Her cancer, and its cure, had taken so much from her, and now that she had just gotten back to what she assumed normal must feel like, she wouldn’t let it take any more.
Yes, the contract was signed, but Tristan could never know what she’d had to conquer to get here. She wouldn’t let her illness control or influence any more of her life.
She wanted him to always look at her the way that he was now – with the intense possessiveness and desire that set every nerve fiber on fire. If that were to ever be clouded by the inevitable pity that was sure to follow the revelation of her cancer, Ellie was sure she would die.
She had to hope the whole bit about taking off her clothes wasn’t serious; she still had too many scars on her arms from being poked and prodded, to the point where even being a recovering addict would seem like a stretch. It was sad that her first response to the idea of getting naked was that he couldn’t find out about her battle with cancer, instead of a normal concern like ‘should he be asking me to take my clothes off?’ or ‘what is he going to do to me if I take my clothes off?’
It was a modeling job; many times, especially for art, that involved removing clothes so, in retrospect, if she wasn’t ok with it, she shouldn’t have auditioned.
Why had she auditioned?
She asked herself again for the thousandth time between yesterday and today.
For once, she wanted someone to look at her and not see her illness; to desire her and not just desire to help her; to appreciate her and not just because of what she had to overcome. She refused to be defined by her illness any longer, starting with this, starting with Tristan Black.
“All done?” came his deep baritone voice from the kitchen, the sound reverberating through her entire body.
“Yes, I think so,” she mumbled, forcing aside the train of thought that she’d stumbled upon.
She pushed the pen and contract away from her on the table, just like she pushed away all of her uncertainties over what she had just agreed to do.
You can do this.
She stood up, gripping the edge of the table as she tried to ignore the lightheadedness and nausea that accompanied her sudden movement.
Just breathe, Ellie.
Head-rushes were common for her, but since she’d been on her new meds, they’d become much more frequent. He already knew her to be a klutz, so hopefully, the swaying a bit on standing didn’t raise any red flags.
Pretending to arrange her blouse for a second allowed the feeling to pass so she could turn to face him confidently and with a clear head. Well, it was clear, until she met his eyes, the hazel in them almost turning to a bright gold as he watched her. They were mesmerizing, just like he was. A golden God, standing in front of her in jeans and a t-shirt. If she had any artistic talent, she’d be asking him to strip down in return, but alas, her skills were dismal which meant that the all she could do was just imagine what lay underneath.
What she wouldn’t give to touch him; the hard planes of his chest, the muscles in his arms…
Ellie bit her lip just in time to escape a small moan from escaping her mouth. She’d never thought of someone like this before; she’d also never known someone so good-looking before. Her face flushed as she realized that his slightly inquisitive gaze had turned into full-blown intrigue as he caught her eyeing him up and down. A dangerous smile began to spread across his lips, and she could have kicked herself for being so obvious.
“So, what happens next?” she asked, trying to divert the conversation from her obvious admiration, “or were you serious when you said that you wanted me to take my clothes off?”
Chapter 6
Tristan let out a bark of laughter.
Who was this woman?
One second, she was debating walking out the door. Of course, she tried to hide it, but when her focus was on reading the contract in front of her, her anxiety managed to slip out subtly into her posture; he even caught her brief need to stabilize on the table as she stood, probably from the emotional rush of signing his contract, knowing what it could entail.
And then, the next second, she’s the one eyeing him up. He knew that look and he knew how he looked. He’d been on the receiving end of that stare a thousand times before, from probably a thousand different women all with their mind on one thing, but with Ellie, it was different. Her look of abject appreciation for him, the unfettered longing emanating from her gaze, it made his blood boil with desire, seeing…knowing…that she wanted him. From the way she stared, and the way she embarrassingly realized that she had been caught doing it, could it be that she’d never felt this way about someone before? To be so caught off-guard by her own attraction to him.
There was no way that was true, but he was going to find out.
And, to top it all off, recovering from her embarrassment to taunt him brazenly. How could he help but laugh? Elsa Carter was a walking contradiction, and one that he was going to enjoy solving.
“No, Elsa, you can leave your clothes on,” he said, letting some gravity back into his tone with the use of her full first name, “for now.”
He watched as she visibly relaxed at his words, even though she’d been the one to suggest it, there was a part of her that was against her being here.
Interesting.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
Let’s start this slow.
As much as she wanted to appear like she was unfazed by everything that was going on, he knew better, and having her pretending wasn’t going to allow her to fall for him. No, he needed her relaxed, comfortable, willing to let down her guard and let him in.
“What do you mean?” she returned, confusion evident in her tone. “I’m here because you picked me. At the audition, yesterday.”
He shook his head as she misunderstood his question, purposefully taking it too literally.
