Карлан Одри

February (Calendar Girl #2)

February: Calendar Girl

Book 2

By Audrey Carlan

Text copyright © 2015 Audrey Carlan

ISBN Electronic

ISBN-10: 0-9909143-6-4

ISBN-13: 978-0-9909143-6-5

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic format without expressed permission by the author.

Dedication

Jeananna Goodall

One year ago, I released my first novel.

Since the first one, you’ve been my cheerleader,

beta reader, and number one fan.

Now, I’m honored to call you my friend.

You love my characters as if they were your own,

and keep me connected to them emotionally.

You have many gifts and talents,

I’m so grateful you share them with me.

Love and light.

Chapter 1

The twisted and rusted iron gates of the ancient elevator clanged loudly together as the driver pulled them down, locking them in place. He hadn’t uttered a word other than, “You Mia?” when I came down the escalator at Seattle -Tacoma International Airport baggage claim. I figured it was safe to follow him since he had a sign with my full name on it, and Aunt Millie told me to expect a giant lumberjack of a man to drive me to my next client. The giant part was no joke, and it wasn’t his height. The guy stood only a couple inches taller than me, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in width. Reminded me of a pro wrestler or one of those beefy body builders.

Once the elevator made it to the tenth floor, it came to a screeching, grinding halt, jolting me into Paul Bunion’s baby brother. He was a solid wall, didn’t even flinch when I bumped into him, just grunted like an animal. The giant doors opened and Bunion pulled open the gates and ushered me into what seemed to be an open warehouse. The rafters and piping were visible and no less than thirty feet above the concrete floor. People were milling around everywhere, half of them naked.

What the fuck did I get myself into?

Cameras were clicking, lighting units and reflectors were being moved around on wheeled carts as I stood in the entryway attempting to take it all in. Bunion set my bag off to a sidewall and pointed to a man crouched down, a camera glued to his face. “Mr. Dubois,” he grumbled, then abruptly turned around and entered the elevator we’d just exited leaving me to fend for myself.

“Man of few words.” I let a slow breath leave my too-full lungs. I didn’t know what to do. Should I sit off to the side and wait for someone to approach me—hopefully not the naked men and women scattered around—or should I bug the guy busily taking pictures of something I couldn’t quite see?

Instead of waiting, I decided to take better stock of my surroundings and walked around. The room was an open loft but not a home. Rickety windows lined the walls on the right, some opened from the bottom out, others were closed tight. It looked like it took a crank to open them, which I found incredibly cool and retro. Naked and half naked women passed by me, sizing me up as they moved in front of giant white canvases. They weren’t really modeling, they were just standing next to the canvases, each model loosely holding a pose while attendants, dressed in black, were perfecting the poses with subtle shifts of an elbow here or moving a foot there. Then the attendant would back up and take a single photo and start over again. Tiny movements again, then another picture. It was downright weird.

I moved over to another area where there was a naked couple lying on a huge white canvas that had to be at least ten by ten feet in size. One of the attendants climbed up a small ladder that had a platform directly over their bodies and methodically poured what looked to be bright blue paint over every inch of them. “Don’t move!” he screamed. “We’ll have to start all over, and Mr. Dubois won’t be pleased,” he added tightly. The couple stayed in a naked clinch, the female model’s hands wrapped around the male’s head as if she was about to kiss him. His arms were around her, one on her ass holding a leg over his hip, the other cupping the back of her head.

Paint dripped down their legs and fell into globs on the canvas. “Still,” the man warned. I was so fascinated by the inner workings of the odd scene in front of me that I didn’t hear a person walk up behind me until my hair was swept off my neck.

“Perfection,” I heard whispered against my ear before a soft kiss hit the bare skin at the curve where my shoulder and neck met.

I shuffled back, not looking where I was going, just trying to get away from the stranger touching me when I bumped into something behind me. Before I could turn, my boot caught the edge of the canvas, and I went toppling into the platform, which held the irritated guy with the paint. Then, utter chaos ensued. The man holding the bucket went tumbling forward, and blue, sticky paint flew out of the can into a fan of color before splashing down onto the canvas and tarp protecting the concrete.

The couple beneath must have seen the fall coming, because the man rolled the hot naked chick as if he’d been trained in combat services with the armed forces. He avoided the attendant, missed being doused with more paint, and narrowly escaped the platform that was about to fall on top of them.

I wasn’t so lucky.

When I fell backward, my other heel went through the thick canvas and stuck, and my body curved around in the opposite direction. I screamed out as my ankle twisted painfully, and I landed ass-over-tits into blue paint and torn canvas.

“Sweet Jesus!” The man I tried to get away from stepped into the mess and pulled me up by the armpits. His golden brown eyes were mesmerizing and worried. Small lines at the corners of each eye revealed he was probably a good decade older than I. Sandy brown hair with hints of russet gold and red streaked through in natural highlights was pulled tight into a small bun at the back of his head. A sculpted jaw and full lips were rimmed with perfectly trimmed facial hair. I’d never dated a man with a beard, but standing in front of this man, strong arms holding me close to a very tall and muscular frame, I couldn’t fathom why I never had. He was drop dead gorgeous. Reminded me of Ben Affleck only way hotter.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw you standing there, and your beauty was far beyond the likes of any mere model. I had to press my lips against your golden skin. You must be My Mia,” he said with admiration. His caramel gaze scanning my features from the tips of my hair down to my spike-heeled boots. I would be tossing those boots the minute I could remove them from my rapidly swelling ankle.

A quick test by placing the ball of my injured foot to the ground sent pain ripping through my ankle and shooting up my leg. I cried out and gripped the man’s forearms, digging my nails into his flesh. “Oh my, you’re really hurt!”

“Ya think?” I rolled my eyes as he used his long arms to swoop me under the knees into a princess style carry and rushed me over to an arched loveseat. Only it wasn’t a love seat, it had a curved back that started high on one end then came down low on the other. It was the type of furniture you’d see in old romantic movies where the damsel in distress would faint perfectly onto it; hand over her forehead slumping down with a pretty sigh. Me, I was gritting my teeth and ready to bite anyone that even so much as shifted my leg.

“I’ll call a medic!” One of the ever-present men in black said to the stranger, who, by then, I’d surmised was my client.

“No, ce n'est pas nécessaire,” he said in rapid French. “Contact 3B. She’s a doctor and a friend,” he said his eyes boring into mine. “You’ll be fine, Mia,” he assured me, and when he spoke with that slight accent I may have actually swooned; a definite clench occurred between my thighs. Men with accents were deadly sexy. Then again, it could have been the pain raging through my limb that had me clenching. I was pretty sure it was the former.

Within moments, a tiny speck of a woman rushed in holding what looked to be an old-fashioned medical doctor’s bag. She introduced herself and helped me slide off my boot without jarring the leg. She may have been a miracle worker. A snicker could be heard over my shoulder as the doctor was prodding my ankle. I looked over at my client whom I knew to be Alec Dubois, though we hadn’t actually exchanged pleasantries yet.

“What?”

“Your socks. Positively enchanting, ma jolie,” he finished in French, which sounded sexy as hell but pissed me off even more, because I didn’t know what it meant. Could be anything like klutz, or moron, but I’d never know. I looked down at my Christmas socks and then at the doctor. Her lips curved up, but she stayed completely professional as she checked my ankle. Her, I liked; the jury was still out on hunky French camera guy.

“Well, it’s not broken. You’ve got a slight sprain. I’ll wrap it, but keep off it as much as possible, and you’ll be good as new in a couple weeks. You’ll need to rest it, ice it, elevate above your heart and keep it wrapped. I suggest getting some crutches,” she said and my shoulders sagged in defeat. I hated crutches. The entire world hated crutches. They sucked. Bad. I was not looking forward to the skin around my underarms being worn raw or feeling bruised, along with the bum ankle, especially on a new job. I wondered if he’d want a refund on his purchase. A moment of panic shredded through my heart thinking about my dad and how I’d get the next installment to Blaine if French guy didn’t want me now that I was damaged.

“I’ll take perfect care of you, ma jolie. You needn’t worry for a thing,” Alec sat down next to me placing an arm protectively around my waist sliding me close, so close it was as if he’d know me for years not moments. He definitely had some serious space invasion issues. Even so, it felt nice and helped relieve the fear that he was going to send me home.

“Retournez au travail,” His obvious instruction was punctuated with some arm movements before he lifted me as if I weighed nothing.

“What does that mean? And what are you doing?” I clung to his shoulders so as not to fall while he walked towards the elevator.

“Taking you home so you can rest. You must be tired after traveling. And now, with a sore ankle, you need to lie down.” His eyes were kind as he looked at me. “And before, I told my crew to get back to work,” his accent was stronger now, but it was obvious he’d been in the US a long time. His English was perfect.

I huffed but hung on. “This is so weird. I’m sorry about the painting and the mess, and now I’ve busted my ankle and I’m supposed to be this spectacular muse.”

“Oh, you are most spectaculaire, the finest features, and your face in two is a perfect mirror image,” he said as if this was the most astonishing news, though I didn’t really understand.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean by a mirror image.”

One of Alec’s men in black followed us into the elevator carrying my single suitcase and pressed button twelve, which was the highest number on the panel. He didn’t answer my question as we exited the elevator, and he carried me into another wide-open loft. It was the same size as the level we were on before, only this was complete with a kitchen, living space, and a set of stairs that I assumed led to a raised loft bedroom. There weren’t any walls, other than in the corner with a door. If I was a betting woman, which I am—my dad taught me everything he knew about gambling—I’d bet that door led to a single bathroom.

He brought me to that door, and yep, it was a bathroom. I hopped on one foot to the sink when he let me go. Out of thin air, my bag appeared, and Alec rifled through it, pulling out a shirt and a pair of pajama shorts.

“Here, put these on. I’ll get a bag for your clothes.” Within moments he returned and handed me a garbage bag.

“You’ll be okay?” he asked, a hand curled around the door knob.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I could feel my cheeks heat as he shut the door.

Stupid, stupid, stupid klutz! As quickly as possible I trashed the jeans and shirt covered in paint and put on the shirt and shorts. Once done, I washed off as much paint as I could see. I’d need a full shower, but right now, I needed to settle things with my client, gauge his mood, see if he was angry with me.

When I opened the bathroom door he was there and swept me into his arms again.

“Ooophf!” I gasped as he carried me then sat me down on a plush velvet sectional in the deepest purple known to man. So dark it was almost black, though if you ran your hand over it, the fibers shifted and left a much lighter eggplant shade. Once I was situated comfortably, foot on the ottoman in front of me, Alec lifted his leg and straddled the ottoman, pulling my sore ankle into his lap. I leaned forward and held my leg at the sides not knowing how to respond to a man who touched with abandon.

“Now, your question, about mirror images?”

I nodded and bit my lip. He lifted a hand and with one finger traced the center of my face from the hairline at my forehead, over my nose, down between my lips and stopping at my chin. A shiver rippled through me at his heated touch, or was it the sultry way he looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Wes looked at me like that. Hell, Wes made me feel that way. A pang of guilt needled at me, but I shoved it away. Wes and me, we were not an item. Friends with benefits absolutely…with the hope of more. One day. Maybe. Not today.

“If you cut your face down the middle here,” he traced my face again with the pad of his finger, his eyes seemingly lost in his task, “each side would mirror the other.”

I frowned. “So would anyone’s.”

His hand cupped my cheek, long fingers twining through the dark tresses to cup the back of my nape. “Yes, ma jolie, but they would not be symmetrical. Your face, it’s perfection. Equal on both sides. Neither better nor worse than the other. It’s unusual. Astonishing. You are unique,” Alec’s faced dipped close and he pressed a warm kiss to each cheek. “Tomorrow, we start work, oui? Today, you rest.” He placed my swollen ankle onto the ottoman after setting a pillow under it. “I must work now,” he said moving around as if he was already distracted by the tasks ahead.

Interesting guy, Alec Dubois.

***

For the entire afternoon, not willing to brave the stairs up to the loft on one leg, I hobbled around, took a nap on the couch, called my best friend, Ginelle, and checked in with Aunt Millie. Both Gin and Aunt Millie found it hysterical that I’d twisted my ankle and was stuck at the mercy of a hot French artist guy. Gin called me a lucky bitch and Aunt Millie just ended her call with a “Have fun doll-face.”

The door of the elevator dinged, and I could hear the metal scraping as the gates were opened. I couldn’t see anything from my position on the couch, but I didn’t have to wait long. Alec strode through the room carrying crutches and a white takeout bag that smelled deliciously like Chinese food. Without delay, Alec set the food on the coffee table, leaned the crutches on the side of the couch, then came to my side where he sat.

Before I could open my mouth he’d cupped both sides of my neck, his thumbs on the apples of my cheeks where he proceeded to kiss each cheek. His lips were warm and left an impression long after he’d moved back to stare into my eyes. “How are you, ma jolie?”

“Uh, fine, I guess,” I blinked and he smiled. “What does ma jolie mean?”

Alec’s lips curved at the edge as he cocked his head to the side. His hand reached out and pushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead, past my temple and behind my ear. The air around us was thick, filled with the promise of something I couldn’t yet name. “It translates to ‘my pretty’ in English.”

“Oh, okay,” I whispered not capable of looking away from those tawny-colored eyes.

“Hungry?” he asked, his Rs rolling delectably.

I nodded. My throat felt dry as I watched him stand, enter the kitchen and bring back some plates and serving utensils before coming back to sit too close to me. One entire side of his body was plastered against mine. If I moved away, it would be obvious, and I didn’t want to make another bad impression on my new client, so instead I endured his warmth. And his scent. That smell would be my demise. It was a mixture of fresh paint and Hugo Boss. The only reason I even knew that scent was because I’d once worked as a spray girl in the local shopping mall in Vegas. They had me spraying all kinds of crap. So much so you left working smelling like a bag of potpourri. Hugo Boss had a yummy male smell that seemed to arrow through my nostrils and land bullseyed between my legs.

With effort, I tried to scooch over a bit. Alec just looked at me and winked then finished plating the Chow Mein and Kung Pao. “I hope you like Chinese food,” he offered the plate to me.

I gripped it greedily, brought it close my face, closed my eyes, and inhaled the heavenly mix of chicken, sauces and noodles steaming on the plate. The food smelled so good my mouth watered, and I moaned then dug in. When I looked up, Alec had stopped plating his own food and was staring at me. What I saw almost made me choke. Those eyes of his were blazing hot, his lust plainly visible. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“You are startlingly beautiful.” He touched the side of my cheek and cupped it. Inadvertently, I curved my face further into his palm, sealing the connection. It had only been a few days, but I missed a man’s touch. Alec traced my bottom lip with his thumb then his voice turned husky. “Tu est le cadeau de Dieu au monde.”

“What does that mean?”

“‘God’s gift to the world.’ That’s what you are. And I intend for everyone to glory in such a gift.”

A gift. Alec thinks I’m a gift to the world. A beautiful one.

I wasn’t able to respond. Not when he set aside the making of his dinner. Not when he took my plate and set it on the table. Not when he leaned into my space until we were a scant couple inches apart. But I did respond the moment my frazzled brain registered his kiss.

Warm, supple, and sweet. His lips brushed mine before he sucked in my bottom lip and ran his tongue along the sensitive tissue. That was as far as it got before I gripped his neck and pulled him further into me. My fingers tunneled into his hair. When I encountered a hair tie, that just wouldn’t do. I pulled on that tie until it snapped and lemon-scented, thick hair tumbled in waves against my cheeks, shrouding our kiss in the haven of his luscious locks.  Alec cupped my chin and turned my head to the side, sliding his tongue in and out, learning what made me tick, moan, and bite. And I did. Bite that is. I nipped at his lips like a starving animal would a steak. He didn’t seem to mind. At one point, I was pretty certain he growled—yes, growled—into the kiss taking it impossibly deeper.

Excitement roared through my body, and I tensed, wanting to bring Alec closer, needing him to be. As I was trying to lean back on the couch so he could get on top of me, he pulled back. His forehead rested against mine. “Très jolie fille,” he whispered in the language that was quickly becoming a major turn-on. Not that it wasn’t before, but after having his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his words caressed along my senses as easily as I imagined his touch would. With purpose, with desire, with lust.

“Calm chérie.” His tone was a murmur and a balm over the heat burning inside. “There would be plenty of time for us to know each other physically. I want to enjoy you, anticipate your sweet taste on my tongue, your smooth skin along the pads of my fingers, your body on my canvas.”

I pulled back and our gazes held. “Wow.” I bit my lip and swallowed. He grinned.

“I do believe ‘wow’ is an understatement. Let’s eat. Get to know one another on all levels. Only then will the physical manifestation of our joining be as sweet.

Alec Dubois was bizarre. Who the hell even talks like that? ‘A physical manifestation of our joining?’ He may have spent too much time reading Ask Jeeves online.

“You’re a weird guy,” I said before grabbing my plate, setting it on my lap and shoveling in a giant bite of noodles. Pure heaven! Almost as good as the kiss we’d shared moments ago.

Alec tipped his head back and burst into laughter. See, totally weird dude.

He grabbed his plate, loaded it up and leaned back, set his feet next to mine on the ottoman, turned his head to the side and looked at me. “Oh my sweet, you have no idea, but soon you will. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 2

That evening, after being filled to the brim with the best Chinese food I’d ever had, Alex carried me up to the loft and settled me on his bed. He didn’t have another room in the converted warehouse as far as I could tell. Regardless, he didn’t assume we’d be sleeping together, even after our kiss. All of which I was grateful for. I needed the evening to find myself in this new world.

It was difficult for me no longer being in Wes’s Malibu home hidden away in the hillside and snug as a bug in a rug in my bed of clouds. No, I was deposited onto a firm, but comfortable, king size bed and surrounded by cool tones and textures. Soft blue, Heather grey, and a few midnight tones interspersed. The bed sat on a small platform with a solid wood headboard no footboard but plenty of pillows to allow the user maximum relaxation. There were very few pieces of furniture in the space. A sleek, boxy five-drawer dresser, two minimalistic nightstands, one with a lamp, the other with a stack of books. I scanned the titles and noted several of them were in French. A few even had library seals with numbers that denoted an indexing system. I guess Frenchie liked to read and had a library card. Something about that made me smile on the inside as much as the outside.

