Dancing Barefoot (15 page)

"
Baise-moi
," she answered with a grin.

"I love that you learned French for me."

"Just—"

"The important phrases, I know." He swirled his tongue over her nipple with lazy indulgence, his breath hot on her skin.

She slid her hands over the muscles of his shoulders and biceps, the touch of his skin beneath her fingertips feeling familiar and foreign at the same time.  She needed to taste him, indulge in having him in her bed with the outside world locked out for now.  She rolled him onto his back and pinned his arms to the sides. For a minute, she simply absorbed the sight of him lying beneath her, his hair falling over one eye, him smiling, dimples showing. 

Grinning, she slid her naked body against his before kissing his chest with slowness. His hands were in her hair, gentle, as she kissed a path down his abdomen. Her mouth found his erection. She needed to taste him, claim him as hers once again. She ran her tongue over the tip of his penis. Teased. Tasted.

When she heard him whispering in French, she knew she had driven him beyond the point of no return. She took him fully in her mouth, hands moving over him, staking out her territory. With every stroke of her tongue, she knew she brought him closer to the brink. 

Breaking off contact, she glanced up at his face now flushed with passion, eyes half closed as he watched her. She rose up and sank onto him, needing him inside her. Deep. She rested her hands on his hard abdomen, gaze locked with his as she rocked against him, faster and faster. The orgasm started deep inside her and shuttered through her body like an intense electrical shock. 

His fingers sank into her flesh as his body quaked with release. 

She sank against him, mouth finding his in a long, slow kiss that solidified their union. Words ached to be said, whispered against his mouth, but she feared she'd ruin the moment with a declaration he might not yet believe. 

He pushed back her hair with one hand while the other held her firmly against his chest. "No condom, I'm sorry. I should have—"

"Stop, don't." Looking away from him, she buried her face into his shoulder.  She didn't want to think about reality yet, not when the fantasy felt so damn good.  She didn't want to think of him sharing his bed with Simone all these years. Not yet and especially not now.

He wrapped both arms around her shoulders and held her tight against him. Neither said a word for a long time, just held each other in silence, limbs still entangled together. All the raging emotions that had plagued her earlier poked at the bubble of euphoria protecting them.

"Why do I feel this is impossible?" he asked against the top of her head.

She rose up on her elbows and studied his face. It would be easy to brush aside his comments or feel hurt by them, but instead she felt an urge to shield this—them—from anything that could bring them down. 

"
That's not like you to say. You were always the champion of 'all things are possible.'" She toyed with his hair that covered one of his eyes and grinned. "All in, remember?"

His embrace tightened around
her waist. "I'm older and wiser..."

"
You've gotten more depressing over the years."

"
I'm Belgian. We can be depressing at times." With a lazy grin, he smoothed his hands over her bare back.  "I know you don't want to talk about Simone, but as far as she is concerned, we are together. It's not an easy situation."

"How about as far as you are concerned?" She kissed his neck, her hands sliding over his bare shoulders. "In your heart, do you belong to her...or me?"

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "That's not a fair question. You have me in a compromising position."

"Exactly," she said against his ear before sucking his ear lobe. 

"She's rather intense..."

"So am I...haven't you noticed?"
She smiled against his cheekbone.

In one move, he flipped her onto her back, their legs entwined, laughter captured between their lips. His hands moved over her as if rediscovering a lost piece of art. Slow. Appreciative. Hard again, he slid himself inside her and moved with slow deliberation. His mouth sucked on her lower lip, eyes wide open and staring into hers.  His fingers trailed down her arms before lacing themselves with hers.  Every stroke of his hips against hers sent ripples of
pleasure through her body. 

She wrapped her thighs around his, held him as close to her as he could be.  Even if he didn't say the words, she knew he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him. It was as if their souls had always been connected.

He thrust into her. Deeper, harder than before. Surrendering to pleasure, she closed her eyes and simply felt him moving inside her while he pinned her to the mattress.  She'd had sex since him...but she hadn't made love. 

"I missed you," she gasped.

"I missed you, too.  You have no idea, none." He moaned while his body shuttered in release. 

She wrapped him in the cocoon of her arms and legs while she buried her face into the curve of his neck.  She didn't want him to leave, feared that everything would fall apart as soon as he walked from her building. 

"You...to answer your question...it's always been you," he said.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that considering the book and everything."

He disentangled himself from her hold and rolled to the side.  He laughed at the ceiling. "This is madness."

"Love is madness. I think a poet said that...or is it a song?"

"Insanity. We can't pretend that we've never been apart, that we haven't lived full lives without each other. We're not twenty-seven and wild anymore."

"Oh, I think you're still pretty wild."

He laughed again without looking at her. "We aren't being realistic."

"Why not?" She propped up on an elbow and studied his face. "No more secrets between us, no matter how insecure we are about them.
We'll give our relationship a chance this time. Be mad with me, Jacques."

"Are you capable of embracing madness, Jess? What will people say?" His lips twitched when he met her gaze. Boldness darkened his eyes to deep green.
 

She sank against his chest and nipped his chin with her teeth. "You bring out
my inner wild child and I like it."