“No, Elsa Carter, I want to know why you are here, why you auditioned to do this. I’ve gone through this process many times; I’ve seen all different types of women come out and audition, which is why I know that you’ve never done something like this before. So, again, why did you choose to audition for this? What are you looking for?” he explained, his eyes locking on hers, preventing her gaze from shifting, preventing her mind from coming up with an answer other than the truth.
“I wanted to do something different, something that was outside of my comfort zone,” she responded, her chin lifting as if to dare him to question her.
Ok, that was true, but it didn’t seem like the whole truth to him.
“Why the sudden desire to challenge yourself?” And me.
“Because I was tired of who I was; I needed to change.”
More cryptic answers.
“And, who exactly were you, Miss Carter?” he probed, delving deeper for the answer that he was looking for. Her eyes flared at his formal tone, yet personal question; she didn’t back down though.
“I was scared, trapped by my fears of living and experiencing life. I was stuck in the same place for a long time and I didn’t realize how much I had to lose. So now, I’m changing; I’m living. I’m doing things the old prim and proper Elsa Carter would never do. So, you can try to unnerve me, Mr. Black, but I’m stronger and more stubborn than I look, and I am doing this, whatever it might entail, for me,” her words came out in a determined rush, almost like when she nervously rambled, but this was different; she might be nervous, but this not so ‘prim and proper’ Ellie was aching to come out and make herself heard.
“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” he asked, with a half-smile, casually walked back over to her, taking his time as if he were stalking his prey, watching every subtle reaction and response that his movements triggered play across her face.
“I don’t know. Are you?” she replied, her bravado faltering for a moment as he came to stand inches away from her.
Ellie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch, she didn’t move to sit back down or awkwardly shift and break her gaze from his; she stood there
, her chin tilted up slightly, and stayed her ground, waiting for whatever he had planned next.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m trying,” he began, his voice a coarse whisper as his head leaned closer to hers, their faces separated by maybe an inch, “I would say that I’m succeeding.”
His face moved even closer to hers as he finished his taunt, their lips barely separated. Her mouth parted slightly at his tease, but she was unable to respond, her body completely overwhelmed by his physical closeness. Finally, her eyes broke from his to stare at his mouth, licking her lips with the anticipation of his kiss. She was completely entranced, which had been his goal; the fact that he was too, however, was a problem.
Well, that backfired.
He had wanted to take hold of her confession and her dare to try and rattle her, to show her just how unsettled he could make her. It had been going pretty smoothly for him, right up until a few seconds ago, when her mouth had parted and her eyes staring at his lips in expectation of his kiss. The sexual tension between them was thick and stifling – which is what he wanted. He wanted to come over and prove that as strong as she was, her attraction to him was stronger, that he was stronger, build her up to exactly where she was and then walk away. But, now that he stood here, a breath away from kissing her, he didn’t know that he could stop himself.
Her shallow, labored breathing the past few seconds mirrored the pounding of her heart. Tristan stared into the jade of her eyes, her lids heavy and aching for the excuse to close. Ellie licked her lips, sending a bolt of desire straight to his groin. She’d worn no make-up again, which meant the peachy-pink of her lips was all-natural. The full, moist flesh just begging to be kissed and explored.
God, how he wanted her, which is why he needed to step back before he really scared her away.
Tristan inhaled deeply, letting the oxygen flood his brain with reason as he prepared to extricate himself from the alluring depths of desire that had ensnared him. As if sensing that he was about to move away, she bit her full and decadent lower lip in disappointment, and that was all it took.
“Shit,” he groaned out on his exhale, as his mouth closed the distance between them and captured her achingly sweet lips.
His tongue used the sharp intake of her breath to gain entry into the warm depths of her mouth. Exploring the soft flesh within, coaxing out her tongue in response. His groan reverberated deep in his chest as her tongue tentatively began to toy with his.
God, she was so innocent.
Tristan knew that he shouldn’t be doing this; he should not be kissing her right now, not on the very first day. That was a mistake. He needed her to truly fall for him, and giving into his desire right now ran the risk of scaring her away by moving too fast and taking advantage of her desire to break free from the chains of her old self.
But he couldn’t stop himself.
She was exquisite; she tasted delicious – like warm vanilla. The intoxicating mix of innocence and eagerness electrified every cell in his body. The satisfaction he experienced when her desire overcame her inhibitions, when she gave in to him, gave in to what she wanted, fueled his passion. Somehow, he found it within himself to keep their contact just to their kiss; his hands were clenched at his sides, flexing painfully with the need to touch her. His erection painful against the front of his jeans, aching for release.