So far, Alec had been mostly a gentleman. He’d not sent me packing when I twisted my ankle and had been very doting since dinner last night. Even though he had a distracted air about him, when he focused on me, really looked at me, he gave me everything. A girl could get used to being looked at as if the world around her had stopped moving. Then of course, there was that kiss. Shivers of excitement tingled down my spine remembering those warm lips. His tongue, knowing exactly how to tickle and taste, was a nice surprise. The fact that he kissed me at all was a surprise but not by much. I mean, the guy spent a lot of time in my space. He’d touched me more in one day than pretty much anyone ever did in a day, including Wes, and I know Wes really liked touching me.

Wes.

Nope, not gonna let myself go down that path. We agreed to be friends and move on from here. He knows I need to do what I need to do to save my dad, and I won’t be doing it while abstaining. That’s just not me. Once I’d gotten a taste of that heat, the passion like Wes gave to me—I craved it. Needed it. Felt bereft without it. My guess is it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, howl in pain for a few seconds and it’s done. Ready to hop on a new cowboy and ride, so to speak. And that’s exactly what I planned to do. There’s chemistry between Alec and me, that’s for certain. Based on that kiss alone, he’d be good in bed, and the way he spoke, it was a given in his mind as well. Time to have fun. Enjoy myself.

At some point in the night, Alec placed my crutches on the wall near the bed. I looked around then hopped to the clothes in the small closet. All men’s clothes hung on the hangers. Nothing frilly, girly or pink in sight. Huh. Part of my contract was to provide me with the appropriate clothing needed for the month’s stay. Wonder where he put all my stuff? I opened each dresser drawer methodically, scanning the contents. Men’s boxer briefs, socks, pajama pants, t-shirts and jeans. Nothing for me.

My suitcase was also delivered sometime in the evening, so I pulled out a pair of clean jeans and a Radiohead concert tee. Thinking back, Ginelle and I had rocked out so hard and screamed so loud at that concert we couldn’t speak the next day. We didn’t care, Tom York was crazy talented and when a band like Radiohead comes to Vegas, I did whatever it took to get tickets.

Once I got dressed, I put on one sneaker and left the other foot wrapped and socked for the day. At the top of the stairs, I sat on my ass, let my crutches slide down the stairs and used the strength in my arms and my bum to get down the stairs without hurting my foot. I felt damned good about the process.

“Hey! I would have helped you down ma jolie.” Alec came around the kitchen bar and over to me. My mouth dropped wide open. Alec was wearing loose plaid pajama bottoms and nothing else. His chest was golden, ripped, and on full display. A veritable feast for the eyes. His hair was long, wavy and came down to his shoulders. The colors were mesmerizing hues of brown, russet and gold. He walked over to me as if in slow motion. The muscles of his abdomen bunched as he leaned down to help get me settled with my crutches. I placed a hand around his waist and felt nothing but sinewy muscle.

Sweet Mother of God I was in so much trouble.

He helped me get settled with my crutches and led me to a barstool in the kitchen. Once I was seated, he turned around, and I couldn’t contain the burst of air that left my lungs. Alec turned to the side and his eyes caught what I was staring at, positively drooling over. On the left side of his back from his shoulder blade and curling around his ribcage was a giant black tattoo. It was a swirl of words written in French.

“Your tattoo...it’s...” I stared in awe at a loss for words. “It’s…beautiful,” I finally finished. Alec went to the stove, and in a cool trick move, cracked two eggs with one hand into a frying pan. For a moment, I wondered if I could get him to teach me how to do it before our month was up.

“Merci,” he answered cracking another couple eggs into the pan. Next to the eggs he plopped several strips of bacon into another frying pan. Instantly the bacon started popping and sizzling.

“What does it say?”

He pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear and moved about his kitchen half naked very much at ease. I watched his body move as he reached for a ceramic, multicolored mug hanging from a hook then filled it with coffee. “It’s a poem from Jacques Prévert a French writer. He wrote it in 1966.” Alec pointed to the coffee in front of him. “Cream or sugar?”

“Both please,” I responded. He finished up my cup, set it in front of me, then went back, flipped the eggs and turned the bacon.

“Do you mind me asking what the poem says?” I sipped my coffee trying to hide behind the large mug.

He licked his lips, leaned against the side of the counter and crossed his bare feet at the ankles. Jesus the man was fine. Wes was good looking but this man is no slouch. The two were polar opposites. Where Wes was light, Alec is dark and vice versa. They seemed to have the exact opposites in every aspect, right down to Alec’s dark hair, mustache and beard to Wes’s clean shaven yet sometimes scruffy chin.

“It’s most of a poem about people viewing Witold’s paintings. Roughly it translates to:

The mystery of everyday people

Painted with love in the furtive silence

And the obsessive noise of the street.

You follow their progress,

But you have only the back view of them, and like them,

You will give a back view to other visitors

Who will take your place in front of the paintings.

“It reminds me that many will look at my art, the images I capture or paint, and sometimes, part of the experience will be when another person captures that person viewing my art. It changes what they see. So now, the art is viewed in a way that the person standing in front of it, becomes part of it.”

I thought on what he said for a moment. “That’s deep.”

Alec shook his head and smiled, then slid the eggs and bacon onto plates. He set one in front of me. “Eat up, ma jolie. We have a full day in the loft ahead of us.”

“Speaking of full days, where are my clothes?” I asked around a mouth full of eggs.

He leaned over the opposite side of the island and bit into a slice of bacon. His eyebrows furrowed. “What clothes?”

“The clothes.” I flailed a hand into the air. “You know, whatever you want me to wear while I’m here. That’s supposed to be provided…” I let the rest just fall off. It made me uncomfortable talking about our contract.

Alec grinned a full cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, then set his hands wide on to the counter leaning closer to me. “Ma jolie, there aren’t clothes for you to wear because I don’t plan on having you wear anything while you’re here. You are my muse, and I want to see your body, curves and angles as much as humanly possible.”

I blinked, opened my mouth, closed it, then blinked again. He couldn’t be serious. “You want me to walk around naked? All the time?”

“Oui,” he stated plainly as if the question didn’t hold the entire weight of the world on it like it did for me.

“‘Oui?’ That’s all you got for me?” I set down my fork and it clanged loudly against the plate. “You think I’m going to walk around here,” again the arms went flying, “without so much as a stitch of clothing on?”

Alec’s eyebrows narrowed once more. “Are you uncomfortable with your body, ma jolie?”

“Fuck. I cannot believe this!” I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “No, I’m not uncomfortable with my body, well, not really. I could do to lose a few pounds, but I don’t know one person who’s comfortable walking around in their birthday suit all day long.”

“Hmm, this poses a slight problem then. I am certain we’ll work through this. Finish up your breakfast, we need to get to the loft. I need to do some stills of you before the light changes and then start with the paint.” He shoved the last bite of his breakfast into his mouth while walking over to the sink. He rinsed his plate and set the dish in the dishwasher. “I shall get ready. We’ll discuss more later, oui?”

“Oui,” I said with a purpose-based sarcastic tone. He shook his head and rushed up the stairs. In a flash, he’d grabbed whatever clothing he intended to wear and headed to the bathroom. Seconds later, I could hear the shower going and the old pipes of the warehouse working overtime.

He wanted me naked all the time. Just like I thought, bizarre dude. I rolled my eyes and clenched my teeth. He didn’t really answer me, just said we had a problem, effectively changed the subject, then bailed. Day two was not looking any better than day one. Well, I did get to see his beautiful body half-naked. That was pleasant and definitely edged day two over day one’s falling and embarrassing episode. Even though last night’s kiss could go to war against today’s annoying I-want-you-naked-at-all-times load of crap, I did not plan to walk around naked. That was in no way part of my contract or anything else I’d agreed to. I’d read through that contract on the plane and nowhere in there did it say, ‘Mia willfully agrees to run around stark naked for a month.’ Lunatic!

***

After breakfast, Alec led me back down to the lower level workspace. “So you own both floors then?” I asked while following him through the workspace. Surprisingly enough, there were only a couple people milling about and it was eight in the morning. Maybe they didn’t work a standard eight to five job.

“Yes, this is my work space; the other, as you know, is my home. I like to be close to my home. Sometimes I work well into the night and morning. When I want to end my day, I don’t want to have to drive across town to do it. This way I’m just a short elevator ride up.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Where is everyone?” I slumped into the chair he pushed out in front of me. Before us, about ten feet away, was a brightly lit area and two blank canvases hanging on the wall. One was about six feet wide by four feet tall. The other was a good six feet tall and four feet wide. So basically the same size only one was horizontal the other vertical.

“Creative day. I don’t need much assistance today. Only you, my camera and paint, all of which I have in front of me.”

“Cool,” I looked around. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“We’ll start with test shots. I’ll need you to stand in front of the horizontal painting.” He helped me to stand then scooped me up and walked me over to another chair that had been placed in front of the wall. On the floor under my twisted ankle was a pillow. He stood me next to the chair so I was using the back of it to bear weight on that side of my body. “The pillow is in case you need to place your foot down. I don’t want you placing it on hard concrete and further injuring it. This should help, oui?”

I smiled wide. “Yes, thank you, Alec. Just do whatever you need to do. I’m fine, perfectly comfortable,” I assured him.

He moved around the space and over to a tripod then adjusted the lights. “Okay, now remove your t-shirt. Leave the undergarment on, for now, I only need to see the angles and shapes of your shoulders, arms, neck, sides, of your upper body.”

Taking a deep breath I bit down on my lip then lifted my shirt and flung it aside. “Okay, Frenchie, but it’s gonna cost you,” I warned.

“I’m well aware of the expense,” he said behind his camera. The second I removed my shirt the camera started clicking.

I stood stock still in my black lace bra. It covered me completely, no more skin showing than a bikini top would, but still, I was nervous. Over the years I’d done a bit of acting and hoped to do more but never really spent any time modeling. Never thought I had the body for it.

“Impressionnant,” Alec mumbled in French. That one sounded like a compliment, so I kept quiet and let him do his thing. “You’re doing fine,” he said.

A breath of air left me in a huff. “How is that possible? I’m not doing anything but standing here.”

“With your beauty, it’s enough. Besides, these are test shots for positioning, lighting, and such.” After a few more clicks he came over to me. “Are you tired of standing?”

“A little,” I said, because I was. It was harder than it looked to balance on one foot even if I had a chair to use.

We took a break, and he brought me some water and a blanket. I used the blanket to shield my nakedness. Then he had me back up, only this time, he had me throw my head over and ruffle my hair then bring it back up. I did this a couple times until he felt it was just so. I thought it was just messy and ratty, but he seemed to want the ratty, wild hair.

“Your colors are perfection, ma jolie.” He walked over to a table, and brought over a paint brush and a small can of paint. The paint was cherry red. “This is going to feel strange but I’m going to apply this paint to your lips. It is not toxic.”

“Sure, whatever you gotta do. It’s your dime.”

He shook his head and chuckled. I smiled but then made a poufy-lipped face while he delicately painted my lips. It glistened brightly and seemed to have a plastic-like quality to it. When he was done, he fluffed my hair a few more times and walked back to his camera.”

“Now, Mia, think of something sad. Something that hurts your heart…very bad. Maybe even think of something you are missing, oui?”

I didn’t want to mess up my lips so I just looked off into the distance and thought of Wes. What was he doing right now? Who was he with? Did he miss me? What if he was standing half naked in front of someone else? Those thoughts were too tortured, and I tried to change gears. Only God knows why, but I thought of my dad. I hadn’t seen him in a month. He was still in a coma without his daughter sitting by his side. That thought hit me straight in the heart.

“Mia!” Alec said sharply and I turned my head so fast I blinked. A lone tear slipped down my cheek. The camera clicked. “Got it,” he said softly. I whisked away the remaining tears that were on the cusp of falling.

“We done?” My voice cracked when he handed me a wet cloth.

“For this part of the project, yes, we are done. You may wash off the paint and have a rest. I’ll get your shirt.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a little flustered and a lot emotional.

Once we finished and I was dressed, we sat side by side and looked out one of the rickety windows down to the Seattle street below. A light rain was pelting against the asphalt, and people rushed around to avoid getting soaked.

“What is this picture we’re working on now?”

“You mean, what is the name of the piece?”

I nodded but stayed silent looking out over the wet street.

“No Love For Me.”

Of course. It should be my fucking theme song. “I’m ready to get back to work.”

Alec led me over to the canvas once more. No words were spoken when I removed my shirt, fluffed my hair and got into position.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“What’s next?” I asked with a renewed focus.

“We find you love of course.”

Chapter 3

Day three of being with Alec brought me back into the loft. Last night, we returned from a long day of shooting stills in what felt like a million subtly different poses. We’d even skipped lunch; apparently, when the muse strikes, one takes advantage. Objectively, when a woman removes the top half of her clothes and you’re a hetero male, it’s not too far a leap to think the muse is going to go haywire. All men are pigs in one way or another. This one just happened to be masquerading as a hot artist guy Frenchman.

Gotta admit though, it was totally working for me. I was dying to get my hands on him. Anywhere. His hair, especially his hair. Long waves of russet and gold that fell perfectly to his shoulders. Tall, muscled frame with a narrow waist had me salivating for the second day in a row. Unfortunately for me, Alec was a workaholic to the extreme. After we finished in the loft and came back to his loft, we ate pizza for dinner, and he was off to the loft to work on the image he’d done that day. Didn’t even come home before I went to bed alone…again. It irked me that he hadn’t so much as tried anything other than that single kiss. I was primed and ready to take the next step. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid so to speak. To stop thinking about Wes and the surfboard keychain that held the key to his front door and his heart.

Today, Alec wasn’t waiting for me in the kitchen. Once I’d butt-scooched down the stairs, I’d expected to find him up and making me breakfast like yesterday. Not so. What I did find was a note in his slanted male penmanship sitting by the coffee pot. It said:

Ma jolie

,

Meet me at downstairs when you’re ready. There is much to do.

~A

I ate a banana and had a cup of coffee before making my way on the crutches to the elevator and down to the loft. Today was far busier than the previous day. Again, there were several men in black scurrying around doing this or that, taking pictures, probably those boring test stills. I was glad that Alec personally did the test shots with me. At least that way I had someone I could talk to. The men in black had an issue with the models speaking. Every few minutes I’d hear a shush or “still” or “quiet” from one side of the room or another. Even though it was all very strange, it was quite interesting to see the inner workings of a world-renowned artist as he perfected his art and managed the minions doing the grunt work.

“Finally, you’re here,” one of his men in black approached on a huff. He gripped my arm and tried to pull me along faster than my crutches would allow.

As I struggled to keep up, my crutch’s rubber end hit a wire trailing across the concrete floor. It hit it at a weird angle that caused me to tilt forward and nearly put all my weight onto my sprained ankle. I swayed precariously, but caught myself midair by balancing on the crutches. That was it! I’d had it. Thoroughly irritated, I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “Watch it, dude. You’re about to get a crutch up your ass if you don’t quit pulling on my arm. I’m not your dog on a leash.” I pointed the crutch at his face and swung it around. “Back off!”

“Que se passe-t-il?” came an agitated voice behind us. Alec stood, hands on hips, a twisted, angry look marring his features. He looked lethal, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. “What is the meaning of this?” he finally spoke in English.

“Mr. Dubois, your model was not being speedy and you were expecting her an hour ago,” the minion replied. An hour ago? Screw that! If he wanted me to get up early, he should have set an alarm, maybe even have found interesting ways to wake me. Since he didn’t, I was not taking the blame.

“Imbécile,” he murmured loud enough for the two of us to hear but not loud enough for the growing audience building around us. “Do you have poor sight?”

The man scrunched his nose and his head whipped back. “Sight? As in can I see?”

“Are you deaf too?”

This time the man took affront. “Look, Mr. Dubois, you said the models were to follow the rules and that included being on time. She was late, really late. A whole hour. I was just trying to move her along…”

“Enough. You,” he pointed to the waif of a man, “are an idiot. Do you not see she is injured and cannot run with crutches?”

“I was just trying…”

“Assez!. No. Shut your mouth before you dig a hole so deep you’ll never find your way to the surface,” Alec grated. He looked around the room and held his arm out, scanning the space. “Now, to everyone listening, and I know you are...” A few people tried to look away as if that was going to hide the fact that everyone had been paying close attention. “This woman is Mia,” he pointed to me. “She is the entire muse for ‘Love on Canvas’. As far as you are concerned, she is as precious and priceless as any of my paintings. Treat her as such. Now, back to work.” He clapped his hands together twice before coming to my aide.

“Are you okay, ma jolie?”

“Fine, he just annoyed me. Tugged on me too hard and I almost fell. It’s an honest mistake.”

“One he will not make again,” he bit out, then leaned forward and scooped me into a princess carry again. “How was your sleep?”

This was my chance so I took it. “Would have been better with a nice warm body lying next to me,” I finished boldly. He stopped and stood still, his gaze on mine, tawny eyes turning a shade darker, pupils dilating.

“Is that so?”

“I never lie,” which wasn’t exactly true. I lied all the time when it suited me or I was stuck in a bind. Even though this suited me, this was not one of those times.

Alec grinned. “I find that hard to believe, ma jolie.” He brought me over to the same place we were working yesterday and sat me in the chair I’d used.

Before he could let me go, I whispered, “Believe it Frenchie,” into his ear then kissed his cheek sweetly. Nothing more than a reminder of our heated kiss a couple days ago.

“It seems we’ll have to do something different with our sleeping accommodations posthaste. Don’t want you to be uncared for.”

“That would be a tragedy.” I smiled wide.

His response was a wink before he turned around and got out the paint again and a small brush.

“Painted lips again?”

He came toward me and lifted his chin in a silent request that I look behind me. I turned sideways in my chair, staying mindful of my sore foot. That’s when I saw it. Not it…me. Two of me. One was a black and white painted image of me. The other a combination photograph on one half of the canvas, the other half blank. Bright red lips were the only point of color on the second picture. The first painted image was so lifelike, even more so than the actual photographic image on the other canvas. I stood and hopped over to the painting. The brush strokes were miniscule and almost a perfect duplicate of the photographic image. You could even see the tear streaming down my face. The sadness in my eyes, the stance, slumped shoulders showed a tortured woman. Sad yet still…beautiful. A moment caught in time.

“It’s…I can’t believe…how?” I whispered and lifted a hand to touch the painting. Before I could, Alec gripped my wrist and pulled it back gently.

“No touching. It’s still wet. I worked on it through the night.”

My eyes went wide and I gasped. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize. That’s dumb. I mean, I should have known, it makes sense. Sorry,” I frowned.

