Out of Control (Untamed #2) (2 page)

But all I could do was stand frozen in place and stare.

Someone bumped my shoulder, jostling me out of the trance. The smooth sound of French flowing between passersby pierced through. The artists’ market came back into my consciousness, invading my senses with sounds and color and smells.

And the world began to move again.

Dare turned away from me and stepped behind his display, then said something to the artist next to him that I couldn’t make out. I marveled at his paintings as I slowly walked toward him. Most of his work consisted of Paris landscapes, like so many of the other artists in this square. They were good—
great
even—though hardly a true demonstration of his incredible talent.

But he also had a handful of standout pieces that had caught my eye in the first place—the nudes. The color range of his palette hadn’t changed much, but his style was more honed, more clearly his own. The light falling on the model’s skin was warm, reminding me of the way the late afternoon light shone in his Brooklyn apartment all those years ago. And the more I looked at the paintings, the more familiar they seemed.

“What are you doing here?” His words were sharp, angry, and abrupt. I flinched in surprise. I hadn’t realized he’d turned to glare at me.

My mouth felt dry and my brain sluggish as I struggled to come up with the right thing to say. Something that would smooth the harsh frown off his face, return the light to his eyes. Anything that would make him forgive me.

I’d spent so much time dreaming of this moment, hoping to see him again, to get the chance to explain, to make him understand and give me another chance. But all of my well-rehearsed speeches disappeared into the ether of my mind. What was left was as blank as a new canvas.

“I’m—”
Shit
. What was I? Anger rolled off him, crashing into me, rendering me stupid. “I’m so glad to see you, Dare.” It was the truth, but from the look on his face it was the wrong thing to say.

“Really?” His eyes narrowed to dangerous, dark slits. I’d seen that look before. It was far from good. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. How can you be glad to see someone you don’t know? Someone you’ve never seen before in your life?”

My words from three years ago were flung back at me. And they stung. Especially coming from Dare’s mouth. I shook my head, but they cut into me regardless. I deserved this. I deserved his scorn. I’d done this. And all I wanted to do now—all I’d wanted to do every single day since it happened—was undo it.

Why didn’t life have a rewind button?

I extended a hand out toward him, but he stepped back, keeping out of reach. Jesus. Was he really so disgusted by me that he flinched at the mere thought of my touch?

Yeah, I guess deserved that too.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice shaking a little, tears threatening to spill. I forced them back and stepped closer. Lowering my voice, I said, “Just let me explain…”

“No, thanks.”

“Dare, please…I just…” The look on his face stopped me cold. Okay. Now was clearly not the time. He was too angry. Even if I got the words out, he wouldn’t be able to hear them. I knew this about him. But I didn’t want to lose him again. I needed to keep him talking. “How did you end up in Paris?” I said as I waved my hand at his paintings. “Are you studying with someone here?”

He crossed his arms, the movement pulling his t-shirt taut against his hard chest. I knew the feel of those muscles so well, could feel the ghost of them under my fingers as I looked at him.

He considered me for a moment, then said, “Yes.”

It was one word, but it was a start. I’d take anything I could get.

“That’s wonderful. I can tell you’ve been working hard.” I nodded toward the nudes. “Are those more recent?”

His gaze followed mine, then he glanced back at me, almost like he was trying to see if my question was sincere.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “But the landscapes are what sell best on the street.”

“They’re good. Really good.” I looked at him again to find him staring back at me, an unreadable expression on his face. “Your work stood out to me, which is why I stopped. I had no idea the paintings were yours. But they’re the best I’ve seen in the square.”

At those words, something changed in him. He didn’t exactly smile, but the intensity of his glare lessened, and his frown diminished. Thank god!
Progress
.

“How long have you been in Paris?” I asked.

“Almost a year.”

I wanted to say
Where did you go? I looked for you. I tried to find you.
But the words lodged in my throat. All I could manage was, “Do you have an apartment here?”

He nodded. “Latin Quarter.”

“Really?” My place was in the same district. That meant…maybe…MAYBE I’d get to see him again. Maybe he’d forgive me. Maybe… “Do you have a studio?”

“In my apartment.”

“That’s just…I’m really happy for you, Dare.” I smiled at him. My
real
smile—not happy, but real. Pain still filled my chest, but there was something different about the sting this time. It was less sharp, more bittersweet.

His lips lifted at the corners just a bit, but his mouth immediately hardened when his gaze landed on something behind me.

“Ah,
chérie
!” Lucien said, coming up beside me and smelling like an ashtray. “I have found you.” He put his meaty hand on my ass.

My entire body stiffened, stunned by the crude, abrupt gesture.

By the time I recovered enough to smack Lucien’s hand away, Dare’s face had already become chiseled marble—cold and immobile. Hurt burned anew in his stony, dark eyes. He looked at me like he had no idea who I was, then turned and began to stalk away.

“No, wait!” I called after him, pushing past Lucien. “It’s not what you think!”

Dare turned and glared at me even as he kept walking.

“Don’t, Reagan.” He raised his hands, his eyes glass-hard. “Just fucking
don’t
.”

And then he disappeared into the crowd.

three

J
ust like that, Dare was gone. Again.

I rushed around the square, searching for his tall frame, the black shirt he was wearing, the messy head of short hair…
nothing
.