If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
He had enough of a brain to know that much, at least. But it would be enough for now, he thought as his mouth continued to play over hers, finally able to draw the soft fullness of her lower lip into his mouth. Her soft moan egged him on. Releasing the flesh that he held captive, he deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing farther inside of her. He felt her mouth begin to close around his tongue, as she returned his torture, gently sucking on his tongue. Hunger burned through him, surprised by her action.
He should have known she would torment him in return; he should have known not to underestimate her. She was entirely unpredictable.
He groaned deeply into her mouth, relishing the pressure on his tongue before she finally released him. The kiss quickly ignited into something more. She learned quickly as their tongues dueled, each trying to take more from the other. He heard her moan softly into his mouth as she tipped into him.
She needed to touch him.
The thought was brief in her mind just before she realized that her hands had moved up to rest on the hard planes of his chest, helping to steady herself. Underneath her hands, Ellie felt Tristan’s chest burn. The flesh hard and firm underneath her fingertips. At least this time she knew that her lack of balance wasn’t from the medication. She’d never experienced anything like this. Of course, she’d kissed guys before, but that didn’t even seem like the appropriate word to describe what they were doing right now. He was consuming her; he’d kissed her and somehow managed to reach that part deep down inside of her that was begging to be let out, the part of her that wanted to forget her past, forget her inhibitions, to forget herself. And for a second, she allowed herself to.
Tristan let out a hiss as her hands touched his chest, lust searing through him. He hadn’t expected her to touch him first and that mistake would cost him. Before he could think, his hands were on her hips lifting to set her on the table, coming to stand between her legs.
God, she felt incredible.
Hands grasping the firm flesh of her hips, he relished the feel and friction of her soft curves pressed up against him, their bodies flush from hip to shoulder. The feel of her nipples hard and aroused through the fabric of her bra and blouse made his erection swell even more firmly against the cradle of her hips.
The seconds that it took for his body to process the desire raging inside of his, was just enough for her to process it too; his sudden movement had thrown her off. It put a barely-perceptible crack in her show of bravado, but from his perspective, her reaction was as evident as an earthquake.
He’d gone too far, too fast, just like he was afraid of.
Her lips pulled ever so slightly away from his, with a sharp intake of breath; her hands, instead of gripping his shirt like before, were now flat and gave him the slightest sensation of pressure pushing against him.
Fuck.
He groaned in anguish, enjoying the feel of her against him for one last millisecond before forcing himself away from her. As calmly and swiftly as he could, he picked her up off the table, allowing Ellie to stand on her own, as he stepped back a good three feet from her.
Get ahold of yourself, Tristan.
His eyes hardened as he coolly observed her flustered state; her hand coming up to touch her beautifully swollen lips, her flushed cheeks and labored breathing, the momentary self-assessment before she finally raised her spellbound gaze to his.
Her eyes looked back at him with inquisitive astonishment, wondering what had just happened. She probably hadn’t even realized the minute hesitation that Tristan had felt from her – which was good; it meant that he hadn’t ruined everything. He’d been able to pull away just before he’d crossed the line where the ‘old Elsa,’ as she liked to refer to her more practical and restrained side, would have taken control and probably ripped up the contract she had just signed and stormed out of his apartment – with a high likelihood of some sort of physical refutation of the liberties that he had just taken, regardless of whether she was a willing participant or not.
She’s a redhead, Tristan. Of course, she would smack you before walking out.
Thankfully… thankfully, he had narrowly avoided that circumstance. Even though she seemed flustered, she didn’t look like she was about to bolt.
“I think we can definitely consider you ‘unnerved,’” Tristan half-heartedly joked, breaking the pregnant silence. Her eyes immediately shot to his, a flare of defiance radiating out of them.
Much better.
Although, her reason for being here required a slight alteration in his tactics.
“I…umm…I don’t know what--” E
llie began, awkwardly stumbling over her words, or lack thereof.
“I apologize for getting a little carried away there, Elsa,” he began, his voice deepening with severity. “While I do intend to get to know you, that was not quite what I meant. I can assure you that it won’t happen again.”
Until you ask for it, which you won’t; you will want me so badly, you will want to give into your desire so badly, you’ll beg.
“Yes…of course, it’s fine,” she mumbled, biting her swollen lip, “so then, what does happen now?”
His lips thinned for a second, before he responded. “Come back tomorrow at six,” he instructed her, as if she was just another client of his, as if he hadn’t just been about to ravish her on his dining room table not even a minute ago.
She nodded, gathering up her purse and making her way to the door.
“Thank you, Tristan. I look forward to working with you,” she said, pausing inside the doorway, “have a good night.”
He didn’t trust himself to follow her too closely; his desire for her still burning through his veins, aching to be fulfilled.
“Not as much as I…” his words stopping her as he turned to face her retreating form, “Oh, and Elsa, wear something nice.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she gave a nod of acknowledgement closing the door behind her.
The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1) Page 7