Alec’s hand reached out and he caressed a lock of my hair, rubbing it together with his fingers before trailing one fingertip down from my temple, cheekbone and along the side of my chin. Goosebumps broke out against my arms and I shivered.

“Cold?” he asked with a hint of a smile. He knew what he was doing to me. How his touch ignited something inside.

“No,” I licked my lips and stared brazenly at his, wishing he would lean forward and put his lips on me. Anywhere. Everywhere.

“Well then, let’s get started.” He combed his fingers through my hair, pushing it over my shoulder. Then repeated the movement on the other side. Not what I was expecting, but it felt good, so I went with it. “Sit, I’m going to paint your lips.”

I groaned but hopped back over to the seat, plopped down and rolled my eyes before he came around and knelt in front of me. “Do you ever think about anything other than work?”

“Are you referring to the fact that I want to kiss you until I’ve stolen all your breath? Or the fact that if I could, I would shred your shirt, and suck on your pink tips until you begged for me to make love to you?”

“Make love?” I snickered even though his words made me hot and bothered; they were hot...and bothered me…a lot!

“Of course, chérie. the French make love. There are many forms of making love. Hard. Fast. Slow. Deliberate. I plan to do all those things to you, and for many, many hours. But not now. Now is the time for work. Later, we play.”

I nodded not able to speak any further. I wanted to know what ‘play’ meant to him. I had a pretty good idea it was the kind of play I hoped it was. God willing. Slowly Alec painted my lips with the goopy cherry red paint. When he was done he lifted me from the chair and carried me over to the painting of me he’d done.

“This is where it gets tricky. I want you to place your lips over those on the painting exactly where they are painted. I will guide you as best I can. You will get close and then slowly press them against the painting so that the paint transfers.”

I gave him a hard look, but, like yesterday, I didn’t want to speak and mess up the paint on my lips. Now, more so than ever before. He gripped my head and I placed my hands on each side of the wall around the painting. First, I got really close.

“Be careful not to touch the painting anywhere else, or I’ll have to redo it,” he warned which sent a fissure of fear tumbling through me. I sucked in a long slow breath through my nose and let it out, then leaned super close to the painting. When I got to where I thought I should be, he centered me lightly by holding my head on each side before pushing ever so slightly so that I’d move forward.

I puckered my lips and kissed myself then pulled back. He helped me reverse so I wouldn’t lose my balance and helped me to the chair. The black and white painted image now had a perfect set of red lips. It actually looked almost as though he’d painted them there, but you could tell it was a kiss. It wasn’t perfect, but I thought it looked good.

“Exactly as I pictured it. You amaze me, Mia,” he said in awe as he stared as his masterpiece. His arms were crossed over his chest, one arm supported by the other, one hand holding up his face at the chin where he stared and stared at his painting.

“Ever heard that saying, ‘take a picture it will last longer’?” I giggled.

His head turned in slow motion and I caught his gaze. “This will last a lifetime in someone’s home. Get passed down from generation to generation leaving a legacy for years to come.”

Well, when he put it like that, I guess it was pretty flippin’ fantastic.

***

The rest of the day, he had me doing stills again. This time, I stood completely naked on top, facing the blank canvas that had half a picture of me printed on it.

“I don’t understand why I have to be naked for this,” I said, my hand covering my naked chest. The girls were covered in gooseflesh, and I didn’t think that made for a very nice picture. My hair was down and wild once more, only this time he’d had someone come in and professionally mess it up. That had me laughing so hard he left the space on a turn of his heel to go check on his other work. Really, I knew I was annoying him. He probably wasn’t used to his muses talking back or giving him a hard time. Made me wonder how many muses he’d had in the past. The thought that I was just one of many irked me.

“Have you ever hired a muse?” I really didn’t want to know the answer but couldn’t refrain from asking.

The camera clicked and he spoke to one of his attendants in French who adjusted the big lights a few inches. Another click. “No, ma jolie. You’re the only one,” he finally answered. And it was enough. I liked being his only muse for hire. Not sure that made me any better than the other models, but for my own mental stability, I pretended it did.

“What are we doing anyway?” I asked facing the blank section of canvas on the unfinished picture.

“I’m going to make you love your image. Which will translate to the viewer as loving yourself.”

I’m certain my eyes narrowed unattractively at his statement. “Come again?”

He let out a tired breath. “Ma jolie, I need to finish these stills so I can paint and have dinner with you, make love to you, then paint your image onto canvas. There is much to do,” he said like a broken record.

That wasn’t what slithered through my subconscious though. It was the way he made a laundry list of things he had to do and having dinner with me and “making love” to me where part of his chores this evening. “Don’t do anything on my account,” I responded angrily.

“Mia, your mood is affecting your image. Please stop thinking about being frustrated with me and focus on the job at hand.”

I turned around beyond pissed, hands on hips, forgetting my tits were flailing in the wind for all to gawk at. “I can’t do that,” my voice rose several octaves, getting additional attention from his men in black working around the room. I thrust a hand over my bared breasts trying for a modicum of modesty. “I don’t even know what you want me to do!” came out through my clenched teeth.

Alec came over to me and positioned me back at the wall. He leaned in close, pushing the hair off my shoulder and neck where he nuzzled in. “Ma jolie, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to anger you. Tensions are high. Let’s focus together, and we’ll talk more later. Oui?” He said in that calm tone that, after only two days, seemed to work like a charm at calming me and centering my focus at the same time. With the barest of pressure, he kissed the top of my shoulder. It felt like a promise, one I’d be making sure he kept later this evening.

“Now, place your hand here,” he lifted my right arm alongside the wall. The other, I want at the bottom of the canvas over your image’s heart. I placed my hand delicately on the canvas. Even though it was a silkscreen image I didn’t want to mess it up. Alec went back to his camera. “Okay Mia, please stare at your image. Think back to a time where you felt loved. Beautiful. At home in your own skin.”

Instantly, I was catapulted to a memory of being a small child. It was before my Mom abandoned us. We were a happy family of four then. I had just won the lead part in our county’s children’s play. Mom was even happy for me, and she usually was primarily focused on her own desires and wins. But not that day. That day, she gave me a hug and a kiss, and told me she was proud of me and would always love me. Then my Dad scooped me into his arms and held me close. He whispered into my ear how he always knew I had something special. Something no other little girl had. And in that moment, secure in my dad’s arms and my mother’s love, I believed him. Best day of my life.

The camera clicked like wild. Then the memory continued, the next day, Mom left and never came back. I never did star in that play. For a long time I thought it was my fault that she left. Because I did something so well and got all Dad’s attention, something I knew she craved a lot of, even when I was only ten years old. Now as an adult, I knew different. Well, mostly.

I looked up at twenty-five-year-old Mia’s teary face in the image and pitied her. For just a second I allowed myself to feel pity for my upbringing, for the choices my family made, and how I later chose to live my life. How I was living my life now. What I saw wasn’t a pretty picture anymore. It was of a sad girl who’d lost something precious. Something beautiful.

Without asking if we were done or if he’d gotten what he needed, I put on my bra and shirt, hopped over to my crutches and hobbled away. The wall around my heart was barely intact, crumbling at the seams. One more hit and I’d be on the floor in a puddle of rubble.

“Mia!” Alec called but I didn’t stop, just waved goodbye over my head. It was late and the day had been long. He couldn’t fault me for needing rest.

I made it up to the loft, went straight to the kitchen and found an open bottle of wine and a wine glass, poured a huge helping of the crimson liquid and took a huge gulp before allowing the tears to fall.

That was when Alec returned. He came to my side, grabbed another wine glass and poured his own. Then he leaned against the counter and looked at me while I tried to compose myself and pretend I hadn’t just been bawling like a baby.

“Why don’t you love yourself?” His words hit my wall like a sledgehammer and left a giant, gaping hole in their wake.

Chapter 4

“I love myself.” The words spilled from my lips like acid hitting bare flesh.

Alec’s gaze settled on mine. I was leaning against the kitchen island having just poured myself another glass of wine.

“Do you? Could have fooled me,” he responded flippantly before tossing back a heavy slug of the red wine.

“You think you know me? After only a few days?” I ground my teeth together and narrowed my eyebrows.

Alec’s lips pinched together and he turned his head and looked at me. That look said it all. Frustration, stubbornness and something else. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, or at least better than you will admit to yourself,” he came close and cupped my cheek. I pushed it away and hopped back on one foot, protecting my ankle.

“What? You think because you’re an ‘artist’ you have some type of special ability to read people? If that’s the case, your magic is way off, Frenchie, because the last person I want to be near right now is you!” I slammed my glass down on the counter and the wine sloshed out both sides onto the counter. “Fuck!” I hobbled over to the paper towels and pulled frantically at the roll, grabbing far too much for the tiny spill.

“Let me,” Alec tried to grab for the towels. Again, I shoved him away.

“I’ve got it. I’ve been cleaning up my messes and everyone else’s most of my life. I can handle a tiny spill,” I sniffed, holding back the damned emotions that were hanging just at the surface ready to break free. There was no way I was allowing myself to break down now. He’d see me as being weak, useless.

He pulled back and held up both hands, palms facing me. “Okay, okay, Je suis désolé. Sorry,” he repeated in English.

I knew I was being a bitch. This wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything to warrant me treating him poorly. Once I’d wiped up the mess, he handed me a newly opened bottle of wine. I poured more in my glass.

“Talk to me, ma jolie. I am here. I want to be here for you,” he said softly. I caught his gaze and could see he meant it. There was no pity in his tone or his eyes. Just concern.

“Alec, I’m sorry. It’s just, doing the shoot today, when you asked me to think of a happy time, it brought back a great memory. Only that memory was smashed by another that was very painful. It was a time in my life I still haven’t been able to work through. That’s all. It’s not you.” I leaned forward and wound my arms around his body, and laid my head against his warm chest. I nuzzled there smelling his fresh woodsy scent. He held me close, wrapping both arms around me. One hand slid up and down my spine comforting me in a way only a man of his size could.

“I get the feeling you’ve spent a great deal of your life taking care of others, oui?”

Instead of responding, I just nodded against his chest not wanting to see his eyes. He took a deep breath and squeezed me tight. “So now, ma jolie, it’s time you take care of yourself, oui?”

Again, I nodded from the safety of my hiding place.

“I shall help you. This project, Love on Canvas, will be an outlet. Together, and for the eye of the beholder, we will find you some peace, and I shall show you through art how perfect you are.” He pulled me back by the shoulders. I took a hand and wiped away the tears. I didn’t even realize I was crying before looking up into his beautiful eyes. They were so serene, yellow with warm brown flecks swirling happily. I couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. “This will be my best work yet and through it, you will find a piece of what you need to move forward.” He smiled wide then leaned forward. And finally, Alec kissed me the way I’d wanted to be kissed since I first saw him in person.

Deep.

Wet.

Long.

His lips formed to mine. He leaned forward and pressed his frame against mine until I was caged by the counter and his arms on either side. I lifted both hands, and starting at his stomach, I felt him. Finely sculpted abs, each bump a road I wanted to travel with my tongue. His pecs were hard slabs of muscle under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Once I reached his neck, I pushed up a few more inches and let my fingers glory in the silk of his hair. He’d pulled it down at some point, and right then, I couldn’t be happier. He tilted my head to gain deeper access and his hands came into play. I was definitely enjoying his version of play.

Alec caressed my body like he was painting a canvas. Soft strokes here, harder ones there. All meant to seduce. I wanted his hands all over me—without the clothes. My foot was starting to throb painfully as I kept trying to put it down on the floor so I could pivot onto my toes to reach higher, press more of my body into his. Frustrated I jolted back, his lips leaving mine in an audible smack.

“What’s the matter?” He asked taking heavy breaths I felt puffing against my face. His eyes held concern, but I cupped his cheek and caressed his moist lip with my thumb.

“My foot…it hurts. I need to…lie down. Bed?” I said as winded as he was from our kiss.

He grinned wide, placed his hands on my ass and lifted me up. Instantly, I wound my legs around his trim waist. “My pleasure, ma jolie.” He carried me to the stairs and slowly climbed them, treating me as precious cargo, planting soft kisses along my neck as he went. When we made it to the bed, he held me tight, placed a knee on the mattress and leaned down, never dropping me in the process. The thought of his strength and power hovering over me sent me into an upward spiral of want.

Once I was flat, I pushed my hands under his shirt to get at his skin. Fumbling, I yanked at it, and he leaned up and whipped it off his head, tossing it behind him. Then he unbuttoned the few buttons on his jeans and left them open. I could see nothing but bare skin, soft tuffs of russet hair and a bit of his hard dick. Frenchie wasn’t wearing underwear. Fascinating.

“Commando?” I grinned.

His brows narrowed and he cringed. “Quoi?” he shook his head, “What?”

I placed my hands onto his waist then leaned up so I could slip them into the back of his pants to grip his bare ass. He groaned and flexed his hips when I did that. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

Alec’s tongue came out to moisten his bottom lip. I stared at that lip like it held all the answers in the universe. “Oui. I do not wear le caleçon. They are uncomfortable and unnecessary. Prevent me from getting to what I want faster. For instance, you.”

Then his body straddled mine, his lips trailing down my neck. It felt good. Better than good. He gripped both breasts over my shirt before leaning back on his haunches and doing away with it. The front clasp of my bra was opened and gone in what seemed like a blink. With his fingers, Alec traced patterns all over my naked chest. I closed my eyes and allowed him to touch me this way. A way I’d not been touched before. Almost reverently, like I was special, my body precious.

“Vous êtes de l'art,” he whispered in French tracing the sides of my breasts and ribcage.

“Vous êtes l'amour.” His fingers skimmed the tops of each breast.

“Vous êtes la beauté.” His thumbs swirled in circles around my nipples.

I gasped and arched into his feather light touch. His words, along with those magical fingers, were setting me aflame. “What did you say?” I asked in a breathy whisper.

He leaned forward and kissed me above my heart. “I said that you are art.” Then he moved to my breasts and kissed the fleshy tops of each. I sucked in a breath and held it. “You are love.” His tongue came out and twirled around one peak, then the other, forcing a gasp out of me. “You are beauty.” His mouth encircled my nipple and sucked hard in long drawn out pulls until the areola was prickling with sensation and tight as a knot.

My hands were not idle. I ran my nails up and down his long back then curled my fingers into his hair. The strands of his long tresses dangled along my body as he made his way down my chest to my belly. With ease, he pulled off my pants and underwear simultaneously. He situated himself between my legs and lifted one in the air. He kissed my instep, up my ankle all the way to the back of my knee where he licked and nipped. I had no idea the back of my knee was such an erogenous zone, but hell, my sex was weeping for attention, and he hadn’t even touched me there yet. Alec repeated the same movement on the other side only taking extra special care not to tweak the dressing on my bad ankle. When he got to the back of my knee, I visibly shivered.

“Cold?” He asked on a grin. He knew I wasn’t, but like before, he enjoyed toying with me. I had to admit the anticipation of what he’d do next had become part of the experience, and I relished it.

I shook my head as he put my leg down. He cupped both kneecaps and butterflied my legs out. “I want to taste your beauty on my tongue.” His eyebrow quirked up almost as if he was asking permission. He waited long moments his gaze never leaving mine. He was asking permission. I licked my lips and tipped my chin. His eyes turned dark, heavy with intent. Like a jaguar, his shoulders moved into position and just as I looked down to see his beautiful body in between my legs, he struck, lightning fast. His mouth was on me and his tongue deep inside.

“Oh, God!” I roared before clinging to his head. He was not slow in his movements like I expected. Most men started off slow, tentative. Not Alec. No, he attacked my sex liked he’d never get another chance. Within, his tongue flicked delectably against every millimeter within his reach. Little bouts of electricity buzzed from my sex and outward. The scruff of his beard grated along the lips and sides of my center as he partook. The sounds he was making were animalistic, growling, groaning and humming with delight as my body bucked against his face.

Alec brought his fingers into the mix. A thumb twirled around my O-trigger while his tongue searched my heat. I slammed my hands on the bed and gripped the sheets in my fists as an orgasm coiled tight starting low at my spine and spreading out over my body like ivy crawling a fence. It coated me with its power, the very surface of my skin buzzing with the need for release.

“So divine. You are sweet, ma jolie.” he lapped at his fingers before putting them inside me and hooking them up and yanking down. “Like the finest champagne.” He lapped at the spot, and I groaned, the orgasm he’d built ready to burst. “I may never get enough. I’m going to gorge on your sweetness until I taste your cream, chérie.” His words were positively filthy, but were the bit I needed to throw me over the edge. “Ah, yes.” He tugged on my insides with fingers, lapped at my O-trigger, while my entire body tightened pleasurably into extreme nirvana.

At the height of my release, he pulled his fingers out, licked me around the tiny rosette at my backside which made me jerk and shake, then sucked at my cleft, literally drinking from me. When he was done and my orgasm had petered out, he held my legs open wider. I figured he’d climb up me and put his cock inside. At least that’s what I was hoping for, about to beg for. He had other plans.

Moving slowly up my center with his tongue he placed a finger at the tiny rosette below my slit and twirled the digit around it, gradually pressing a centimeter inside. I gasped and pulled my hips back not sure if I wanted an invasion in that dark place, but I couldn’t help the tremors of excitement that jumped through me as he touched it. Alec was an observant man. He noticed my response and as I looked down he grinned, then sunk his teeth into the flesh of his beautiful bottom lip. I wanted to do that. Frustrated in every way, I plopped my head back down. “Fuck me, Alec,” I begged and gripped at the sheets once more.

“Non, pas encore,” he murmured into my flesh.

I didn’t know what that meant, but I did know what encore meant in English, and I was all for that.

This time when his tongue laved, it was slow, deliberate in its movement against my sex. It was as if he was soothing the flesh, possibly memorizing it. After a while, I got impatient. My hips gyrated side to side and around as he stroked with his tongue and fingers. Without further preparation, he slid two fingers inside me. I groaned. Finally! But before I could get into the joy of having his thick fingers exactly where I wanted them, he slid out. Not for long. His tongue replaced his fingers licking inside then moving up to my hot spot. Once he touched down there, I was back on my way to another incredible orgasm.