"
We need to consider it a trial run of sorts," he said while moving his hands up and down her back. "Kevin will be around a lot, though, coming and going. Carter, too. Ava from time-to-time. You know how it is with me already."

"I'll be working long hours with my new project
and hoping it all doesn't go to hell on me. We all go to happy hour on Fridays...at McDougal's with Sela and Jane...I'm sure Kevin and Carter would be welcome."

He smiled
against her mouth. "I guess we are picking up where we left off, aren't we?"

"Almost." Her smile faded thinking of Simone. Whatever held them together could still be an issue. Maybe. 

His smile faded, too, as if reading her mind.

"I think we both need a shower." She bit his shoulder, enjoying
reacquainting herself with his body. 

"You're going to wreck me." He rolled from the bed, pulling her with him. 

"Oh, I don't want to wreck you, believe me." She curved her hands over his ass as he backed toward the bathroom.  "I want to savor you, enjoy every last inch of you."

They both laughed even though their eyes filled with a deeper emotion and hearts swelled with a love that had never been extinguished.  She led him to the shower, neither breaking physical contact, and swore that this time she'd get it right. No matter what. 

* * *

Chapter Nine

Wearing only her blue robe covered with moons and stars that skimmed his knees, he sat on the day bed upstairs surrounded by her canvases. Jessica knelt next to him, talking about each one with the same fire in her eyes she'd always had when discussing art. Wearing only a pair of panties and a Bruins' jersey, she looked about ten years younger. She'd allowed her hair to dry naturally so curls sprung to life around her face, strands as wild as he remembered, although he missed it long and flying down her back.   

"Which ones will you show on Friday?" he asked once she'd finally settled back onto an oversized pillow and propped a glass of wine against her knee. 

"Nice try, but none." She averted her eyes to the stack that had accumulated around them. "It's mine."

"Sacred?" he asked, thinking of her words in the park. 

"Yeah...sacred." She smiled when she dragged her gaze to his. 

"Am I to be locked away from view, too, then
, like a sacred artifact?"

She sipped her wine before answering. "I suppose not, there are too many people dying to meet you."

He frowned, still not fully accepting the idea that this was happening. "Who?"

"Sela and Jane. They think you're sexy...and they're both a little annoyed with me for keeping secrets." She rolled her shoulders back as if shaking off reality.

"This is a big apartment for just one person, nice location." He thought it best to sidestep any sensitive subjects. He hadn't felt this way in years and didn't want to burst the bubble. Yet.

"My grandmother's." She grinned, her face soft with memory. "Didn't I ever tell you that?"

He shook his head, fascinated by every word she said and realized how little he knew about her childhood.

"Yeah, she owned it.
I used to crawl around over there when I was little and draw on the walls. She never scolded me for it no matter how horrible the mess." She pointed toward the area that now housed her easel. "She died my freshman year of college and I moved in. Sela lived up here, actually...the woman who's dying to meet you. She's an assistant district attorney now, hard to believe."

History, that's what she had here. No wonder she couldn't understand his nomadic ways. She'd never talked about Boston or her fam
ily when they'd been together. They'd lived as if it were only the two of them, cherished the moment, indulged in fantasy. 

He glanced around the space, imagining her as a little girl playing here. She'd had this place waiting for her all the while he'd been trying to convince her to stay with him with no guarantees of a roof over their heads.

"Tell me about your house in Florence," she whispered as if reading his mind.

"
It's empty. It was an impulse buy. I should sell it, let it go."  He shrugged.

She pointed a finger at him, black hair falling across one eye when sh
e cocked her head to the side. "Don't you dare sell it. I imagine it has the beautiful lighting of Florence, that special golden light that I'd only ever seen there."

"It has a lot of lighting because most of it is falling to pieces. When I bought it, I imagined my architect wife rebuilding it as she saw fit. But—poof—she vanished and the building rots."

"Sounds like a problem I might be able to help you with."

"Maybe. I will need some references and pictures of your work before I make that decision."

She smacked him in the shoulder and laughed.

He never wanted this feeling to end, but knew it would as soon as he left her.  He'd already seen the many missed calls and text messages on his cell phone, knew Simone had landed in Boston hours ago, and was raising hell with Kevin back at the hotel. He shook his head to stop the train of thought. He needed to stay in the moment with Jessica discussing
artwork and grandmothers. 

"Where'd you go just now? You looked sad."

"The house," he cleared his throat and closed his eyes, imagining the house he had bought before leaving Italy. "It has arching windows covered in layers of dust. It needs a lot of work. My motorcycle is there. I parked it in the living room before locking the place up. There's also an overgrown garden in the back, small but charming."

"Tell me more." She inched forward. "Where is it? Is it close to Boboli Gardens or the Duomo or..."

"This is all very strange to me, Jess. Being here with you, talking about Florence, making plans...I worry we are moving too fast again." He averted his gaze, mind traveling to Simone against his will. She'd promised to ruin him if he ever left her, swore she'd tell the world all of his dirty little secrets just as his career was talking off. He had no doubt she'd do it, too. 

She
tugged at the sleeve of the robe. "What's going on, Jacques? I've been doing all the talking, not enough listening."