No-
fucking
-thing.

Only laughing tourists, kissing lovers, and other people’s happiness.

Mocking me.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, I gave up. It was useless. He was already gone, and even if I managed to locate him in the sea of tourists, there was no way in hell he would talk to me now.

I stormed away from Lucien, pushing my way through the people milling about. If I could’ve lost him in the crowd I would have. No such luck.

“Reagan! What is the matter?” He grabbed at the sleeve of my cropped sweater and I jerked my arm forward, picking up my pace.

“Go away!” I stopped short, and he slammed into me, wrapping his arms around me to keep us from falling. “Let go of me!” I pushed him away again and turned to glare at him.

“
Merde
,” he said.
Shit.
His slicked-back hair was slightly disarrayed, and his dull gray eyes widened as he took in my face. “
Mon dieu!
You look like you breathe fire.”

I shut my eyes and all I could see was Dare slipping out of my reach. Over and over again. And I fell apart, unable to hold on to my emotions any longer. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. A sob rose in my throat that I couldn’t force back down no matter how much I wanted to. That black hole in my chest grew to a gaping vortex of pain.

For the first time in three years, I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stuff the tears back down. The dam broke and overflowed right there on the street.

Lucien’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes darted around the square like he didn’t know what to do. He managed to guide me over to a table at a café without touching me this time, then motioned for me to sit down as he ordered two coffees.

Which would’ve been sweet if I didn’t hate coffee with a passion.

“Why the tears,
chérie
?” he said.

“That…was…Dare,” I choked out between sobs. “I…finally…found him…again…and now…he’s…GONE.”

“Oh, I see. He was your lover.” Lucien smoothed back his hair in a well-practiced motion. He reached over and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. I will help you forget this man, no?”

Um, NO. Not if he was thinking—

“One summer in Paris will cure you. This, I know.” As he handed me a tissue, his smile seemed almost genuine. Like he was a concerned uncle. Well, one who wanted to get in my fucking pants.

I blotted my face and blew my nose as my mind began to work.

Maybe Lucien was right.

Not in the way he insinuated, of course. Because SHUDDER. But perhaps what I needed to do to get Dare out of my system was to have some sort of closure. The best way to do that was by seeing the person again, saying what you needed to say, and walking away. Right?

Though the thought of walking away from Dare just about killed me all over again.

If I was really going to do this, I was going to need something a lot stronger than a disgusting little cup of coffee.

My brain was buzzing just slightly, blurring around the edges thanks to those sweet little pick-me-ups I’d popped as soon as we’d gotten back to the apartment.

I needed it. I needed to not feel a single thing tonight.

I’d scoped out the hottest club in the Latin District, intent on not thinking about anything for one fucking night. The pills, the alcohol, and the blaring music would obliterate all unwelcome thoughts.

At least that was the plan.

When I’d come out of my room, Lucien had whistled low at my short, silver and blue vintage dress.

Thankfully, he wasn’t invited.

He’d asked where I was going, but I just shrugged and said, “Out,” grabbed my keys and walked out the door. I didn’t want him coming along—I didn’t want to spend the night prying his hands off me. Instead, I planned to forget Dare with someone who didn’t skeeve me out because he was old and perverted. Someone safe. And, as always, forgettable.

The club was about a half block from the Seine. Twinkling city lights shone out over the water, lighting up the river and my path toward pure oblivion. Although I was well aware that the Latin District spanned a large area, I couldn’t help but wonder if Dare’s apartment was nearby. How close was he right now?

I shook my head.
No
. This evening was supposed to be about getting my mind off of him…but I couldn’t help it. Seeing him again today had brought everything back. All the memories I’d tried so hard to forget were fresh wounds again—the feel of his hands on my skin, his smell, the taste of him on my lips, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed, the things his mouth did to me, his…

Stop it, stop it, stop it.
Focus
. I shook my head again and walked inside the club.

It was loud, the heavy bass thumping and blaring, the bar crowded with people—none of them Dare. I pushed my way through and ordered a drink just as Lucien slid onto the stool next to me.

My jaw dropped as I looked up at him with wide eyes.

What. The. Fuck?

“I thought you might want some company, no?” he said, and signaled to the bartender to bring him a shot like mine.

Fucking hell. The bastard had followed me.

I downed my shot and nodded for another. As the bartender refilled my glass, I caught a busty brunette giving Lucien the eye. With a deliberate point in her direction, I practically shoved him away from me. He shot the woman a quick smile and raised his glass, but then turned back to me.

“Go talk to her.” I looked around the club for someone. Anyone. “I’m fine. You don’t have to take care of me.”

He nodded to the bartender for another round of drinks. “This is something I don’t mind,
chérie
. I don’t want you to feel sad about your lost lover.” He reached over and stroked my hand once before I jerked it away. “You are much too beautiful to be down.”

“I’m not down. The only place I’m going tonight is
up
,” I said, forcing a laugh. I picked up my glass and drained it. The sharp sting of alcohol burned my lungs.
Good
. “I’m fine, Lucien. I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to go over there—” I pointed to the dance floor. “—to dance with THAT guy—” I picked out some random hottie. “—and have a fan-
fucking
-tastic night. You don’t have to worry about me
.
At. All.” I patted the bar on those last two words.