“Fuck yes,” I lifted my hips and grabbed at his hair, forcing his face onto me. He didn’t disappoint. He took that as the need to go faster, push harder, take more. I loved every second, so far gone in my search for the second peak, I didn’t realize he had a moistened finger circling that secret place no man had ever touched until it was too late. That finger pushed down on the rosette, pressing in while he simultaneously sucked hard on my O-trigger. My hips tried to thrust into the air but Alec held them down, fucking my ass with his finger as I shook. It felt different, burning, and so insanely good I started to push into it, wanting it harder, faster.

“Tres belle,” he whispered and kissed my clit. He was soft with my sex but ravaging with my ass, plundering in, pushing me up the bed with each force of his hand into my body. I reveled in it, allowing him to take me in that dark way. A place no one’s ever been before. A place I didn’t even know I wanted to go until he took me there. My Frenchie.

Alec lifted up sitting on his shins but kept his hand working me over. He placed his other hand to manipulate me where I needed him most. I gasped and closed my eyes knowing he was watching me.

“Ouvrez les yeux,” he said, then in English he continued, “Open your eyes.” I did as he bade. His eyes were black. No hint of the tawny brown they were normally. “I like to see you. Remember your face when you’re inner beauty is brightest.”

He pushed hard into me, and I gasped then jerked my hips. He fucked me hard with his fingers and when he pinched my clit between thumb and index finger with his other hand, I took flight. Literally left the plane I was in, my body opened up, free as a bird while Alec gave me my wings.

Somewhere in my subconscious, I heard a crackling noise and the scent of rubber wafted across my nose. Alec’s hands cupped my shoulders and then he was there, pressing his length into me. The denim of his jeans scraped along my inner thighs as he thrust deep. It was like the pleasure was never going to end. I hadn’t even come down fully when he’d plowed his thick length into me. He groaned into my hair, and I clasped my limbs around his body, holding him close, loving the warmth of skin as he pressed in and out.

“Chaud, soyeux, et parfait,” he said before kissing me fully. I opened my mouth and let him enter me in all ways, joining with him the way I wanted to from the moment I saw his picture. He was hard, long, and deep inside me. I never wanted him to stop, yet I wanted him to get there more. To feel what he’d given me two times already. So, with all my might, I shifted my weight and rolled over on top of him. That’s when I worked him hard.

His hands immediately came to my hips and helped guide me up and down on his thick cock. He was magnificent like this. The muscles in his forearms tightened and strained with every thrust. A sheen of sweat built up over the bumpy highway of his abdominal muscles. I leaned down at one point and licked and sucked the flat disk of his nipple.

“Putain oui” he said through clenched teeth, his jaw working overtime. I nibbled and bit at his nipple until it was dark and erect then moved over to its mate and did the same. Alec’s fingers dug into my hips signaling his need to be taken harder. I lifted back up, flung my hair back behind me, and rode him…hard. Every press down I ground into his pelvis sending sparks of excitement through my sex where I clamped down using my internal muscles, giving him as good as I’d gotten.

He spoke in rapid French. I couldn’t understand any of it. He sat up, pushed with his feet until he was at the headboard. He leaned my body back and physically slid me on and off his cock. The French started back up again as he watched himself enter my body over and over. As much as I wanted this to be for him, I couldn’t help that he was winding me up again. My body was coiled tight like a snake, and he knew it, too. He leaned his mouth forward and sucked hard on my nipples making them dark red raspberries until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Finally, his head hit the headboard and I grasped the top of the headboard for leverage. That’s when I took us both over the edge, barreling into a sea of sweet nothingness, the only sounds our strained breathing as we cried out in mutual release, my center putting a lockdown around his shaft the likes of which I’d never thought possible before. He held me close still pressing his hips up from beneath me, rubbing out the very last tremors of pleasure.

We stayed that way, me strung up on his cock, sitting in his lap, my hands still hanging onto the headboard. His hands moved up and down my back, arms, thighs as if he needed to touch me, to believe I was really there. I could understand it. When you leave yourself like that, and the pleasure is so extreme, you need something repetitive to bring you back.

Little by little our heartbeats calmed down, and I tucked my arms behind his back and held him close. He didn’t let me go, either, preferring to touch and kiss me wherever he could reach. It was nice—really nice if I was being honest with myself.

For a moment, it reminded me of Wes. Sweet, beautiful, down to Earth, Wes. The one man, the only man I think I could ever truly fall in love with. I took a harsh breath and prevented the tears from coming. I wasn’t cheating. I. Was. Not. Cheating. Even though I kept telling myself, there still was a hint of guilt hovering over me like a machete ready to lop of my head.

“What’s the matter?” Alec asked pushing me back so he could see my eyes.

I shook my head. These were not thoughts I ever planned on sharing with Alec or anyone for that matter. “Just relaxing against you,” I kissed his nose then nuzzled him there. “We should clean up, take care of the um…” I looked down and Alec’s gaze followed.

“Ah, the condom, yes, I should do that.” He lifted me off and then got up pulled off the condom and tied it at the end before setting it into a tissue and putting it in a wastebasket. I imagine the last thing he wanted to do was go down the stairs to the bathroom though that’s exactly what I needed to do. I rolled to my back and groaned. “What is it?”

“I have to pee,” I mumbled and he laughed. Before I could say anything, he lifted me up from the bed in his favorite princess hold and carried me down the stairs to the bathroom. Once in front of the toilet, he set me down and moved out the door.

“I’ll make us a snack, oui?”

“Oui,” I responded and he chuckled before shutting the door. I took care of my business quickly and then grabbed for the robe on the back of the door. It was a lush deep burgundy color that felt like squishy awesomeness over my bare skin. I didn’t want to hop out there completely naked.

I hopped my way to the kitchen. He had a tray of items in one hand and a couple glasses of wine in the other. Still, he was bare-assed naked, and I greatly enjoyed the view. His tattoo slithered along his body and that reminded me how much I wanted to trace it…with my tongue.

“Un moment,” he said as he jaunted up the stairs to the loft bedroom. Before I knew it, he was rushing down the stairs, his dick flapping in the wind. I giggled as he made his way over to me. “What?” he asked a lovely smile adorned his face. When he was happy, he was less intense artist and more friendly Frenchie. Though I thoroughly enjoyed both very much.

Once he reached me, he pulled me into his arms and carried me back up the stairs. “I see you found my robe,” he said with a mock stern voice. Then he set me on my good foot, his hands going to the tie. “That is not acceptable. I told you, ma jolie, I like to see your naked body.” I let him remove the robe then I crawled over the bed and got comfortable. He set the tray in front of us and handed me a glass of wine. The rich berry flavor drifted down my throat and settled nicely in my belly. The tray he brought had some salami, tiny blocks of cheddar cheese, green grapes and a bunch of strawberries.

My stomach growled while I scoured all my options then settled on a chunk of cheese. It paired well with my wine. “Thank you.” I pulled the sheet up into my chest.

“For what?”

I picked up a strawberry and held it close. “For this, for tonight, painting me, sharing your work with me. I’m really honored to be here with you.”

His hand came up and held my cheek. “You are my muse, Mia. You were meant to be here.”

Chapter 5

Once we finished our meal, we messed around a bit more, kissing, caressing each other, getting to know one another better. After a deep kiss, I leaned on his chest and hugged him.

“Do you realize you barely say anything in English when you’re fucking?”

Alec’s body tightened before he responded. “I do not fuck, chérie. I told you, I make love to you, to your body.” His tone was drop dead serious and I couldn’t grasp why. “And I speak in French because you make me so far gone, I lose myself in you, in your sexy body.”

I grinned saucily giving him my best smile. Then I thought about the fucking versus love making for a moment. “But doesn’t that get tricky, the love making? Doesn’t everyone fall in love with you when you do that?”

He held me tight and slid a hand up to my bicep and squeezed. “I would hope so.”

“Wait a minute; you want me to fall in love with you?” I lifted off his chest and looked hard into his eyes. They were so pretty.

“Of course, don’t you?” his face contorted into one of bafflement.

I shook my head hard letting my hair fly. “No, not even. I want to have fun with you. Then after, I’m going to be with another client who I may or may not have sexual relations with.”

“As will I.” He looked utterly confused, which said a lot, because I was pretty sure I was going off the deep end without a paddle.

I pushed my hair out of my face and behind me. “Okay, let me get this straight. You want me to fall in love with you, yet you know I’m going to leave and be with someone else. Do I have this right so far?” He nodded and smiled innocently. “And you are going to fall in love with me, yet when I leave, you’re going to have this same awesome sex with another girl.”

“Awesome sex?” he grinned. Fucking pig. All men think with their dicks I swear. This proved it. I smacked him on the chest.

“Pay attention.”

“I cannot pay attention with you speaking of love and sex, two things I believe always go together beautifully, I might add. We should bring them together again right now.” He pulled my body over his. He was already hard. For a moment I balked. Hard again? Holy shit, this man was virile. He gripped my ass and pressed his hips to mine. “Are we done talking, ma jolie. I want to make love to you again.”

“No!” I sat up straddling his hips and crossed my hands over my chest. None of this made a lick of sense. “I don’t understand you.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is to understand? I make love to you. I fall in love with you a bit more each day.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, let’s continue with that. You fall in love with me more each day, yet you’re okay with letting me go?”

“If you would like to stay, I would be amicable,” he said deadpan.

Arrrgggghh! “You would be amicable? I don’t understand you.” my hand flew into the air like a maniac swatting at flies that weren’t there.

He pulled me down to his chest then rolled us over so he was on top. With one leg he kicked out the good one of mine and pressed into my hips. His large erection rubbed enticingly along my moistening flesh. I took a deep breath trying not to let it get to me. It didn’t work.

He kissed me softly. “Let me make you understand, oui?”

“Please!”

“The French make love. I make love. I have to have some feeling for you in order to truly make love to you, oui?”

“Oui,” I repeated. That made sense. The part of us full on falling in love then willy-nilly bailing on one another, did not make sense. As a matter of fact, it’s what was so hard about me leaving Wes. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I had feelings for the guy, and now, Frenchie here wanted me to have feelings for him—love type feelings— which I didn’t want to have.

He started talking again. “Therefore, I must love you a little to want to be with you in such a way. Yet, I can still love you and set you free. But you will always carry my love with you when you go, and forever. That piece of my love is yours for as long as you live.”

Gotta admit, that was pretty beautiful. The way he thought of having sex and making love, how it tied to the woman and the relationship he had with each of them.

“So, we’re going to love one another forever, only we’re not committing to one another in the way a married couple or even a boyfriend and girlfriend do,” I confirmed.

“Oui. Exactly, ma jolie! You’ve got it. My commitment to you is to love you wholly for our time, and that will stay with you. And I will take your love with me. Then forever, we will both know that this time was built on trust, love, and friendship.” He paused then kissed me softly. “Nothing more in life is needed.”

My eyes misted over and a tear trickled down the side of my cheek at the truth of what he’d said. Alec wiped it away. “May I love you now?” His words were simple but struck deep.

“Yes, Alec. I’d very much like you to love me,” I said through the lump that formed in my throat. And that’s what he did, loved me, all through the night or at least until I passed out. It was exactly what I needed to get through what had happened earlier in the loft, as well as the guilt that was building about Wes.

Alec and I had a mutual agreement to love one another as friends, to treat each other with respect. We would enjoy one another’s bodies and minds for the time I was there, and when it was done, it was done. We’d still care for one another and have a love that was exclusively ours that we could keep in a box inside our memories and revisit if we needed to. There was something achingly perfect about that. Right then, I vowed that I wouldn’t try to prevent myself from caring for each client. I would allow myself to care in my own special way. Only it wouldn’t be the “I’m in love with you forever way.” Forever was sacred, something that would present itself when the time was right, with the right person.

I thought back to Wes and how much I missed him. This situation with Alec gave me new insight into my relationship with Wes. Showed me how I spent the entire month I was with Wes trying not to love him. Protecting myself and my heart from ever feeling those things. Except it didn’t work, because I do love Wes. In my own way. And I think he loves me too. Only with him, I’m not sure it wouldn’t be the forever kind of love. That thought cemented why it was important for me to leave when I did. I can safely say that we were both honest with one another, cared deeply, and if it’s meant to be a forever kind of love, we have time to cultivate that. If it’s meant to be. Until then, I would enjoy my Frenchman and all the experiences I was supposed to have while I was there and for the remainder of the year escorting.

***

The next day when I made my way down to the loft, it was once again silent. I was beginning to see a pattern here. He took pictures one day, and the next day, when he did the painting, he released his staff so he could work alone. As I made my way further into the loft, I heard a hauntingly beautiful piece of music. The lilting voice and intense piano notes echoed off the walls as a woman’s tentative lyrics weaved through the chords of the piano. She was almost speaking in a whisper yet still singing. It was utterly disturbing in its beauty. Then strings entered the mix. I closed my eyes taking it into my heart and soul. Remembering this moment for what it was. Graceful, vulnerable, everything I needed.

Click I was startled and opened my eyes to see Alec standing in front of me a camera in his hand.

“I couldn’t help myself. You were too precious, soaking in the light of grace. I had to capture it.”

I tilted my head and grinned. “Did you get what you need?” I asked with a touch of sarcasm.

“Did you?” his eyebrow quirked. Always trying to teach me a lesson, my Frenchie.

I took a breath and scanned the floor choosing to leave it at that.

“Come, there is much to do.” Alec turned on a heel and strode over to our space in the loft.

I hobbled over and took my seat. I gasped as I stared once more at my image. Only this time it was the wide canvas. One half had my picture silk screened, the other, he painted. He must have gotten up in the middle of the night after I passed out once round two of him “loving” me was finished.

“How...?” I was incapable of saying anything else as I looked at myself on the canvas. It was me facing the image he had photographed yesterday. My hand out, my forehead near the painting, only he painted my hand touching the heart on the photographed side. The way he mixed medias so uniquely was unlike anything I’d witnessed before. This is why he was a world-renowned artist and people paid obscene amounts of money for his art. And I was part of that, a big part. His muse.

“I don’t need much sleep. Once I was inspired by your body, I had to paint it.”

“Are you saying, we had sex and you were so taken by the experience you came down here and painted this?”

“Oui. Your naked body. Making love to you gave me all the energy I needed to create this beautiful image for the world to see. Now you can see, oui?”

I stared at the black and white painting. Just a hint of my naked breasts showed in the painting. I could also see the happiness in my form as my image touched the sad heart of the picture he’d taken the day before. It was as if my happy self was consoling my sad self. Shivers rippled down my spine and out my arms.

Once more, he filled a saucer with sticky paint, then walked over to me, brush in hand. He proceeded to paint my lips as I quietly admired the painting in front of me. It held me captive like there was a gnarled hand clutching my heart. My heart pounded and tears fell from my eyes. The music in the room changed. The notes were loud and sweeping in their sorrow as they pitched high then low. Trombones and trumpets blared. Alec gripped my hand, swept me into his arms and carried me over to the painting. This time he didn’t have me kiss my lips.

“Kiss here.” He pointed to the hand over the heart in the second image. I leaned forward and kissed the painted canvas. A perfect lip print shone bright red on the painted hand. He applied more paint to my lips.

He pointed to my elbow and I kissed it. More paint. The shoulder, the middle of the back in the image. More paint. For a long time he reapplied the paint, had me kiss an exposed portion of my body on his painting. We did this until there were red lip kisses all over the painting he’d done. It was odd, it didn’t take away from his art but added an entirely different element. The kiss marks were bright, stark against the black and white of the canvas and his drawing.

Once he was done, he helped me back into the seat. Methodically he wiped my lips with baby wipes removing any paint residue. Then he handed me some water and a lip balm. I swear the man thought of everything.

He walked across the room and left me to the music and the painting. I stared and stared at myself. The one I’d done the first day was hanging to the left, the red lips and tear streaking down my face in the image was startling in its sadness. The picture on the right was the same image photographed but with the addition of me facing it, hand on the heart, only there were kiss marks over every couple inches.

The lighting above the artwork shone bright and seemed to start in the middle of the images and burst out, accentuating the depth of the dark and light along with the texture of the red paint making it pop out as if 3D.

“Have you figured out what it means yet?” Alec asked while looking at the painting. I looked at him for long moments. Watching him as he appreciated what he created. He was the one that should have been the subject of the artwork. He was so big, strong, and masculine. The hair he’d pulled into a tiny bun at the back of his head seemed to shine gold in the lighting. His beard and mustache made slight rustling noise as he rubbed his knuckles across it. “Have you, ma jolie?”

I shook my head and focused on the art.  “I can see that it’s beautiful, that it moves me in a way.”

His gaze shot to mine. “It moves you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered focusing on the first image. “This one, I look sad, but it’s more than that. There’s a quiet devastation there. The sorrow so deep in the eyes you’ve painted makes me think I’ll never be happy. That she’ll never be happy.” I tried to take myself out of the image even though it was difficult. I had a feeling that was the last thing he intended.

He nodded. “Yes when I captured you, it hurt me. That’s how I knew it was the right one. Art should make you feel something. Good, bad, happiness, sorrow, love, hate, cold, warmth. Everything we see correlates to a feeling within us. This particular one moved you the way it should.”

“Why? Why would you want someone to feel sorrow and a sadness so deep they may never recover?”

His gaze held mine. “Because that is what I want the viewer to see. The painting is called, “No Love for Me.”

Those words shot through my heart like an arrow. Tears spilled down both sides of my face “And the other?” I asked though afraid to hear the answer.

“What does it make you feel?”

I skimmed over the photographic image of my sad self and quickly looked away. “Shame.” His jaw seemed to tighten and lock down, and he gave a slight nod. I focused again on the image where I held my hand over the heart of the sad Mia. “Hope.” Again he stared and waited. I took in all the red lips everywhere all over the Mia reaching out to the sad image. “Love.” I shrugged.

Alec turned and came over to me where he kneeled down. He moved forward, held my face in both hands and kissed me softly. I could taste the coffee he drank and something darker, something that was unique to him.

“You see what I want you to see. Shame, hope, and love.” His eyes were wide, his features soft as he took in my face.

“But why? Those things are hard to grasp. Not only that, they are often things that tear people apart.”

“As sometimes art can do. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. What you see, what I see, may feel different, as it should.”

“Have you named it?”

He tipped his chin down in assent.

“What are you calling it?”

“Exactly what I want the viewer to feel.”

I swallowed slowly waiting for him to finish. He didn’t. “Which is?”

He traced my face from the indent at my temple down to my lips. He watched his finger with reverence as it slipped across my features.

“To Love Thyself.”

