I’d done the color of his eyes justice, but as I saw the paint set against that tarnished color, I saw that I hadn’t even come close.
 
His had little gold flecks around the iris, and his eyes were paler, a paleness that pierced, as though being lighter somehow gave them more substance.
 

“You have the most beautiful eyes in the world, James.”
 

He hummed in pleasure.
 
He soaked up every little compliment I gave him like a sponge, which always surprised me, since I couldn’t imagine that he didn’t hear things like that every day.
 

I painted a thin line down his nose, then along his perfect jawline.
 
I dragged the brush down his neck to his collarbone.
 
I lingered there, enjoying just looking at him.
 
I could never get enough of the sight of his skin, and no matter how much I got, I still felt deprived.