"It's nothing for you to worry about." He framed her face in his hands and stared
into those blue eyes of hers.  He knew he should probably warn her about Simone's ammunition, but he couldn't. Not yet. "Are you certain about us trying again? So soon? A week ago you didn't know I still existed."

"Oh, I knew you existed." The way she grinned had him horny all over again.

He smiled in response, unable to resist her. "You were going to run away from me at the bookstore."

"But I didn't." She skimmed her fingers over his hands. "
Right now I could tell you a thousand reasons why we can't make it work, but I'd rather focus on the reasons we will. I know I'm not one to talk about leaps of faith or trust or risk taking but...I'm willing to do whatever it takes this time. I'm all in, just like I said.  "

"Whatever it takes?" His heart hammered loud and proud. A few days ago—hell, this afternoon—he'd doubted her sincerity and now here he sat in a robe decorated with moons and stars. He'd gone mad, p
robably from lack of nicotine. He shook his head, unable to prevent the doubts from cracking the contentment. 

He pulled her against his chest and buried his face in her hair.
She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. 

"I can't believe you and Ava lost contact for over a year." She slipped her hand inside the robe and caressed his chest. "Did you have a falling out or did you just go off the grid for awhile?"

He shut his eyes and sighed. He didn't know how to discuss certain things without wrecking this delicate peace they'd achieved. 

The sound of the office phone ringing made them break apart. Jessica frowned toward the small room at the end of the hallway. "No one ever calls that phone, it's the only landline in the house, I never use it."

She stood and walked toward the sound.

Thankful for the reprieve he sat on the edge of the daybed, glanced up at the painting of their former apartment a world away, and wished like hell he'd followed her here when he'd had a chance to take another path in life. 

"I've got to go," she said, rushing past him toward the stairs, "apparently, the office has been trying to call me all evening. There's been a fire at my new project."

He swallowed hard and followed at her heels. Suddenly their night together felt like a stolen moment that would never be repeated. He grabbed her by the elbow and looked her in the eye. "I know you're in a hurry, that you need to go, but I need to tell you that I..."

"That you what?" She smiled, laying a hand on his chest and swaying toward him.

He thought of Simone waiting back at the hotel, of the bond that held them together despite his desire to break free, and wished he
had confided in her just as she had confided in him about her mother.  He hadn't told anyone...ever...and he wished he'd been honest. What had he said earlier about her being the expert liar? Well, maybe that label fit him more accurately. 

"What is it?" She slipped her arm free so she could change clothes.

He slipped from the robe and reached for his discarded jeans without saying anything. 

"
Sincore—that's my client—wants me there, probably because the damage will affect our plans, this may take all night, I don't know." She shoved both hands through her hair before rushing into the bathroom to put on makeup.  "You can stay here, if you want. I know you were escaping the fray tonight." She smiled into the mirror, her gaze catching his in the reflection. "Why don't you check out of the hotel tomorrow? Move in now instead of after the exhibit? Why not?"

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her getting ready. His throat closed in, trapping all the words he wanted to say.  He'd called her a coward...he really needed to censor himself more. 

"Simone arrived tonight, I checked my text messages earlier, after the shower," he admitted quietly, not taking his gaze from her reflection. "I need time."

She broke eye contact and finished applying her makeup in silence.  Without looking at him, she
pulled a pair of red-rimmed eyeglasses from her messenger bag and checked herself in the full-length mirror.

"Everything I've said to you, I've meant. Tonight, every word—"

"Don't go. Wait here for me. Sleep, watch TV, whatever," she interrupted without looking at his face. "We had us back for a little while, Jacques, and I don't want that to end."

"It's not ending, I'm—"

"Simone's holding something over you, you lost contact with Ava—which blows my mind like you cannot imagine, so it's obvious we have a lot of talking to do. Alone." She faced him, hands on hips, blue eyes flashing from behind the funkiest pair of eyeglasses he'd ever seen, and looked more determined than ever to stand her ground. "I can't help but think that if you leave here before we've had that discussion, we'll lose the progress we made tonight."

"All in, remember?" He stood and ran his hands over her arms that were now covered in a blue blouse that hung loose over black jeans. "After the exhibit—"

"No, I don't trust it. If you see her, she'll do whatever it is she does to convince you to stay. Don't go, Jacques. Stay here." She stepped away, grabbed her cell phone from the table where she'd left it shut off, and walked toward the living room. "I need to go, this is the first project I'm heading up and my damn phone was off all night."

"Are you calling a taxi
?"

"No, I've got a motorcycle in the back garage." She smiled at him while she slipped on her leather coat. "I missed yours from back in the day so I learned to ride. It's also easier to maneuver in Boston traffic."

"You confuse me more and more." He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shook his head at the twists and turns of his life. "I'll stay here, wait for you, I promise."

After she'd gone, he collapsed back onto her sofa and wished like hell he'd never come to Boston. If he'd stayed away, they would have remained ideals for one another, a good
dream of what-ifs; instead, he was about to unleash a whole lotta bad into her life and he doubted that she'd look at him the same again.

* * *