Chapter 6

Over the next week, Alec and I got into a regular routine. Stills, eating, sex. Painting, eating, sex. We hadn’t left the building, and most days it rained. I longed for sunny Malibu and being free to swim, go for a walk, or surf. What I missed most, though, besides my family, was Wes. Don’t get me wrong, Alec was amazing in more ways than one. Even though we had an easy camaraderie and had a blast in the bedroom, there really was nothing more to our relationship other than working and fucking. ‘Making love’ he called it; I called it fucking, and I loved to do it, though I didn’t share that with him. It could have been worse, I guess. He could have been parading me around to boring museums to look at other people’s art.

I wasn’t due in the loft until the evening. That was a new request. Usually, he wanted me there first thing after I woke. The problem was when I was alone with my thoughts, I’d think of all the things in my real life I was missing. My dad, who hadn’t woken from his coma but had been moved to a convalescent facility to be cared for by the State. Gin said it was an okay place, nothing special about it. She said she and Maddy visited every few days, read to him, try to keep him company. She sent me a picture of him lying in bed. The bruises around his face had healed. Most of his body was still in a cast of some sort.

Looking down at my phone, I saw my dad. It was as if he was sleeping, not fighting for his life. The doctors don’t know what his mental status will be if he wakes up. When he wakes up, I remind myself. No need to put out negative vibes into the universe. Even though I don’t really believe in that shit, if it does happen to be real, I’m not going to be the one to mess with the higher power.

Scrolling through the list of contacts, I pressed the speed dial for Maddy. It had been a good week since I’d spoken to her, and I was missing my baby sis.

“Hey, Sis.” Maddy’s sing song voice rang through the phone. Instantly, the tight feeling around my heart lessened at her happy tone.

“Hi, Mads, how you doing?” I asked.

The shuffling of papers and a zipper could be heard through the line. “Eh, you know me, getting ready for class.”

“What’s this one?”

“Forensic Pathology,” she answered.

I pushed a hand through my hair and tucked the blankets higher around my body. “Isn’t that the study of dead people?”

More shuffling then she sighed. “Yeah, technically it focuses on determining the cause of death by examining a corpse. The autopsy is performed by a medical examiner, usually during the investigation of criminal law cases and civil law cases in some jurisdictions…” She went on, but I had blanked out after she said examining a corpse.

“You’re going to cut up a dead person?” I couldn’t contain the shock in my voice. Who would willingly want to do that? I mean, I know people did do that, and it was part of solving murders and such, but really, my sweet baby sister cutting up dead guys? The thought made the hair on my arms rise.

“It’s called a cadaver, and it’s part of my course work. Everyone has to do a variety of classes and I picked this one. It’s really interesting. You’d never believe some of the sick stuff people do.”

She’d be surprised. “I know what psychos do, and I don’t want my baby sis anywhere near that shit. You’re golden, baby. I don’t want you tainted by what the scum of the Earth do.”

“Momma Mia, you cannot protect me forever. I’m nineteen years old. Besides, you’re only five years older than me.”

“Didn’t stop me from taking care of you to this point!” I shot back.

She sighed so long I could almost physically feel the weight of it pressing back down on my chest. “Mia, I don’t know what type of scientist I’m going to be yet…”

“The kind that cures cancer or develops new pills that can keep me skinny forever! The kind that doesn’t deal in death!” I sat up, my hackles rising. I did not want her surrounded by the ugly in life. We’d had enough of that growing up, and I had worked my damn ass off since she was five to make sure she’d see only light, as bright as I could give her.

“You know I love you,” she said so softly, using that voice that she knew got to me. “I know you want everything for me, and I…” She paused, and that pause pressed the weight deeper, crushing my heart. “Mia, I have to be able to find my own way. Okay? Promise me you’ll let me figure this out on my own.”

Figure something out on her own? My baby sis doing something all by herself. Without me to guide her, protect her, save her from getting shit on. I felt like a robot. Does not compute. Does not compute. I shushed my own ridiculous crazy voice aside and tried to be supportive. “I want you happy, Mads,” I choked back the emotion. “Just promise me you’re considering all options.”

I could tell the moment she turned back into happy-go-lucky Mads. “Oh, I am! I’m also taking a botany class that’s absolutely fascinating!”

“What’s botany?” God, I felt stupid asking my baby sister what something meant. I’d heard the word before, but I couldn’t place it.

“Plant science,” she giggled.

Did she just say plant science? From the study of dead people to plants? “Plants?”

“Uh huh. It’s actually really cool. We’re studying the relationship of different plants and flowers to their environments. Next, we’re going into horticulture which goes over the cultivation of plants and flowers for food and decoration.”

Now that sounded really weird but also safe and pretty. Everyone loved plants and flowers and there weren’t murders as part of something like that. “I like the sound of this course,” I admitted.

“Figured you would. And Mia, there’s this guy that I’m partnered with, and, oh my God, he’s so hot!” she giggled again like the schoolgirl she was. It lifted that weight right off my chest and slammed it into next week.

Now this, this is the type of talk I could get into. “Oh yeah, tell me everything!”

And she did. Shared with me how they’ve been flirting for a couple weeks, but he hasn’t gotten up the nerve to ask her out. He was a year older and majoring in the plant sciences. Really liked that. Meant he was a nerdy guy. I suggested she ask him out. She freaked. No way was my sweet, innocent baby sister going to ask a guy out. I was proud of that. Even more proud that, at nineteen, she still had her virginity. A couple times she’d come close, but we talked through it and she decided the guys weren’t worth it. I wanted her to have a special experience and told her so. Not like mine. Drunk off my ass in the back of my high-school sweetheart’s truck. Shortly after, he’d ran off with a cheerleader with bigger boobs and a lower IQ.

I was honest with my sis and told her my experience. At the time, she was horrified that a guy would do that to me and promised that she’d never make the same mistakes. I figured sharing that shitty time in my life was worth it. If she learned something from it and protected herself, I’d done my job, and I took my job of raising her seriously. She was the best thing I’d ever contributed to in my life, and I was determined, even now, to make sure she succeeded. For the both of us.

After my call with Maddy, I felt a lot better. Knowing she was doing so well in school, had found a hot, nerdy guy to flirt with, and the bills were all paid at home gave me a real sense of peace. I knew then more than ever that taking this job with Millie’s escort service was the right decision. Maddy had some extra cash in the bank, food in the fridge, and I was up-to-date on my payment to Blaine. I finished up my shower in a damn good mood then heard my phone ping while I was ringing out my wet hair. I hopped over to the toilet seat, sat my towel-clad fanny on it, then grabbed my phone and stared at the screen.

From: Wes Channing

To: Mia Saunders

How’s Seattle?

Seeing Wes’s name made my heart pound and butterflies take up flight in my stomach. I didn’t know how this was going to play out with Wes. He’d said we’d stay friends through the year, so I imagined this was his attempt at following through. I thought for a few minutes about how I wanted to respond. Guilt that I’d been with Alec scratched at the surface of my subconscious, but I pushed it aside. I had to treat Wes like a friend and vice versa. Yes, there are some deep feelings there.  Yes, I’d love to be sitting with him right now, but that’s not the way my life is. It’s not how my life is going to be for another ten and a half months.

From: Mia Saunders

To: Wes Channing

Wet. Did you know it rains just about every day here?

There, that should work. Something platonic. Friend-like. I read and re-read the simple reply then sent it. While I was blow drying my hair, I heard the phone ping again.

From: Wes Channing

To: Mia Saunders

Everybody knows that. On average it rains the same amount of days that it’s sunny. Okay, checked weatherunderground. You’ll get some sun in a few days. Of course, you could always come to Malibu. Sun is high and the pool is warm.

Leave it to Wes to attempt to get me to come back. I wondered if it was always going to be like this between us. Easy, joking, yet with a level of serious desire hovering just under the surface.

From: Mia Saunders

To: Wes Channing

Excuse me, Mr. Weather Man. And thanks for the update. Malibu in January was nice. Maybe I’ll plan a trip there next January. ;)

I added the smiling wink to help lighten the response. It was what we discussed, but I couldn’t really make that promise. The better part of the year was still ahead of us and who knew where we’d end up.

From: Wes Channing

To: Mia Saunders

Then I’ll look forward to your visit. Stay dry, sweetheart.

I didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Wes was everything I’d ever wanted in a man and more, but he wasn’t mine. Maybe one day, but not now. It felt good texting with him. Reminded me of something to look forward to at year’s end. I rarely had anything to look forward to. For now though, I had a sexy artist guy who was filling up my present with good times and something to remember. Of course, with Wes, I’d never forget.

***

When six o’clock hit, I made my way down to the loft per Alec’s instructions. I hadn’t seen him all day, which was a first. It was good to have that time alone. For most of two weeks, I’d been on top of him, figuratively and literally. That last thought made me smile. Once I arrived at the loft, I could see Alec’s form moving around at the opposite corner of the room from where we’d been working. He was behind his camera moving in a half moon shape taking pictures of a man standing ten feet away from him in front of a white background. A very naked, well-endowed man. Holy shit. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d never seen a man before, but this guy was young, probably my age, largely muscled, with his cock standing straight up.

Attempting to make as little noise as possible on my crutches, I came up to the side. Every so often the man would close his eyes, place a hand around his erection and give it a few tugs. He licked his lips and leaned into it. The camera clicked like crazy and Alec called out soft encouragements.

“Oui, like that.”

“Arch more; pretend you’re putting on a show for your lady.”

“That’s it, release your hand and place both behind your head,” was the last command.

I felt like a voyeur watching this man tend to himself while Alec captured the image. It felt racy and laced in sex. Two things that made the room sweltering hot and had wetness pooling between my thighs.

“Fini,” Alec declared with the last shot. He gripped a robe near one of the lights and handed it to the model. The model put the robe on and looked at the images Alec showed lifting up his camera to him. “These will not be in the photograph. I will paint them, oui? You agree to them?”

The man nodded. “You do good work. At first I thought it was going to be like porn, but this is nothing like that.”

“No it is not,” he agreed softly then clapped the model on the shoulder. “You ready for the female?” he asked, and I looked around. My shoe scratched against the concrete and both men’s gazes focused on me.

I lifted a hand and waved. “Hey,” I offered lamely. Good thing it was dark in this corner or they’d see the blush I could feel creeping up my neck and cheeks.

“Mia, come here. Meet Aiden. He’s going to pose with you, ma jolie,” Alec’s words hit me like a pail of ice-cold water.

“Um, what?”

Alec came over to me and led me to Aiden. We shook hands.

“Nice to meet you, Mia. I look forward to working with you tonight,” he said sweetly. Okay, sweet, muscled, and hotter than hell? The universe is a sick, twisted bitch. Now I understood why they characterized it as a vindictive woman. Any god that could create Aiden, Alec, and Wes—three perfect incarnations of male forms, all coming into my life within weeks of each other—was an expert at cruel and unusual punishment.

I grumbled a greeting than turned to Alec. “What do you mean? I’m going to pose with him?”

“Forbidden Love, chèrie. I’m going to take stills of you both making love on the canvas.”

The words making love crashed into me and my head jerked back. “Explain…fast,” I warned speaking through a clenched jaw.

“Oh, non, you will not be faire l'amour,” he rushed to say. “Making real love, non. It will be staged for the camera.” He cupped my face in both hands. “Maintenant, tu comprends? You understand now?”

“No, not even a little bit. More details before I high-tail it out of here, Frenchie,” I said using the tone he was now intimately familiar with after almost two weeks together.

Alec pinched his lips together and placed his hands on his hips. Aiden moved over into a chair and sat down away from us. I appreciated the gesture of trying to give us some space.

“Mon amour, I need to have the two of you, bare, holding onto one another like lovers. Then when I have enough, I shall paint it.” He moved closer, “Of course, that is after I make love to you.” His nose came close and he slid it alongside mine sending prickles of excitement to tingle and taunt my senses. “It will be my most inspiring piece yet. You and this man, who is very male, deep in the throes of passion.” He leaned forward and kissed me briefly, licking just my bottom lip before pulling away. Frenchie used his kiss to talk me into something without needing to talk me into it. Bastard hot French guy.

I huffed and pushed my hair back from my eyes. “You said bare, as in naked, or did I miss that?”

“Oui, you know I need to see the body in order to paint it. Besides, no woman has a more beautiful body than yours.” His eyes scanned my jeans and tight camisole. I hadn’t bothered to wear a bra knowing I was going to be at least naked on top today, and with the way his gaze was running up and down my body, my nipples were beading tight, clearly visible. His hands stroked the side of my ribs, and his fingers brushed over the erect peaks. “I see you like this idea very much.”

I pressed close into his body, thankful that my back was to Aiden. “I like the idea of being with you, but this guy, I don’t know,” I said honestly. It was hard enough baring my body to Alec for his art, but to be naked and rolling around with another naked guy pretending to make love to him? Seemed really forced, unlike the other pictures we’d done that were just Alec and me.

He watched me and waited for me to work through his request. His tawny eyes were kind, no pressure. And it wasn’t like I had to have sex with the man. Just pretend to. I looked over at Aiden. His knees were bobbing up and down while he glanced at us then away quickly. “Fine, I’ll try. For you.” I wanted him to know this was not something I waited my entire life to do. It was outside my comfort zone, more so than being naked in front of him. I was doing it because I trusted his vision.

“Okay, Mia, you go over there and remove your clothes. Aiden, your robe.” Alec was all business once more. Aiden stood and removed his robe. His gorgeous, naked body was on full display. Even soft, he was impressive. He’d make some woman very happy with what he was packing. I giggled looking at him but not seeing him.

Aiden frowned. “Something wrong?” He looked down his naked body and placed a hand tentatively over his dick.

I knew my eyes turned into giant saucers as it dawned on me what he thought I was giggling at. “Oh my goodness, no! You’ve got a great dick...I mean...um...I wasn’t laughing at your size. Ugggh.” I groaned and lifted my head to the ceiling. Fuck Mia. Now you’ve gone and made Adonis question his manhood. “Why can’t I ever be normal?” I blew out a huge breath, my lips puffing out like a fish. Aiden chuckled.

“It’s okay. I get you.” His lips quirked and he walked over to the white sheet covering a padded surface and sat down in the center.

“Honestly, Aiden, I was thinking about how hot you are and how you’d make some woman very happy.” I opened my jeans and pushed them down my legs.

He grinned. “No complaints from my girlfriend.” Then he winked and all of a sudden it was okay. He had a girlfriend. Just knowing that he was here to pose and had a girlfriend at home made me feel so much better. It shouldn’t, seeing as I was going to be rolling around naked with the guy, but it did.

“Completely naked, ma jolie,” Alec said while climbing up the ladder above the space. I yanked my camisole over my head and my boobs bounced free, the nipples pulling into tight knots once more, only this time at the chill. “There’s a heater there, so when you get on the padding with Aiden you will feel warm.”

With a deep breath, I pushed down my panties and hopped over to the mat. My ankle was almost healed, but it smarted when I put too much pressure on it. I wanted to be careful with it to make sure it completely healed before I tried putting my full weight on it. Once I hit the mat, I crawled shyly over to Aiden.

“Don’t worry. You’ve got a smokin’ hot body yourself. You ready for me to touch you?”

I licked my lips and stared up into the bright lights above. I could barely see the outline of Alec’s form. Fear crawled along my skin making gooseflesh bump at the surface.

“Um, I guess,” I said not really meaning it at all.

“Lie back, Mia. Aiden, put your arm under her neck so she’s resting her head on it. Place that right hand around her body and hold her back.” Aiden got close and leaned onto his side. I looked down and could see his dick had hardened. I gulped and bit my lip trying to shake off the creepy crawly feelings I had seeing his excitement. I knew it was natural for a man to get hard when seeing a naked woman, but still, I didn’t like it. At all.

Alec continued spouting orders. “Pull her thigh up and over yours to hide your manhood.” Aiden followed direction and gripped me by the knee and pulled my leg over his. That’s when his dick nestled against my pelvis, and I cringed.

“Mia,” Alec snapped. “Pretend you’re holding the man you love. Look into his eyes.” I ground my teeth and looked up. Aiden’s eyes were a chocolate brown. Kind, yet filled with the exact thing I didn’t want to see. Lust. I bit my lip and held my hands loosely at his waist. His hand slid up my thigh then curved around the cheek of my ass. I stiffened. The camera clicked several times. Aiden’s breath seemed incredibly loud in the space between our faces.

“Mia, you’re not pretending,” Alec warned. “Lift your neck. Now Aiden, kiss along the column slowly while I capture it. Dig your fingers into her flesh. He did, and I followed direction. As Aiden pressed his length harder into me, I could feel a tiny bit of moisture touch my skin. Swallowing hard, I started counting in my head hoping to God Alec would get his shot and this would be over soon.

Alec clomped down the ladder. “This is not working. Pas bon. Not good.” He brought a hand to his temples and paced. “Two beautiful bodies entwined should be magnifique, oui?” He was talking to himself. I pulled away and crossed my hands over my chest to wait it out. Alec’s eyes came to mine. Aiden touched my shoulder, but, when he did, I flinched. Alec’s gaze caught it. He saw everything.

“Aiden, you may go.” He walked forward and handed him the robe.

“But what about the shoot? I need the money from this job,” he said worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“You will be paid. You’ve done well. My vision is specific. The first piece will be painted.” Aiden’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

Alec gave him a small smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Really. Now go. I must work now with my muse.”

Aiden headed to the bathroom to change. Alec handed me his personal robe, which made me smile wide. I pulled it on and sat cross-legged on the padding. He came and sat next to me.

“You did not like this shoot.” No shit Sherlock. I sat there quietly waiting for him to come to whatever conclusions he wanted to.

“I need this shot. So I have an idea.”

“Okay.” My voice was small and timid, worried that he was upset with my performance.

He slid a hand to my face and looked intently into my eyes. “I will be your muse for the shoot.”

Chapter 7

“You? My muse? How does that work?”

I could hear Aiden move through the other side of the loft, open the elevator and slam the gate shut. That’s when Alec stood and pulled off his long sleeved thermal shirt. His chest shone in the bright lights of the loft. Then he yanked on the wide brown leather belt. Once he’d unbuckled it, he unzipped his pants and shimmied them down. Again, commando. I licked my lips and gripped his hips then looked up his beautiful body.

“You will pose with me. I will use this.” He held up a cordless remote control. It was cylindrical with a red button on top. It reminded me of an action movie where the bad guy had a bomb strapped to his chest with a cord and a button. Alec pressed the button and the camera flashed. “See, I will do the poses with you. Only with me, it will be real love on canvas.”

