Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (17 page)

No touching without permission, but how's a girl supposed to resist?

Headed for the ridges of his hard-packed torso…

“What am I going to do about those naughty hands?” Jacques murmured against her neck.

She froze. She broke the rules, but the feel of Jacques's wet skin and the bubbles tickling her palms as they ran over it made it impossible to stop. When Jacques pulled back and flashed a smile, she couldn't resist. She answered with the dirtiest smile she could muster and slid her hands beneath the water to find his very erect cock.

“Oops.”

Those copper eyes screamed,
fabulous!
Then Jacques tsked and gripped her wrists, not too hard, but hard enough to tell her that playing with him had consequences. "You’ve inspired me, my fiery angel. Stand up.”

She stood and,
ooh, delicioso
, the buttery warmth of her vulnerability to Jacques tightened her frame. He turned her to face the side of the Jacuzzi and placed her hands on the rim.

"Keep them there," he demanded.

Bending over her, Jacques snaked his arms around her ribcage and cupped her breasts. His touch alternated between exceedingly gentle and harsh as he sampled her contours, squeezing and grinding, testing their weight. They ached from what he’d already done to her, but the pressure of his palms and the heat of the steam twisted into a wrenching pleasure as he played with her body. Ready to crawl out of her skin with need, she wriggled her bottom against his erection to entice him for more.

Jacques stood and traced light fingertips along her spine. “Playing with fire, are you?"

She heard the warning in his tone, felt the threat it in his touch.

"Sí." She kept her palms firmly planted and waited, wanting to feel Jacques's fire.

A sharp slap landed on her backside.

She’d never been spanked before and certainly shouldn’t like it, but…

“Ooohhhh!” She did.

It was an exquisite pain, almost pleasure and almost not, as if her body couldn’t decide which it would be. When Jacques hit her again, she writhed as the stinging pain merged with the heat and the steam to become pleasure. Definitely pleasure. Scorching, shocking, sublime pleasure.

Jacques sucked a hard breath. “My God, Isabella, I’ve wanted to smack this gorgeous ass since the moment you walked away from me in the gallery." His voice fell to a deeper bass with an edge of growl to it, a dominant rumble that said Jacques liked it rough. "Tell me you want it.”

“Burn me, Jacques.” She gripped the rim of the tub, spreading her legs wider, and arched her back. Her bottom rose and the tips of her breasts fell to skim the hot water. “Spank me, please, I want it so bad.”

“I’ve unleashed a devil,” he chuckled. “A perfect, kinky devil.”

Even though she couldn’t see it, and didn’t dare look, she felt his smile.

Jacques pressed his erection into the crease of her backside. “This is about pleasure. Yours and mine,” he whispered and brought his palm down in a resounding slap at the underside of her bottom right where it met her thigh.

She shivered as he caressed the spot where he’d hit her. Then his fingers slid over the curve of her backside and entered her from behind.

Ahh, the ultimate weak spot.

“You’re soaking, my sexy devil.”

He withdrew and splashed hot water over her already burning flesh. Another smack landed on the other side of her bottom, then another splash of water over her sex. On the third strike, he hit her square on the vagina, lighter, but so, so, so much better. When the water licked her again, she went up on her toes.

The pattern repeated until she was delirious, sore and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. Liking this wasn’t normal, but she wasn’t normal and neither was Jacques. Being with a man like him was transcendent. She closed her eyes and let her decadent lover take her away.

Isabella hadn’t realized that her face was pressed against the marble rim of the tub until she felt Jacques pull up on her shoulders. The heat, the pain, the eroticism of the moment overwhelmed every restraint in her. Turning her head over her shoulder, she thrust her hand back, fisting his hair as hard as she could and yanked him toward her mouth. Their tongues met in a frantic dance, teeth clicking against each other, lips smacking with violent urgency.

She pulled his hair to break the kiss, stared straight into those smoldering eyes and begged. “Fuck me, Jacques. Please. Fuck me to the moon and back.”

She heard him laugh as one steely arm locked tight across her torso, anchoring her back against his chest. “Your wish is my command.”