Now this concept had definite possibilities. I grinned wickedly and lifted up both of my hands along his sides, leaned forward and placed a kiss on the crown of his cock. He cupped my cheek with one hand while I showed him my appreciation for this brilliant idea. Once I licked his entire length, I pulled back. “You didn’t have to do that you know.”

“Yes I did, ma jolie. You were not comfortable. One frown on your pretty face was too much. I knew the concept was hard to begin with, but seeing your face as he touched you, knowing that you were trying for me...non, ce n'était pas bon, not good. I should have known. You have committed to me for this time. That means you would not look to be in love with a stranger. Real love, the kind I want in my art must be authentique, real, and it must be given willingly.”

I moved forward and took him into my mouth, sucking hard, showing how much his words meant to me. He valued my comfort above all and understood that I wasn’t just a good-time girl. I was his completely for the month. We’d agreed upon it, and he’d taken that vow seriously, now more than ever before. Alec shifted and leaned back, his head tilting to the sky as I took him as far as I could down my throat. The camera clicked. Knowing he’d caught this private moment between us made me wetter, hotter for him. I wanted nothing more than to be taken, right here, right now.

He fucked my mouth for a time then abruptly pulled away. “Your mouth, it is too good. Alas, I need the image of us joined in the act of love.” I nodded while he walked a few steps away, picked up his jeans and pulled out a condom. I wanted to tell him I was on birth control and that technically he didn’t have to use one, but I refrained. Something about that didn’t feel right. He suited up his erection and prowled over to me. He positioned me on my side the same way he did with Aiden. Only this time, I got as close as possible, smashing my breasts against his firm chest and willingly touched him…everywhere.

“I see you are no longer camera shy.” His lips crooked into a smirk.

“Oh shut up and take your picture, Frenchie,” I said then put my mouth over his. I could hear the camera click every so often. His hands clung to my naked body as the lights flashed and blinked. At one point, he had the clicker in the same hand as my breast. I could feel the cold tip digging into my nipple adding a frisson of pleasure and pain against the aching peak.

“Now for the real love.” He opened my leg, wedged his hips between mine and entered me, inch by delicious inch. My head tipped back and my hips arched forward. “Oui, chèrie, take my love,” he whispered and pushed his way inside. He gripped my hip and pulled hard, slamming his thick cock home, pressing on that high spot within and crushing my O-trigger in the process.

Gone.

Instant gratification cut deep when the orgasm ricocheted through my body as if it played ping-pong up my spine. I held him close, never able to get close enough, my body bowed almost painfully as I held on to the high. Lights flashed behind my closed eyes, only it wasn’t me, it was the camera. Capturing a most blissful moment in time.

Once he brought me down, I rolled him over and got on top. I stole the clicker from him. “Fair is fair,” I grinned. Instead of stealing back the control he put those artists’ hands over my breasts and played with my nipples, tugging and rubbing until they were white hot burning points of pure, raw, need. I leaned my head back sitting astride him. Then I lifted up and slammed down. His body tightened, and I clicked the camera. These may not be for his exhibit, but they were going to be hot as hell and to an artist, it’s the gift that keeps on giving long after it’s gone.

I rode my Frenchman so hard he was panting and growling in his pleasure. I waited until he started speaking in non-stop French before I’d allow him a reprieve. That’s when I knew he was closing in on the point of no return.

“Votre sexe est si chaud.”

“Je pourrais vous aimer toute la nuit.”

“Encore plus, bébé.” More, baby. I learned that one early on in our physical relationship.

Before I could take him there, he rolled me back over on my side. God, the man was a maniac in the sack. His stamina was unparalleled. His hips pounded into mine crushing my clit in the process. Before I knew it, I was back on the edge of heaven again. Both our bodies were slick with sweat. The set lamps only added to the heat.

“What did you say to me in French?” I asked before biting down on his lip and sucking it into mine.

“I said your sex is so hot and that I could love you all night. I think I will, ma jolie.” And that was all she wrote. He proceeded to pound into me. Words were no longer needed. The clicker was gone, somewhere near us, but I’d dropped it when my second orgasm spiked. Then my Frenchie pressed a hand in between our bodies and swirled a finger around the fiery knot between my thighs that throbbed for his attention. I clung to him as he played with me, fingers digging into his back, scratching down with the force of his thrusts. I wrapped my legs tightly around him and held on. He lifted up onto his forearms, pulled his dick almost completely out of me and rammed home. My teeth rattled and my toes curled as the orgasm tore through my body like a tornado did a house.

Violent.

Chaotic.

Destructive.

I cried out, my screams echoing and merging with his own as he found his release.

Bliss.

He had turned us back onto our sides mid-orgasm, and the last thing I remembered was a final click and a flash of light. Then I passed out.

***

I woke alone, my naked body covered by a couple of robes. Classical music was playing through the speakers in the warehouse loft. Still sluggish, I propped myself up and looked around. Alec was on the other side of the room. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else. Yum. The muscles of his back flexed and rippled along with his paint strokes. I don’t know how long I was out, but it must have been a long time because he’d finished most of a picture of Aiden. One of the ones where he’d had his hand wrapped around his cock, his body bowed forward, teeth clenched and head thrust back. I slipped on one of the robes and tested out my ankle. Not too bad. I slowly walked over to Alec but didn’t make my presence known. He didn’t hear me either, the music loud enough to cover my movements. He was lost in his own world anyway.

Quietly, I sat in a chair a good twenty feet away and just watched him paint. He was fastidious in his art. Perfect in his strokes. It was magical to watch. He painted the image quickly with precise movements. It seemed as if each stroke was paired with the sound of the piano keys touching down in the music. Musical art. Absolutely beautiful. The view, the man, the painting all coalesced into an ethereal experience, one I’d surely never forget nor see again in this lifetime.

After a long while, I couldn’t wait any longer to touch him. On quiet feet, I took the robe off and left it hanging over the back of the chair. On quiet feet, I padded to where he stood, in a trance staring at his art. The image seemed complete to me, but I did not have an artist’s eye. I didn’t have an eye for anything but sexy men, concert tees, and motorcycles.

When I reached him I lightly wound my arms around his form placing my hands over his pecs and my lips to the space between his shoulder blades. He smelled divine. Like the woods, sex, sweat, and paint. Alec’s chest moved with the force of his inhale at my touch. He was in a contemplative headspace, and I was breaking that, but he didn’t seem to care.

I think Alec liked my hands on him. No, I know he did. “You’re beauty and light.” I kissed along his shoulder blades then slid my hands down along each ridge and valley of his abdomen. Christ, the man was cut. For an artist, he had the body of someone who spent countless hours in the gym staying fit, but I hadn’t seen him work anything but me this week.

“Non. I am hidden in the dark, only lit when my art is on display. It is you who brings the light to surface. You are seeing your beauty reflected in me, the way my body calls to yours and yours to mine.”

His words seduced me as simply as his art did, the way his body did. I was lost in both and in him. Slowly, I opened his jeans and grasped his hardening cock. In this position he was massive, over-filling my hands. I bit into the flesh on his back, unable to hold back the desire to have him sink deeply into me the way I’ve come to expect in our love making.

He dropped his palette and brushes, and pushed his pants down. They fell to his ankles, trapping him there. I swirled a thumb around the head of his cock and spread the wetness pooled there all over his length. Then I stroked. Up, down, hard fast, slow, and with purpose, just the way he liked. He clasped the palm of my hand and brought it up to his mouth where he licked and sucked each finger, pulling each one into his mouth, wetting it. Then his tongue tickled my palm, coating it. He guided my hand down to his length. He wrapped my hand around his shaft and showed me how tightly to hold him and then he moved me up, pausing at the tip and then pushing down hard, much harder than I would alone. I got the hang of his rhythm and then he let go.

The French started the moment his hands separated and rested along the wall, caging the painting in front of him. His native language never sounded so sweet until he was lost in the act. I enjoyed it more than I’d ever admit. In that moment, Alec gave me control, allowed me to love him with my hands. I held tight went up slow, came down fast, and repeated over and over. He moaned then kept himself aloft against the wall with one arm and reached back with his right. My breast smashed harder against his back when his fingers found me, slipping between my legs, wet and wanting, coating my thighs with my desire for him.

Two fingers twirled around my hot button then sank deep. I gasped and locked my left arm up his chest and hooked him at the shoulder. My right kept working him up and down, tight and soft, giving him the exact amount of pressure he needed. Together we worked one another over both losing ourselves in the joy of being one in this moment.

He spoke in French, I spoke in English. Both whispering our version of sweet nothings against the other, until I knew if he touched that aching bundle of nerves I’d go off. I clenched around his fingers, a signal of my impending orgasm. In response, his cock leaked more fluid out the tiny slit at the top. I tickled that spot and the bumpy patch under it then squeezed tight, jerked against his body and came. My pussy had a lock on his fingers, my hand a lock on his dick. We bucked and spasmed against one another, his essence coating my hand, and the concrete floor. My teeth sunk into his back and he howled as the last vestiges of our lovemaking worked their way out.

When we both calmed down, I softly kissed and licked the spot on his back where I’d marked him. Pulling back, I found two perfect crescents just above the skin where his tattoo was most prevalent. He handed me a towel on a table near his supplies. I wiped my hands but my concentration was locked on the marks I’d left on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered against the bruise.

“Tu ne devrais pas être désolé,” he spoke in French shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he repeated for me. “Never apologize for being swept away by passion. I’ll wear your marks like badges of honor.” He leaned forward pulled up his jeans but didn’t button them before turning around and embracing me within the warmth of his arms. I held onto him still shaking from what we’d done. Tears fell down my cheeks as the emotions overcame me.

Alec soothed me the way he always did. Long strokes up and down my bare back, whispered French mixed with English telling me I was beautiful. I was love. I was light. And for now, I was his.

Later, he had me posing for stills. It was three in the morning, and I didn’t care one bit. I was freshly fucked, naked, and sated.

“Hold your hand out as if you are covering his manhood,” he instructed. I did what he said. “Cover your breast with your hand and tip your head back and close your eyes, open your mouth.” I followed his instructions to the letter.

The camera clicked, and I smiled. It clicked again. I opened my eyes and looked at my artist. My Frenchman. He was gorgeous behind the camera in his jeans, still open, showing me a peek at the goods I’d had twice that night already. I closed my eyes again, crossed my hand over my chest, and hid my center.

**click**

“Are you done?”

“I am now,” he said with a sexy smirk. Then he came to me and lifted me into his favorite princess hold.

“You know, my ankle is doing better. I can walk.”

“But I prefer to carry you.” He tilted his head and carried me through the loft, into the elevator and up to his home where he tucked me into bed and curved an arm around my body as he settled himself in.

I could feel his breath against the skin of my neck. “Tonight, ma jolie, it was far more than anything I’d ever done before. Being with you is…it is like its own special place in the world. I shall never have this again. I want you to know I appreciate what you are giving me.”

Even though I was tired, so ready to sleep, I rolled back over and held him close. He put his head on my chest and snuggled into my breasts. That’s what he needed, where he wanted to be. I’d give him that, because he was giving me something too, the realization that I was more than just Mia the sister, the daughter, the friend. I am a woman. A woman with feelings, desires, aspirations, and I was not just the sum total of what my mother left me with all those years ago.

Being an escort was what I needed to do for now to save my dad once more. A means to an end. At least I’d enjoy myself in the process.

Cuddling close, I ran my fingers through Alec’s long hair. He groaned and snuffed against my chest and slowly became dead weight. For the first time since meeting Alec, he fell asleep in my arms.

***

Today Alec made me breakfast…in bed. Apparently he was pretty pleased with last evening’s photo shoot. I couldn’t wait to see the images. I encouraged him to view them in private in the event that I attempted to jump him. He said we would later, but again…we had much work to do. A quick morning orgasm with Alec’s mouth between my legs, and I was rip roaring, and ready to go. Literally. He’d used it as a means to get me up and out of bed. Sneaky bastard. I’d made it too easy on him. All he had to do was please me, and I’d hop to it.

When we arrived at the loft, he hustled me into my chair. Only we were standing in front of the painting he’d done last night of Aiden. This time he had me remove all my clothes and stand side by side next to the painting. Then he had me turn to the side and place my left hand over the paintings erection covering some of it. My other arm was tucked into my hair. He leaned me on my elbow along the wall. So if I was lying down, it would look as if I was jerking Aiden off. Alec took a ton of still shots like this. That was it for the day.

The following day he had me once again in my chair and painted my lips. He led me over to the painting he’d finished last night only this one was simpler. It just had a silkscreen over the painting of my arm reaching out. Once he positioned me, he had me kiss the silkscreen image of my hand over Aiden’s cock. It was interesting to say the least, though I didn’t quite understand it.

“You will Mia, I promise,” he said but didn’t explain further. Another day passed, and this time when I arrived at the loft a giant painting of Alec and me deep into the throes of passion had been painted and hung alongside the image of Aiden. In between the one of Aiden, and the one of us held a silk screen of Aiden and me. Only this was not a picture I’d planned to see, nor did I think he’d taken it.

The picture was taken when Alec had stopped the photoshoot yesterday. This one was when we’d faced away from one another. Somehow though, our nakedness had been captured where a limb covered the important private parts. I had my knees up to my body, Aiden had turned and was reaching out to me. If the picture wasn’t captured so honestly, I would hate it.

I pointed to the image in the center. “Why is that there?” I asked.

“You know why.”

“Are you trying to be obtuse?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Look at the three as a whole, not as one, and you will see it.”

I stared at the first image. Aiden caught in the act of pleasing himself, finding gratification in his own hand. My hand coming over trying to hide his private moment from the world but not being able to. Then the image of him trying to touch me when I was uncomfortable and unsure of what we were doing. Then the painting of Alec and me intertwined. My leg was over his, he was inside me, but you couldn’t see the actual penetration. My arm around him prevented my breasts from being exposed. The look on our faces was precious. We were both at the height of our love making tumbling over the abyss together.

When you viewed the three together, it told a story. A man pleasing himself. The man who was supposed to love and protect my character but didn’t. His love was not being returned as shown in the second image. Then finding love in the arms of another.

“You see it now?” Alec whispered into my ear as his arm came around me from behind and pulled me into him.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s broken.”

“Broken love?”

Again, I couldn’t find the words so I just nodded and leaned back into him.

“Then that is what it shall be named. They will be hung together and labeled Broken Love.”

Of course it would. Broken love. That’s all I’ve ever had. It’s all I know. How very fitting.

Chapter 8

My time with Alec was going to end soon. Eight days to be exact. We had two more pieces to finish and I’d yet to leave this warehouse. I’d seen absolutely nothing of Seattle and even though the sun was shining now, I doubted Alec would want to leave. The last few days he’d been deep into adding finishing touches on each painting. He said he’d add something to them every day, almost to the point of no return when they’d need to be put up on the walls at the exhibit a week from today. The day after, I’d be leaving Seattle. Finally going home between clients.

Home.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t referring to LA. I was headed to Vegas. I needed to see Dad and I was being forced to make my second payment in person. Give ole’ Blaine a face-to-face meeting. Not my idea. Part of the deal. Son-of-a-bitch. I should have known all those years ago that getting involved with Blaine was bad news. Never failed. I always got myself into situations with men. At least now, I was being paid to and after the better part of a month it ended. Move on. No drama. Just a job. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Wes and Alec didn’t feel like a job. They were nice men that I cared about…deeply. Men any woman would jump at the chance to commit to. Not me. Not even an option. Though I didn’t believe that, even in different circumstances, my time with Alec would last longer than a few months. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed him, thoroughly, and he definitely appreciated having me around. Only it wasn’t a relationship to build a foundation on. He needed me for his work. I needed him for the money. In the middle of that, we formed a bond that survived on physical attraction and friendship. Nothing more. Wes, however, was another story altogether. Wes was the kind of man you fawned over, bragged to your girlfriends about, dreamed of marrying one day. He was not the love em’ and leave em’ type, even though, at the beginning, he tried to go that route—until it no longer worked for him and he’d asked me to stay.

Wes asked me to stay. With him. For him. So we could be an us.

I sighed loudly looking around the empty room and out at the sunny day beyond the tall windows. Alec needed to take me out. Period. I’d been in this warehouse for over two full weeks. Stick a fork in me, I was done.

Just as I was heading to the elevator to shanghai Alec, my cell rang.

“Hello?” I asked the caller without looking at the display.

“Good afternoon doll-face. How’s my best money maker doing?”

I rolled my eyes and slumped into the chair near the door. “Hey, Aunt Millie.”

“What did I say about calling me Millie? It’s Ms. Milan to you, baby girl,” she reminded me and which I continued to ignore.

Even though she couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “No dice. Never gonna happen. You changed my diapers, you know me better than my own mother—your loser sister—does. It will always be Millie, Auntie.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me of what an old crone I really am. You might give me a complex. Which reminds me...” She paused and I heard a scratching noise, probably her making a note. “...to call my surgeon and get my Botox freshened up.”

I groaned. “That’s nasty, Auntie. Don’t put shit in your face. You could stay that way.”

“God willing!” she responded jovially. Millie chuckled then got down to business. “Anyway, the reason for my call is Mr. March. You’re headed to Chicago!” Buttons over a keyboard rang through the receiver. I planted a hand to my forehead.

“Chicago.” Never been there. Hell, I’d never been anywhere aside from Nevada and California. “Who’s the lucky guy this time?” I responded sarcastically.

She clucked her tongue. “Anthony Fasano. Big restaurateur. Owns the largest chain of Italian Restaurants across the nation. You know, Fasano’s?”

“Holy shit! I’ve eaten there like a million times. Gin and I love Fasano’s. Best Italian in Vegas!”

“Yeah, well, Anthony Fasano inherited the twelve hundred store chain of restaurants throughout the US when his father passed away last year. Apparently, the family is big on him finding a wife and having an heir. He’s the only male out of five children so you are coming in to be his on and off again long distance girlfriend, now fiancé from the West Coast. He’s bringing you in so you can meet the family and get the heat off his tail.”

“This sounds like all kinds of Jerry Springer.”

“Look Mia, we only care that they pay the handsome fee for your pretty hiney. What it entails doesn’t really matter. Board meeting, social event, muse, pretending to be someone’s fiancé to fool their family…” I could practically hear her shrug. “Doesn’t matter to us. Just do your job. Besides, another fine male specimen. You could make your extra twenty percent. Speaking of, you received an additional twenty percent on your fees deposited into your account by Mr. Channing and just yesterday by Mr. Dubois. Seems like you’re having a good time,” she remarked.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Besides the fact that you’re making a mint…”

“No! Yes. That. Wes and Alec paid me…for sex?”