Jacques corralled her against the wall with his hips. Her palms hit the marble. One hand covered her mound; the other disappeared beneath the bubbles. When he removed the shield of his hand, a jet of warm water shot directly against the weak spot of all weak spots with pounding force. She tried to jerk away, only to have him rear into her from behind. Placing one finger on each side, he opened her secret lips to expose more to the relentless barrage and began to pump into her, awakening yet another weak spot on the inside as the force of his body moved the stimulation of the water, up and down, over the outside.

Isabella felt herself fly away.

Racing to the moon.

*****

Dessert was over around midnight and what do you know? There actually was a full moon when Jacques and Isabella finally sat down for dinner.

“I had a suspicion we might not be eating right away,” Jacques grinned and lifted the dome over the platter in the middle of the table.

Isabella's stomach grumbled as her eyes ran over the hidden fare. Crusty bread, grilled vegetables, a cold assortment of seafood and chocolate dipped strawberries. Her body flushed hot. She would never look at a strawberry again without getting turned on, especially with Jacques sitting within striking distance.

“
Delicioso
.” She rubbed her palms together.

Jacques was laughing, looking gloriously happy and relaxed as he poured their champagne.

I did that.
¡Hurra Isabella!

She lifted the linen napkin from her plate to find something underneath it. “What’s this?” she asked as she lifted it.

“That, my inspirational angel, is the effect you have on people.”

She looked at the piece of paper in her hand. “This is a check to the Meszaros Foundation for…
mierda
, I’ve never seen that many zeroes on a check. Who is Sir Anthony Charles James Gregory Holmgren?”

“A friend who was so inspired by what you do that he wanted to help you do it. You met James at the ball. He made that donation on the condition that you administer the funds. You choose who receives that money, Isabella, or the Foundation has to return it.”

“
Mierda
,” she said again unable to take her eyes off all those zeroes.

“Is that all you’re going to say, potty mouth?” Jacques said, laughing, “I’d rather hear you say you agree.”

“Sir James and I did talk about my work, but I had no idea he would do this.” She waved the check at Jacques. “It’s going to take a long time to spend this much money.”

“The Foundation will pay you for your time, Isabella.”

She was so overwhelmed by the magnitude of Sir James’s generosity that she spoke without thinking. “I don’t want money, Jacques. I’m not sure I will have enough time.”
¡Joder!
Did I just say that?
“Um, I mean, I have to get back to my real life.”

“Are you that anxious to leave me, Isabella?”

“God, no, Jacques,” she muttered, distracted by thoughts of how much Sir James’s donation could help so many people. She could set up an endowment to fund medical bills and open a care center for families to offer full time help with transportation, housing, food, counseling. Absorbed by the mad rush of mental list making, she almost forgot Jacques was there until the most soulful voice she’d ever heard from him reached out across the table.

“Don’t leave me, Isabella.”

She looked up and her breath caught. Copper eyes more captivating that the flames flickering around them seared into her. How could a mere mortal be that handsome?
Jesucristo
, Jacques looked like a god, a sex god that she knew from her aching ass right down to her curling toes, he was. And beneath that gorgeous façade lay a heart of pure gold. It was impossible not to love this man.

Her heart squeezed in her chest.

Santa María, madre de Dios. I do love him! How did this happen? It can't happen.

Don’t leave me, Isabella
. Did Jacques feel the same?

Slow down, Isla. You’re reading too much into his words.

Of course, she was. Jacques was talking about business. Using the voice, the eyes, to make sure the Foundation got its money, but he didn’t really need her. Even if she said no to his request, Sir James wouldn’t deny the Foundation. She could have her fun without saying anything right now and deal with her heartbreak later.

Just one more sad thing to add to my list.

Despite the logic, Isabella didn’t want to test its truth. “You must think I’m not a shrewd negotiator like you, Jacques.” she crooned, trying to move him away from a serious discussion of the future. “If you want something, you’ve got to give something in return. I have four days to see what you’ve got. After that, we’ll talk.” She flicked her hand through the air, waving the check. “Unless you’re not up to the challenge,
Señor
Meszaros Enterprises?”

The predator locked eyes with his prey and answered in a low, confident growl, “Oh, my daring angel, you know that I am.”

Thank God. It worked. Oh, God. It worked!

Isabella squeezed her thighs together beneath the table to hide the instantaneous arousal and lifted her chin in sexy defiance. “Give me your best shot, bad boy, and we’ll see.”

Danger played in his eyes as Jacques raised his glass. “A toast.” He clinked it to hers. “To ‘we’ll see.’”

Saints preserve me. I'm completely outmatched.

12

No Place for Dreams

Without a doubt, I'm in paradise.

Isabella inhaled the dawn’s salty perfume. Soft air spilled over her face. Warm male spooned her body. She opened her eyes as the first hints of pink and orange pushed against the deep blue of the fading night. Expecting to see only sunrise over water, she found a dark figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the coming light. Jerard sat at the end of the chaise hunched on his elbows with his face pressed into both hands. She couldn’t see as much as feel his exhaustion.

“Jerard.”

He turned his face, but didn’t speak. The haunted look in his eyes lured her from beneath the sheet. She was naked, but that was unimportant. Compelled to ease the pain radiating from Jerard, she crawled from her cover of modesty to the broken man sitting on the edge.

Kneeling at his back, she rested her head between his shoulder blades and wrapped her arms around him to pull him close. At first, he stayed stiff, unyielding to her touch, but after a few moments, the tension deflated. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed the back, then pressed it tight against his chest.

The first arc of fire rose above the horizon.

“The sun is rising, Jerard. It’s a new day,” she whispered, hoping he would hear the true meaning behind her words.

Jared shifted his hips and turned his face to her as if he was going to say something, then stopped. He stared with a look of awe that silenced her. His fingers reached for her hair and she watched the loose wisps blow toward him as if yearning for his touch.

“Her hair...” His hands slipped around her head, “…is red.”

Jacques voice came from behind. “The dream isn’t dead, Jerard. It might be different…after everything, but it isn’t dead.”

Isabella didn’t understand the exchange of words or the relevance of her hair color, but she felt the heavy undercurrents of Jacques’s and Jerard’s history whipping around her.

“Try, Jerard. Try to begin again,” Jacques said. The weight in his voice was heart-wrenching. “Begin with a kiss.”

Soulful brown eyes filled with pain drew her in as Jerard’s palms slipped over her jawline to guide her lips to his. A soft press, once and again, so gentle and loving. She melted into his reverence as the little kisses gently rolled into something more demanding.

Isabella was aware that she was kissing another man in front of her new lover, but this didn’t feel dirty or kinky. It felt like love. The bond between Jacques and Jerard wrapped around her and she accepted that she was part of something greater than herself. This moment was a long time in coming and she was somehow pivotal to it. She offered herself to Jerard and he sank deeper.

Jerard may seem to be a gentle man, but something wild lived inside of him. It flowed into her, kindling the nature she’d denied for so long. He pulled her body toward him, crushing her into his chest as his tongue parted her willing lips and pressed inside. Long, slow, wet sweeps met her tongue, filling her with his taste. His hand tightened in her hair, twisting and tugging as if trying to pull her entire body into his. He groaned, locking her in a brutal embrace and almost cruel fingers dug in, trapping her tight against the angles and planes of his straining body.

She felt Jacques shift, the warmth of his hand caressing her calf as Jerard worked his mouth over hers. The delicious decadence of what was coming was pretty clear and she moaned, inviting Jerard to take more.

Inviting both of them to take more.

The fist in her hair yanked her head back, breaking the kiss. The look on Jerard’s face was shocking. Fierce, lustful and utterly devastated. Tears rolled over his cheeks.

“Send her away, Jacques. Please, send her away.” The desperate plea shattered the moment.

“You know I can’t,” Jacques said quietly.

Jerard’s embrace fell away as he stood and the cool morning air devoured his heat.