I closed my eyes and felt my heart stop beating. “What the fuck?” I whispered, a deluge of tears formed in masses, ready for the dam to burst and set them free.

“Doll face, they’re supposed to pay you. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it earlier. Mr. Channing requested your bank routing information and transferred the money in before you left Malibu. Mr. Dubois had it posted by one of his assistants yesterday. What’s the problem?”

I shook my head and clenched my hands into fists wanting nothing more than to pound both into the nearest wall. Heat flooded my body as if I was hot lava burning a path down a volcano. “I gotta go. Send me the info on the next client.” Abruptly, I hung up pressed a few buttons and hit Send.

The phone rang a few times. Just enough for my rage to reach boiling.

“Hey you?” Wes’s voice came through the line all salt and sand. “I was just thinking about you…”

“Save it. What the fuck do you think you are playing at?” My voice was razor sharp and held no protection against the bloody sting.

“Excuse me, back up. What’s the matter?” He sounded concerned, but it was all bullshit. Everything between us was a total fucking lie.

“The money, Wes! How could you do that?” My voice croaked trying to get the ugly words out.

“Didn’t you get it? Oh my god. Is your dad okay? I can come out. I’ll pay whatever you need. Tell me you’re okay, Mia!” he roared through the line.

“My dad is fine. Still in a coma. I wasn’t talking about what I owe the sharks. I was talking about how you could deposit the money for being with me. Intimately. Or was it just fucking to you?”

His voice was raw when he responded, filled with emotion. “It was never about the fucking money, Mia, and you know it as well as I do!” I could hear the fight in his voice, the attempt at holding back his own frustration.

“Then why? Why would you treat me like your whore!” The tears streamed down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away.

“No. Christ, no! Don’t you dare say that. Mia, it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh no? Then why is an extra twenty thousand dollars sitting in my account from you! Millie told me so!”

“Who the fuck is Millie?”

“My Aunt. Ms. Milan. It’s her escort service. Ring any fucking bells? Ding, ding, ding!”

“You work for your aunt?”

I ground down on my teeth, anger filling the sadness and replacing it with white-hot rage. “Not the fucking point, Wes! I thought what we had meant something. That’s why I didn’t tell you about the fee! I would never have made you pay it. I’m not a call girl! I was with you like that because I wanted to be, not because you were paying me.”

“Mia, sweetheart, listen to me. It’s in my contract. Besides, I wanted you to have that money. You wouldn’t let me pay off the sharks to help your dad. At the very least, I thought you could use that to help get you out of their debt faster. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” There was a long pause where I didn’t hear anything but a deep sigh. “Fuck! I’m sorry. Mia, you gotta believe me. I would never think that about you. I care about you. So much…” he whispered the last part. “I miss you. More than I should. I’m…tell me what to say to make this better.”

I sucked in a huge breath and stared out the window. Everything looked really green after so many days of rain and now sun. “Wes, it hurt. What you did. But…”

“But what?” He sounded like a man who was grasping at straws, at anything that would get him out of the hole he’d dug.

I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat. “I get why you did it. It’s going back...the money.”

“No, sweetheart, no. Please let it help you get out of this sooner. It’s selfish, I know, but...” His breath was ragged coming through the line. “Maybe it will bring you back to LA sooner. Help your sister with college. Whatever you need. Mia, I just want to help you. Please just let me do this one thing.”

“Wes…”

“Please.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Wes murmured softly, the way a lover does. “Are we gonna be okay? Are we still…”

“Friends,” I offered.

He chuckled low in his throat. It was the most beautiful sound I’d heard in three weeks. “Yeah, friends,” he finished.

“We are. I gotta go.”

“Your client?” His words were flat, held no emotion.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see. “I miss you too you know.”

“You do?”

“I do. We’re gonna be okay. Catch you later?”

“You know where I am, sweetheart. You’ve got the key.”

“Bye, Wes.” I hung up before I could hear his reply. Hearing it would make me want to jump through the phone and kiss him, soothe him, make him better. Make me better. At least he did what he did to help and truly didn’t realize what message he’d sent to me.

I am no man’s whore.

Time to deal with Alec.

***

“Ma jolie! I am ready for you. We must do stills for “Selfish Love,” Alec bustled the moment I entered the loft warehouse. He ushered me to the white sheet that had been spread over padding. “Clothes off, we mustn’t waste any time.”

Before I could express the rage simmering within me about the money, he’d whipped my top over my head and was undoing my pants. Instantly, the space between my thighs heated at his insistent caresses. Traitorous body.

“Frenchie, stop! I need to talk to you.”

“Non. Remove your clothes, but leave your lingerie on.” He moved from me to the ladder. His movements were quick, precise and not helping the situation. Alec was knee-deep into his creative headspace—that place where he’d stare blankly or paint incredibly fast, seemingly without seeing what he was doing. It was downright strange.

“Alec, I need to speak to you,” I tried again as one of his attendants tugged at my feet trying to get me to remove my jeans. I did what they wanted, preferring to get this part over with. When I was left standing in a standard white t-shirt bra and matching simple bikini briefs, the attendant helped get me settled. The hair chick Alec hired to be on hand started fussing with my hair, making it sweep out as if I’d lain down, yet my hair was perfectly sprawled out.

Then one of them came forward with the red paint. “No!” I pushed a hand out. “I told you, Alec. I needed to speak to you. About the money that appeared in my account yesterday?” I gritted my teeth and waited for him to look at me. He didn’t. Instead, he fussed with his camera, the lighting, yelled out commands until finally he answered me.

“Oui, I had it done yesterday,” he said absently while looking through the lens of his camera.

“Why?”

“Place your hand into your panties, close your eyes and pretend you’re having fun with yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

Alec sighed and his jaw clenched tight, the muscle at the corner beating a rapid tempo. “Pay attention, Mia. We have…”

“We have much to do, yeah I know,” I growled in response. “I’ve heard that a time or two before.”

His gaze flicked to mine like a bullet from a rifle, his eyes narrowing. “Then you know I am on a short deadline. The exhibit is in one week, there are two more paintings to be done. This one and one more I have yet to visualize. Now what is your problem? I sent the money, you received it, oui?”

“Yes, Alec, but…” I looked around. There were at least ten people hanging around, which was unusual for a racy photo day. He usually did those in private. “I want to talk to you alone.”

“And we will, once these photos are done.”

With a sigh of resignation I nodded and did what he said. Only the pictures weren’t working, which made him a bear to deal with. Eventually, he kicked the staff out.

“Today has been a waste,” he said, anger dripping from his lips. His long artist’s fingers went into his hair and he tugged at the tie that held the massive mane of hair back, allowing it to fall forward. Alec paced and mumbled in French.

“Well what did you expect? You want me to finger myself in front of a room full of people, not to mention while I’m pissed at you?”

He stopped pacing, his head jutting back, his hands going to his hips. Almost reminded me of a chick. A hot, manly chick, but the hands-on-hips thing was a total girl move.

“And what have you got to be mad about?” His tone was laced with piss and vinegar. It ruffled my feathers just enough to rekindle the fire that I’d kept banked for the last couple hours.

I leaned up and crossed my legs. “You paid me for sex, that’s the problem!”

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And you’re upset with this? Why?”

“I’m not you’re whore! That’s twice today a man has treated me like I was their fucking whore. I didn’t have sex with you because of the money! Jesus Christ, why are men so dense?!” I screamed into the open room. The sound echoed off the walls louder than I intended. He cringed.

“We had sex. Your contract states you are to receive twenty percent more for taking off your clothes, and/or having sex.”

Groaning, I stood up and walked right up to him. “I thought you were making love to me?” I spat.

“I did. We were. Unfortunately, the eyes of the law might not see it that way.”

“The eyes of the law see that as prostitution! The rule was one of those unwritten things you just do to skate the law with. Jeez.”

“Then unwrite it from your contract. Ms. Milan has the item as an add-on note. No, it isn’t written in the fine print, but your enforcer ensures you receive it. Plus, you did get naked many times for the art. The fee is owed to you for that alone. Now, you tell me how I should take that, chèrie? Hmm?

My shoulders slumped and my head fell down. Shit. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t doing anything wrong; he was following what he thought were the rules. It was official; I was an idiot.

At that point, he could have berated me, made me feel worse than I did, but he put his long, strong arms around me and held me while I wallowed in my own self-pity. It wasn’t the men that had me believing I was a whore. It was me. My own insecurities had crept up and wreaked havoc on my psyche.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I can imagine this is hard on you.”

Within the warmth of his arms I reasoned with myself. Told myself I knew what I was and what I wasn’t. No dollar bill, or misunderstanding, or even Millie would change that about me. I was a lot of things, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an actress of sorts, I was this man’s muse but I wasn’t a streetwalker, call girl, or a whore. A slut maybe, but not whore.

Comfortable with how I’d worked it out in my head, I kissed Alec with everything I had left in me. Once done, I leaned back, walked over to my spot on the floor and sprawled out. With a wicked gleam in my eyes I stuffed one of my hands into the space between my bra and breast. His tawny eyes twinkled against the bright lights as he watched me. I slid my other hand ever so slowly down my body. Alec scrambled up the ladder and grabbed his camera.

“Show me how selfish you can be with your sexy body, ma jolie.”

And I did. Closing my eyes I played my body as if he was touching me. Every move was made by his hands. Every sigh was for him, every moan swallowed by his lips.

My imagination did not fail to secure him the perfect picture.

Chapter 9

Hand-in-hand, Alec and I exited the warehouse. The sun shone bright, the wind blew against my hair, and the world opened up and greeted me. Hello world, I missed you.

“You realize this is the first time we’ve left the warehouse since I arrived, and I’m leaving in three days.”

Alec lifted my hand and placed a kiss on the top. “I didn’t, no, ma jolie. I’m sorry. I’ve been a terrible host.”

I laughed and swung his arm while we walked. “You had…”

“Much work to do,” we said in unison and then both chuckled.

“I am sorry chèrie. When I am focused, there is nothing but the work, food, sexual gratification and sleep.”

“The last of which you don’t get enough of,” I chastised. He didn’t. The man slept less than most insomniacs.

Holding his hand tighter, I turned to him. “So, where to?”

Alec had his hair back in his ever-present man bun. The sun made it look more red than brown and gold. Still incredible. He wore a thin, white, scooped necked thermal, and a pair of dark-wash jeans. A camera hung loosely around one shoulder. Alec Dubois was yummy. Manly, sexy, all that and a bag of the cheesiest potato chips. And I was the lucky girl that had his attention…for three more days.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

I looked out over the Seattle streets and said the one thing any tourist would say. “Go to the Space Needle of course.”

He grinned. “Well that’s good. We have reservations there for dinner. For now, how about a surprise?”

“Sure.”

Alec hailed a cab and we were off. He gave a set of directions that meant nothing to me and I people-watched until our ride stopped. Alec paid the driver, got out and held the door for me. I stepped out and came to a standstill.

About twenty feet in front of me was a wooden sign with giant letters in a startling white that said “Zoo.” More specifically, “Woodland Park Zoo.”

“You’re taking me to the zoo?” I smiled wide.

“Why not? I haven’t been, and I’ve lived here for years.”

“No reason.” I lifted my hand and took his once more. “Let’s check out some animals.” I didn’t tell him that I’d never been to a zoo. Ever. That wasn’t a hot spot in Vegas and once my mother left, dad stopped doing family trips of any kind.

Turned out, I really enjoyed zoos. There was so much to see, hear, touch and explore.

“So far, what’s your favorite exhibit?” Alec asked while slinging an arm over my shoulder.

I shook my head. “So many to choose from. If I had to pick one I’d go with the Ocelots.”

“The feline?”

Nodding I continued. “I can relate to the female cat. They live a solitary life, they mate when they need to, care for their young, teach them how to hunt and then set them free.” Alec’s eyebrows narrowed into points, marring his beautiful brow. “Plus, they are beautiful. If I had to be an animal I’d pick that. They’re sexy as all get out!” I finished, trying to lighten the mood. “You?”

Alec twisted his lips. I’d hoped he wouldn’t dig for information about my reply. Now was not the time to open wounds. Now was the time for experiences, making lifelong memories, especially since I was leaving so soon.

“If I had to choose one, I’d go with the arctic fox.”

That seemed an odd choice. I would have taken him for a gazelle or something exotic sounding. “Okay, why?”

“Because they form lifetime monogamous relationships. I’ve always envied people who could do that. Now I see that a stunning creature like the fox does it and well…it just gives me hope.”

“Aw, Frenchie. You’re a softy underneath all that muscle,” I tapped his chest, reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. He wound his arms around my back and kissed me hard. That’s when I heard a click.

I looked over and noticed he’d pulled up his camera and took a selfie of us making out. “Cheesy. A selfie? You, an artist? Shocked!”

“How else was I going to capture this kiss forever in time?”

I thunked on his temple. “Use your noggin. Our time together, all there in your memory.”

“And now I have it captured on film.”

We spent the rest of the day roaming through the animal exhibits. I understood now what the attraction was. Families were everywhere roaming about. Made me miss Maddy. Had she ever been to a zoo? I made it a point right then to take her in the future. There were a lot of things that Maddy and I didn’t get to do growing up. I was going to rectify that. As soon as I got my dad off his loan shark “death row” and he was awake from his coma. Hell, maybe he’d want to go along. Doubtful, but it was possible.

***

Later that evening, the cab dropped us off at the entrance to the Space Needle. First stop was the observation deck. A three hundred and sixty degree view of what the natives called Emerald City. Couples and families dotted the walk. We found a little outcropping where we could easily see the sun setting over the landscape. Breathtakingly beautiful. I stood with my hands on the rails in front and just stared out at the glorious sight. A wave of clicking broke my concentration on the visual eye candy.

“What?” I grinned over at Alec. He came close, swept his hands into my hair and kissed me. It was a kiss to remember. Slow, soft and so warm it sent a current of desire zipping through my nervous system. He pulled away and set his forehead along mine.

“You are too precious. Too beautiful. Too much for any man to keep for himself. The man that does secure your love…forever…he will be un homme très chanceux.”

“What’s that mean?” I whispered against his lips then caressed his nose with mine.

His fingers dug into the wild strands of my hair, and he held me at the nape. His eyes were the color of golden bricks, the kind that should only exist in fairy tales. “It means, he will be a very lucky man. To have your love for all eternity will make him very rich.”

“Alec,” I shook my head then leaned into his chest, the safest place I could be right then.

“Oh ma jolie, how I will miss your love in my life.” He held me as tight as I was holding him. Possibly more. Even though I had a couple more days, this was the moment I’d remember through my entire life. The time where I realized that there were many different forms of love and it was okay to love those you give a piece of yourself to, even if they don’t deserve it. Alec, he definitely deserved it, and we’d always have this time.

We made art together, and we loved together, in our own way. And that is what would matter when I looked back on my life and the decisions I made in the past. As well as any I would make in the future. My time with Alec was special and I anticipated that as I continued on this journey, each client would add to the pattern of my life.

“Come, let’s eat so we can go back home and I can ravish you for dessert!” He waggled his eyebrows then led me back to the elevator.

The dinner at the Skycity Restaurant was impressive to say the least. I’d had the jidori chicken that was coated with a scrumptious smoky mozzarella and bread pudding. It was to die for! Alec on the other hand had the prime tenderloin. It had a bacon fondue type cheese that made my knees tremble. Over dinner we’d shared bites of our food, and finally a bit about our lives before “Love on Canvas.” Alec was surprised I had been raised in the desert. He didn’t ask me about being an escort or why I chose the profession, and for that, I was grateful. He focused more on my fledgling acting career and my interest in motorcycles. In return, I found out he’d moved to the States when he was in his early twenties but visited France after every major exhibition. He’d be leaving for his country a few days after I moved onto my next client.

Connecting with Alec on a level outside of our physical attraction was nice. I could see being friends with him after I left, though nowhere near the type of friend I considered myself with Wes. My surfer guy was in a class all his own.

***

Today was the day. The Alec Dubois “Love on Canvas” exhibition. The warehouse loft had been completely transformed for a gallery event, at least that’s what I was told. I was a bit nervous to see what people’s impression of his art was going to be tonight, mostly because I was the ongoing theme in the pieces. Once finished, he had seven canvases in all on display. He said there was one past the six I knew about, but he wanted it to be a surprise. Working on the last one had taken up most of his attention the last couple days.

We needed that separation knowing that tomorrow I was getting on a plane headed for Vegas, a departure that would take me out of Alec’s life…possibly forever. No one knew what the future would bring, just that there was no stopping it.

Millie had sent over my plane tickets to Vegas and the one-way ticket to Chicago where Anthony Fasano would be picking me up personally. My time in Seattle was running out. Less than twenty-four hours and I’d be on a plane home. Gin and Maddy were picking me up and taking me straight to Dad. I needed to see my old man.

The clock read six p.m. Time to get ready for tonight. I shuffled through my suitcase and pulled out the one dress I’d brought. Being a Vegas girl, I always carried around a little black dress, one that didn’t wrinkle and could be twisted up, yet still survive in the bottom of your purse. I was pretty sure I’d either need to go barefoot, rock some flip-flops, or commit fashion suicide by wearing my motorcycle boots with the dress. As I was pondering the very limited options, a giant white box with a bright red bow landed on the bed near where I was sifting through my stuff.

“For you,” Alec’s voice speared across my senses in a sultry greeting.

I turned around and my mouth dropped open. Alec was standing there ready for the evening. He wore a suit. The first time I’d seen him in something so formal. He looked dashing to say the least. My mouth watered at the sight of his beautiful body wrapped in fine silk threads. His suit was black on black. Everything. The jacket, the shirt underneath, to the slim satin tie. Definitely worked for me. My thighs were instantly moist, and tension sizzled in the air as I let the towel I’d been wearing while getting my clothes together drop from my body.

“Douce mère de toutes les choses saintes,” he said in hushed French. That wasn’t helping my libido. Instead of bringing me down, he brought me higher. I bit down on my lip and swayed, watching him come to me. In a flash, Alec’s mouth was on mine and my back was against the wall. His hands slid down to my ass and pulled me up. I groaned as the thick wedge behind his trousers pressed me harder into the wall right where I wanted him most.