“I know,” he murmured, the pain in his voice so profound, it was palpable.

Her own tears started as she looked from Jerard to Jacques. It was over. Whatever the dream between them was, it was over, lost behind a wall of addiction that couldn’t be breached.

She turned into Jacques’s chest and wept as Jerard walked away.

*****

It was terrible. A terrible image of the end.

When he talked to Jerard last, he knew he’d been talking to a man hanging from a precipice. He thought Jerard could hold on long enough to get help, to somehow, someway claw his way back, but when he heard Jerard say those two simple words, he realized he’d been wrong. Jerard had fallen into the solitary abyss of his addiction.

Jacques’s eyes stung with tears as he watched his friend walk alone in a darkness even the rising sun couldn’t light.

*****

“Leave, right now, before you hurt him anymore,” Angel Isabella yelled as Isabella chopped and tried to pretend the tears were from the onions. The ones she was mutilating on the cutting board.

“Shut up,” Devil Isabella hollered.

Not much of a comeback. Devil was off her game.

The real Isabella didn’t know what to do as she scraped the mush into the pot. She should leave, but she couldn’t. Jacques was devastated after Jerard left. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Damn her compassionate nature. Why couldn’t she be oblivious to other people’s pain? And if she wanted to be detached, why was she so sad that Jacques shut her out?

“He shut you out because you were never in. It’s fun and games, nothing more. Just enjoy the ride.”

Wow, Devil could be cold, but she was probably right.

“You’re lying to yourself, Isabella Honora Rey,” Angel retorted. When she used the full name, she was really serious. “Beneath that controlled exterior lies a vulnerable heart and you’re going to break it.”

“You think a guy who can have any woman in the world is going to fall in love in a few days? Get real,” Devil chortled.

“Did you close your eyes at the dinner table last night, you demon, or are you just comfortable with lies,” Angel shot right back.

As the girls went at it, Isabella thought about Jacques. Not the sex god in the fantasy, the real man. The one she’d met for the first time only three days ago, but whom she felt she’d known for a lifetime.

“I apologize, Isabella. You deserve better,” he’d said with a kiss to the forehead. Then, he was gone, shut up in his office. Sabin arrived. Without the playboy cowboy routine. He was as serious as the grave as he disappeared behind the closed door. She hadn’t seen either of them in hours.

Left alone, she raided the kitchen in search of coffee and comfort. As she scoured the cupboards, the words of her sweet
abuela
ran through her head,
There’s nothing a good meal can’t fix.

Ah, sí. Paella de mi abuela es perfecta.

Leave it to Jacques to have everything right down to the saffron.
What kind of man keeps lobster and Andouille sausage in his Sub-Zero? Maybe Jacques can cook
. The thought started the waterworks again and the bicker sisters kicked into high gear.

“Do you see what happens when you toy with people? He’s falling in love with you. That's pretty clear and what are you going to do about it?” Angel asked in her most disapproving tone.

“She’s already done it,” Devil cut in. “She’s fallen in love with a man she can’t have. Isn’t that punishment enough?”

They might both be right. Last night when Jacques asked her not to leave him, she tried to pretend he was asking her not to abandon the work of the Foundation. She tried to pretend it was sex burning in his copper eyes. But it wasn’t. He’d let her in and didn’t want to let go. Hell, he’d warned her that a few days might not be enough for him. That seemed like a remote possibility when he said it, but now it was real.

Whether Jacques was to the point of being in love with her, she wasn’t sure. But he was in love with the idea that he could be and she knew exactly what would happen when she slashed his faith in her. That cynical mind would shut down even tighter. His inner demons must be tormenting him enough already for letting his guard down. Hers certainly were. He would convince himself that his detached life as a Dom was enough to sustain him and go on, taking care of everyone else with no one to take care of him.

“Let him take care of you!” Angel’s scream cut into her brain.

“Maybe you should,” Devil murmured.