“We can’t do this now,” I warned, not really believing the words myself. I sucked at his neck and lips, and dug my heels into his lower back. He groaned as his tongue entered my mouth. For long moments, there was nothing but deep, drugging sweeps of his tongue, nips from his teeth and the press of silk against flesh.

“We can. We are.” I could feel his breath along my neck as he spoke. “Nous allons nous dépêchez.”

“What does that mean?” I sucked on the spot he loved behind his ear and clutched the tight man bun at the back of his head pulling his face back.

His eyes were dark, and held nothing but the promise to please within their inky depths.

“It means we hurry,” he flicked at his belt, undid his pants, pulled a condom out of his pocket, and in seconds, he was notched at the entrance to my sex.

“Fuck, don’t stop now, Alec. Please, give me you.” I said. He loved when I said those words and I knew it. He slid the wide crown of his cock against my center, rubbing it in the wetness there, moved his hands wide along my ass, and then impaled me.

“Sweet, Mother…” I called out, his steely shaft filled me deeper than ever before, so deep I lost my breath, then found it again when he breathed life into me with his kiss. “So good, it’s always so good with you.”

He moaned into my neck, slammed me into the wall and held me there, hung up on his cock, then dragged his hands over my sensitive skin to my breasts. Once there, he tweaked each peak hard. My nipples were two blazing hot points of need, and with every touch, twist, and pluck he sent me Nirvana-bound. “I’m gonna come,” I announced, and he grinned against the erect tip then bit down into it.

That was it. Nothing more needed. The orgasm shredded through me like a wood chipper destroys a tree trunk.

“Never forget the way you feel right now, ma jolie. Je t’aime. I love you,” Alec said before taking my mouth. My pussy clamped down around his cock giving him what he needed while he thrust into me like a madman. When he was done, he pulled me off the wall and brought me to the bed where he sat, still imbedded in me. It took several minutes to settle the quaking in my limbs. Through it all, Alec held me and soothed me the way he always did. I often thought it soothed him as much as me.

“We’re gonna be late to your own show,” I giggled.

He smiled. “With good reason.” he winked and indicated the large white box. “This is for you. To wear tonight.”

Excitedly, I jumped off him and stood at the side of the bed. He took care of the condom while I opened my present.

Inside the box, I found a champagne-colored cocktail dress. It had tiny crystals that shimmered and sparkled in the light. The neckline was loose fabric that draped over my breasts enticingly. The slight wisp of fabric that held it at the edge of my shoulder did so in a way that made the drape of the fabric look perfectly natural. The hem was just to the knee and the dress fit like it was painted on. Alec held out another box as I was straightening the dress. The shoes were Gucci originals. They were a shiny gold with a four-inch spiked heel and a touch of a platform. Utter perfection.

“Never met a woman that didn’t love shoes.”

“All women love fuck-me pumps. Especially, sexy, hot as hell ones. It’s written in our genetic code.” I shrugged. “We’re born that way.”

Alec freshened up his suit as I finished getting ready, then he led me down to the party. It was in full swing when we arrived. The second we walked through the entryway camera bulbs flashed and applause filled the room. A blonde in a tight white suit immediately took Alec away. His publicist. I hadn’t seen her since the first few days, but she had a lock on his arm that might have drawn blood if he attempted to escape. He looked over his shoulder at me. His downturned lips and narrowed brow proved he wasn’t happy. I waved and blew him a kiss.

A man with a tray of champagne offered me a drink. I took a glass of the pink bubbly and made my way over to the first painting. It was me. Of course. Yet, Alec had added so much more depth to it than the first time I’d seen it. Now it was as if I could grasp the tear sliding down my image’s cheek and smear the red lips pressed into the painting.

“No Love for Me,” was written underneath the image. I walked over about twenty feet and saw the same image only this one included the silk-screened image and the painting of me touching the heart of the original. “Love Thyself.” Reading the words was like sending a spear right through my heart to touch emotions not hidden far enough beneath the surface.

Incapable of looking at it any longer, I went over to the set of three paintings in a bundle where the most action was happening. The crowd was thick as the light shined down on the three giant canvas’s hanging side by side. Above the trio it said “Broken Love” but under each one I noticed they had their own individual names.

The first of Aiden pleasuring himself with my hand over his erection was labeled. “Forbidden Love.” Then the picture in the middle where Alec had caught a very harsh moment between Aiden and I was called “Love Hurts.” Then the last. There was a much larger crowd around this painting. Alec and I together, entwined in our passion. It was definitely the most stunning of the three. He’d added red sweeping swirls of paint all around the couple on the canvas, highlighting the fiery passion the couple shared. Below it, the name simply said, “Our love.”

And it was our love. Alec’s and mine. Beautiful, passionate, wild, yet still a love that had to be nurtured, and cared for. It’s purity captured perfectly on canvas.

I moved along the wall and watched people discuss the art. Not once did I hear any gasps, or see any scowls. That must have meant people were accepting of his vision.

This painting made me hot. Straight up wet between the thighs, and ready to jump Alec the moment I saw him again. “Selfish Love,” he’d called it. Me, pleasuring myself for the world to see. Something about it was righteous and powerful. At least it made me feel that way.

Alec’s arms wound around me as I stared at the painting.

“You like it?”

“I liked doing it more,” I said low, my words a veritable moan.

“Ah, I see. Later we shall revisit this scene, hmm?” I nodded quickly. “Let me show you the last. It is my best photograph to date.”

That was saying a lot. Alec Dubois was a truly amazing artist and photographer. His pictures could be found on everything from calendars to signed lithographs. He led me over to the one painting that had a giant white drape over it.

I stood still as a crowd of people surrounded us awaiting the reveal. “This portrait will be sold at twice the asking price. Half of that price will go to you, ma jolie.”

That shocked me, and I shook my head no several times, but he just grinned and pulled the drape off. It was me. Only it really was me. The real me. Just Mia. I was standing at the space needle observation deck looking into the horizon. My hair was blowing like a black flag in the open breeze. I was serene, happy, elated, and taken with the beauty before me. I looked free in that moment. Not stuck in the confines of a job I didn’t want but was getting used to. Not bailing out my dad or struggling to make it as an actress in LA. Raw beauty. And for the first time, I saw myself as beautiful. Alec made me see that in this image.

Tears formed in my eyes as I stared at what he’d captured. My body felt swathed in heat, the center of my vision being a bright spot of light, the rest a dark cave. I scanned the title below the painting. Tears slipped down my cheeks, falling onto the skin of my breasts and the concrete below my feet. I locked gazes with Alec, his eyes were glassy, wet, though he didn’t let any tears fall.

Beneath the most beautiful picture of me I’d ever seen, said it all.

“Goodbye, Love.”

Chapter 10

Last evening was amazing. I had felt like Cinderella at the King’s ball. Once the last picture was revealed, spectators starting connecting the dots. Newspapers, and other media professionals interviewed me, took pictures of Alec and me together, overall making a big fuss. It was fun. The glasses of champagne I’d consumed didn’t hurt my mood, either. When it was all over, there were bids for all his paintings. They would spend the next six months touring galleries. Then the buyers would have their one of a kind Dubois original. First though, Alec wanted the general public to have the opportunity to view his work. I understood that. It was his life’s passion and should be shared far and wide.

The window showed the sky was still dark, midnight in color. It had to be very close to sunrise. Before I’d gotten ready yesterday I’d packed everything up and had it hidden in a corner downstairs. My flight was early and I wanted to slip away unnoticed. As with Wes, I couldn’t bear the thought of having to say goodbye to Alec face-to-face. I scanned his sculpted face and body. Stunning, and completely dead to the world. He’d had quite a bit more of the bubbly than I’d had and chased it with some fancy French drink I’d never heard of before. Then, he’d taken me to bed, fucked me to within an inch of my life and passed out while still inside me.

It was crazy, fun, emotional love-making that symbolized the entire month. I wanted to leave with that as our last memory.

So, I slipped out of bed and tucked his t-shirt into my carryon. No reason I couldn’t have it as a keepsake. Besides, it smelled wonderfully of Alec. I grabbed the entire bag and took a shower in the bathroom below. When I made my way into the kitchen it was just before five a.m. The cab would be here in twenty minutes. I had a seven a.m. flight to Vegas.

I pulled out my special stationary and a pen. It was that time.

Alec, my beloved Frenchman -

I’m sorry to leave you like this, but it’s best if your last memory is of us making love. Because that’s what it was, making love. I should have said it to you yesterday. I don’t know why I didn’t. I do, you know? Love you, Alec. In our way. The best way. As friends, as lovers, as two people who were destined to love one another for the time we had.

I’ll always remember our time together. You taught me about all kinds of love, and the way you see it is special. It will stay with me all the days of my life. Through you and your art, I was able to see how a loving relationship could be if both partners are completely honest. You never lied, never led me on, you always told the truth. And for that, I am so grateful.

This experience, being your muse, it is something I never dreamed would change me. But it did. You did. For the better.

Thank you, Alec, for showing me that it is okay to love, to give love freely and accept the love given to me, even if it’s for a short time.

Je t’aime. Au revoir.

~Mia

I kissed the page near my name and left the note by the coffee pot. Forcing myself to walk out the door and not rush up the stairs to have one last look. Instead, I pressed the button for the elevator and met my cab at the lobby door.

***

The airport was packed. Once I’d gotten through the security rigmarole I found my gate and just barely made my plane. I sat down and hefted my purse in my lap. My phone buzzed in the front pocket. I pulled it out and felt an envelope. My heart started thumping, pounding deep in my chest, thinking maybe the call was from Alec. I read the cell display.

From: Ginelle Harper

To: Mia Saunders

Can’t wait to see your ugly mug. Now Mads is yelling at me for calling you ugly. Sorry, skank. ;-)

I laughed, put the phone in airplane mode and then flipped over the envelope. Across the front was my name scrawled in an elegant slanted penmanship. Only it wasn’t my name, it was what he called me. “Ma jolie.” My pretty, in French. I miss it already. The phrase spilling from his bowed lips in the morning, his hair a messy tumble on the pillow.

Shaking my head took the pressure off the simmering emotions threatening to explode in a deluge of tears. I opened the envelope and pulled out a card. It was a replica of a painting, one of his actually. A town in France that he’d painted at some point and had been made into greeting cards. It was as funny as it was sweet. Egomaniac.

I opened the card and out spilled a handful of pictures. Photos of the paintings along with the one of us he’d taken himself. The selfie I’d made fun of him for. I was holding his face and kissing the daylights out of him. Strands of his hair had escaped the bun and mine were flowing wildly as we kissed. The sun shined down perfectly on us. I held the picture to my chest and let the tears fall. I would miss my Frenchie. Very much.

The last photo was a copy of me, the one he’d aptly named “Goodbye, love.” It was the perfect ending to a beautiful month. He didn’t write anything in the card. His pictures said all that needed to be said.

Like Wes, I’d never forget my time with Alec. I’d cherish those memories as a part of my life wherein I truly lived and loved.

I sifted through the emails about my new client sent from Aunt Millie. I clicked on the picture icon. Holy moly. Another hottie. This was one definitely Italian. As in, Italian stallion. Where does she come up with these guys, Hotties-R-Us? Anthony “Tony” Fasano was thirty-one, an ex-boxer, which was the picture I looked at. The man’s body looked like it had been cut from tanned marble. His skin was olive-toned, hair jet black like mine, but his eyes where a steely blue. He wasn’t as tall as I usually liked my men, only around five-foot eleven, but what he lacked in height he well made up for in raw male beauty.

Based on the picture of him standing and holding a boxing belt of some kind, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. How is that possible? He owned a giant chain of Italian restaurants. That food is not known for being low cal. Maybe it was an old picture? Like Millie said, it didn’t really matter why he needed me. He just did. And I’d pretend to be his fiancée. God only knows why. A man like that, women would drop at his feet and worship for a chance to marry a rich good looking guy. Could be the same type of issue Wes had or maybe it’s just too many hoochies, not enough girl next door types.

Oh well. A few days in Vegas and I’d be off to see Anthony Fasano of Chicago, Illinois.

Bring on the windy city.

Mia’s journey continues in March (Calendar Girl).

Excerpt from March: Calendar Girl (Book 3)

The housekeeper that let me in brought me through the Penthouse apartment and beyond a set of double doors at the end of a spacious home on the fortieth floor. The elevator felt like an amusement park ride it took so long to get to the top. I’d bet good money the view was impressive.

Distractedly, the man set my bag on a padded bench in front of a monster sized bed, turned around and disappeared. That’s when I heard the sound of rushing water. Someone was taking a shower.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That was the last thing I needed. To meet my new client when he was naked. I clenched a hand around the strap of my purse and planned to make a hasty exit when the door opened. A large form emerged from a wall of steam. The lighting around his silhouette created an ethereal picture that could feature very easily on the big screen. It stopped me dead in my tracks, held aback by the force of sheer wonder.

That’s when my client, entered the room, clad only in a small towel precariously dangling from his hips. Water droplets streamed down every scintillating inch of his muscular frame. My mouth went dry and my heart might have actually stopped beating. It was okay, for I decided right then and there it would have been a good way to go.  Basically, in my twenty four years, I’d finally seen perfection in all its naked glory.

“Holy mother of God.” I was quite certain that drool may have slid over my lip and down my chin. Wes and Alec were something to write home about. And I did. Often. To Ginelle, who poured over ever letter. Anthony Fasano on the other hand was beyond the realm of female comprehension. He was massive. A brick house. Based on what I could see of his thighs peeking from under the towel, they were the size of tree trunks. Square pecs and rectangular muscle cut like a graph along his chest and abdomen. And the arms...I couldn’t even think straight for how much I wanted to touch those arms. Have them hold me close, wrap around me. Make all the hurt of the last two months go away.

Anthony’s ebony hair was slicked back, water dripped from the longer layers, and fell onto the widest shoulders I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen my fair share of naked hot guys. This guy, was ripped, and not in that gross body builder way where the muscles bulged and veins stuck out of the skin like ropes. No, he was in a league of his own. I knew he was a boxer and had seen a picture of him in his boxing shorts but that paled in comparison to the real deal. Holy shit was he the real deal. More like a handful of aces.

I licked my lips and stared, allowing my purse to drop to the bench near the foot of the bed. The “Body God’s” gaze traced my form from top to bottom. He leaned into the doorframe on one rounded, strong looking shoulder and let the towel he was holding hook around his neck. Then he crossed those forearms over his chest. Oh man, I wish he hadn’t done that. Instantly my sexy feelers flared and I had to slow my breathing in order not to pass out at the sheer male perfection before me.

Purchase March: Calendar Girl (Book 3) today!

Books and Coming Soon by Audrey Carlan

The Falling Series

Angel Falling

London Falling

Justice Falling

Trinity Trilogy

Body (Book 1)

Mind (Book 2)

Soul (Book 3 - Estimated Release 3/29/15)

Calendar Girl Serial

(A twelve month serial. New installments will be released every month throughout 2015)

January (Book 1)

February (Book 2)

March (Book 3 - Estimated Release 3/17/2015)

April (Book 4 - Estimated Release 4/2015)

May (Book 5 - Estimated Release 5/2015)

June (Book 6 - Estimated Release 6/2015)

July (Book 7 - Estimated Release 7/2015)

August (Book 8 - Estimated Release 8/2015)

September (Book 9 - Estimated Release 9/2015)

October (Book 10 - Estimated Release 10/2015)

November (Book 11 - Estimated Release 11/2015)

December (Book 12 - Estimated Release 12/2015)

Acknowledgements

To my critique partner, Sarah Saunders, not only are you the world’s best critique partner ever, you make me want to work harder, be a better author. Thank you for your commitment to me. I feel as though I get better with every book and you’re a huge part of that.

To my editor Ekatarina Sayanova with Red Quill Editing, LLC, for ripping this installment into shreds so that I could learn under your tutelage. Red Quill Editing, LLC is presently accepting new clients. (www.redquillediting.net)

Any author knows they aren’t worth their weight unless their story is backed by badass betas. I have the best!

Jeananna Goodall - This book is dedicated to you because you mean the world to me. I wanted to give you something special to show you how very special you are to me. Thank you for sticking with me through all these books. I’m very grateful to have you as part of my team.

Ginelle Blanch - You find major errors that are missed reminding me that no matter how my writing improves, or how in-depth the editing process is, I’ll forever need betas like you to prevent me from looking like an idiot! I wish I had your eagle eye but will settle for the beauty of having you on my beta team.

Anita Shofner - Still the reigning present and past tense QUEEN. With you on the job, not only do I get a class act English major beta read, but you ensure that the tiny words in-between don’t screw up my prose. Every author needs a beta like you…but they can’t have you! You’re mine!

Christine Benoit - Thank you for beta reading and verifying that my French was accurate and said what I’d wanted it to say. Your language is beautiful. I very much enjoyed adding it into my book.

Carol Ray - Thank you for being a lovely pre-reader and cheering me all the way through each chapter. Love you lady!

To Give Me Books and Kylie McDermott for spreading this book far and wide into the virtual social world! With you and your team of awesome ladies, I don’t think January would have hit best seller. Thank you for believing in my books and sharing them with your amazing fans. I adore you all.

To the Audrey Carlan Street Team of wicked hot Angels, together we change the world. One book at a time. BESOS-4-LIFE lovely ladies.

Reference Credit: Witold’s Poem that was inked on character Alec Dubois was written by Jacques Prévert, French writer (1900-1977). Poem quoted directly from http://www.witoldk.com/sites/prevert.html.

About Audrey Carlan

Audrey Carlan is a multiple times Amazon bestselling author. She lives in the sunny California Valley two hours away from the city, the beach, the mountains and the precious…the vineyards. She has been married to the love of her life for over a decade and has two young children that live up to their title of “Monster Madness” on daily basis. When she’s not writing wickedly hot romances, doing yoga, or sipping wine with her “soul sisters”, she can be found with her nose stuck in book or her Kindle. A hot, smutty, romantic book to be exact!

Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated and feeds the soul. You can contact Audrey below:

Email: carlan.audrey@gmail.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorAudreyCarlan

Website: www.audreycarlan.com

Twitter: @AudreyCarlan

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7831156.Audrey_Carlan

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Excerpt from March: Calendar Girl (Book 3)

Books and Coming Soon by Audrey Carlan

Acknowledgements

About Audrey Carlan

Content

Карлан Одри February (Calendar Girl #2)