“No.” Isabella turned on the flame under the pot, adjusting the heat to a low simmer, and boiled over. She collapsed into sobs and let the sorrow flow through her. She had to let the fantasy go and move on. Her sobs thickened. She had to let Jacques go even though she knew she would never “move on.” Monaco changed her. Jacques changed her and she would love him forever.

However long forever turns out to be.

A long time and a huge puddle of tears on the granite later, she felt a hand on her back. “Jacques?” She spun around to find Sabin standing behind her.

“He went to look for Jerard, Isabella.” The empathy in Sabin’s eyes was touching. He was a virtual stranger after all.

“I was cutting onions,” she muttered as she swiped her face. Maybe Sabin wouldn’t notice the wet countertop.

“If you say so, darlin’.” He walked to the refrigerator, pulled out two bottles of beer, handed one to her and sat. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just take a load off.”

A girl doesn’t live with four overprotective brothers and not recognize that ruse. “He told you not to leave, didn’t he?”

“Yup.”

“Look, Sabin. I was just having a girl moment. It’s nothing. You don’t have to stay,” she said as if the words would have an effect.

He sipped his beer. “Drink.”

Isabella grumbled and took a sip, then another. Sabin sat back, eyeing her and sipping his beer. She knew the look. He was waiting her out, letting the alcohol loosen her tongue until she fessed up. Sabin topped six feet of sinewy muscle. No way she could out drink him. She was already woozy from one beer.

Oh, what can it hurt?
Squaring her shoulders, she looked him straight in the eye. “I have a problem at home. It’s personal and I have to deal with it myself so don’t ask me twenty questions.”

He took another sip and nodded once in tacit agreement.

“And don’t tell, Jacques either.”

“Won’t promise you that, darlin’.”

“Fine, then I’m not talking.”

Those eyes sharpened on her. “We all need someone to talk to, Isabella. Sometimes it’s easier with someone you don’t know so well.” He put a hand over his heart. “I swear, I won’t confide one word of what you say to me in this room, but Jacques should know that something is upsetting you. Is it him?”

“Partly, but it’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

“You’re falling for him.” It wasn’t a question. Sabin eased back and put his feet on the counter. “Don’t deny your heart, Isabella.”

Okay, that was not the typical guy answer. He should have said something like, “don’t rush things” or “be careful, you’ll get hurt.” Unless…

“Tell me he’s not falling for me, please, Sabin.”

“You speak boy,” he said, laughing, a dangerously sexy laugh, she might add. “I’m missing the problem.”

No admission, but no denial either. Damn.
“I can’t stay with him.”

“Because of your problem at home?”

She nodded and took a sip. Beer was not her drink, but it tasted really good. She finished the bottle.

“And you think you can handle this problem on your own?”

She struck her most authoritative pose and glared. “Just because I can be a lover to someone like Jacques, doesn’t mean that I’m weak.”

“You’ve got that one ass backward, darlin’,” Sabin said with a smile. “The fact that you can be a lover to someone like Jacques means you’re the opposite of weak.”

“Jacques kind of told me that too, but…”

“Look, Isabella, you’re new to the life. You’ve let all those voices fill your head with ideas of what you should be, how you should act, what’s appropriate, what’s moral. It will take time to shut all that bullshit out, but keep one thing in mind. Guys like Jacques and I love strength. Need it, in fact.”

“Because if a woman isn’t strong, what’s the value of her submission,” she parroted Jacques’s words, wondering how Jacques and his friends seemed to be able to read her so easily.

“Exactly. You’re strong. Very strong. You have nothing to prove to anyone who thinks otherwise. Another?”

Without waiting for an answer, Sabin got up and opened the fridge. They drank their second beer in silence, then he took another trip across the tile. As he handed her a bottle, he said, “You’re something else too.”

“Pathetic,” she mumbled.

He looked her deep in the eyes with a small shake of his head. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Jacques said that too.”

“Of course, he did. He listens to me and I am brilliant, after all.” He gave her a teasing grin.

In the face of that concerned stare, Isabella found herself talking. “I don’t have the strength to face this, Sabin. I know what I have to do, but I don’t have the strength and I can’t turn to the people who care about me. I’m frozen.”