Out of Control (Untamed #2)

by Jinsey Reese

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice from behind me. He didn’t reach out to touch me, and for once I was glad—there was no way I’d be able to hold it together if he did. “I’m just…stressed. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  I nodded, unable to find my voice as I tried to untie my robe. My shaking hands failed to cooperate as I yanked and pulled at the tie around my waist, suddenly feeling like I couldn’t breathe. It was too tight—why had I tied it so fucking tight?—and it needed to come off NOW. My breathing quickened as I fought with both my belt and the tears of frustration that threatened to erupt.

  I choked out a sob, and Dare stilled my hands. He reached out from behind me to gently untie the belt and set me free. Air rushed into my lungs and I could breathe again. Dare spun me around, took hold of my hands. He stared at them quaking in his larger ones for a few beats, then looked up at my face.

  Seeing my expression, his eyes widened. “Shit. What’s wrong? Did I do this?”

  I shook my head and swallowed. Taking a deep breath, I found my center. “Not everything is about you, Princess,” I said, and he almost smiled.

  “What happened?”

  I wrapped my arms around my body and shrugged. “Just a really bad day at work.”

  As I told him about Lucien, Dare’s shoulders stiffened and his eyes got dangerously dark—I could feel the anger vibrating through him, rolling off him in intensely vicious waves.

  “I’m picking you up from work tomorrow,” he said, his jaw tight. “I’ll have a talk with the asshole.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s NOT fine. That guy needs to be put in his place.”

  “I don’t want to cause problems,” I told him. I had no idea what Dare’s intentions with Lucien were, and I couldn’t be responsible for Dare getting blacklisted from the Parisian art scene.

  “You’re not the one causing the problems. He is.” He studied my face. “Do you want to take today off? If you’re not up for this right now, it’s fine.”

  “Honestly, I’d rather work. And you need to work. I’m okay.” I slipped the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, only belatedly thinking about the fact that I’d be standing naked right next to him when I did.

  Dare looked down at my body, his gaze heating. The feel of his eyes on my skin had the power to erase all that had happened, and I forgot about everything but him. I could feel the warmth from his body as if it were caressing my bare skin, peaking my nipples and making me pulse in my most private places.

  My voice was breathless when I said, “How do you want me?”

  His eyes flicked up to mine, and the hunger I saw there matched my own. He swayed toward me, like he was lulled by my nearness, but then he shook himself, ran his hands through his hair, and took a step back.

  “Let’s do a new pose tonight. Something comfortable. Something…free.” He backed away to his easel, slipped behind it, safe in his world of shapes and shadows, color and light.

  I lay down on the futon, on my back, my hair spread out around my head, one arm resting on my abdomen, the other hanging off the edge of the mattress. I watched him work, listening to the rhythm of his strokes, dreaming it was his hands on my body instead of his brushes on canvas.

  fourteen

  I spent the next morning checking out artists that Marie had recommended to me. One of them, a guy named Jean-Pierre, had serious potential. He worked mostly in watercolors and specialized in landscapes. While I didn’t usually find that subject particularly fascinating, his paintings really caught my eye.

  I wasn’t even sure what it was—a combination of the loose style and palette perhaps. Or maybe it was his use of shadow and light. I couldn’t narrow it down to only one thing that spoke to me.

  Art, like love, was one of those undefinable things in life. Sometimes it was just about the feeling it gave you, and YOU alone. The kind of feeling that made your heart beat to a different tune, and the entire world look just a tiny bit brighter. His art was like that, and I was pretty certain I’d be setting up a show for him, too.

  When I returned to the gallery after lunch, I was giddy with excitement over my new find, feeling like I was in the right place, and that things were finally syncing. I confirmed some details with Marie over the phone, then spent a good hour filling out paperwork for her show.

  The gallery was eerily quiet, and I suddenly became aware of him behind me, lurking.

  “Lucien, I’m busy right now,” I said, my voice tight. “Please leave.”

  His hands slid onto my shoulders, sending a shudder down my spine. I shrugged him off, and turned to look at him.

  And that’s when I noticed the office door was closed.

  My eyes flew to his, goosebumps prickling over my skin, my heart starting to pound. Something about this felt very wrong. Cold fear flooded my veins as I forced myself to breathe and stay in control.

  I tried to keep calm as I said, “I’m working. I’ve got to get this done.”

  “Ah, but you work too hard, chérie,” he said, his voice like oil—slippery smooth and leaving a slimy residue. “I can help you relax.” He stepped closer.

  “No.” I quickly stood, placing my chair between us. “I don’t need to relax.” I glanced at the clock on the desk. Shit. It was already two-thirty. Dare would be here any minute. “I need to finish this so I can go home.”

  “What are you doing every night that you do not have time for your good friend Lucien?”

  “I’m modeling for an artist,” I said, slowly inching toward the door.

  Lucien’s eyes lit up, and he raked his gaze down the length of me, undressing me with unabashed boldness.

  He stepped toward me again. “How about you model for me sometime, chérie?”

  “You’re not an artist.” You’re just a perv.

  “But of course I am,” he said, reaching out to touch me, “and you would be my perfect muse. Nude, yes?”

  I darted for the door, but he got there first, his hands grabbing my arms, pulling me against his body. Oh, god. Revulsion shook me as I felt his erection against my stomach and I pushed against him as hard as I could.

  “Let go of me!” I screamed, panic filling my chest. The tighter he held me, the more I struggled. I stomped on his foot and he cursed, releasing me just as the tones rang out in the gallery.

  I yanked the door open as Lucien’s hand cracked across my cheek sending me crashing into the doorframe, tumbling out onto the gallery floor. Stars sparked behind my eyes as the shock of the blow stunned me. The sound of fists meeting flesh and Lucien moaning on the floor brought me back.

  Someone was hovering over me.

  “Are you okay?” Dare’s brow was crinkled in concern, his eyes flashing. “What did he do to you? Do I need to call the police?”

  I shook my head. “I’m okay. He just…” I started shaking then, thinking about what Lucien had been about to do, what he might have done if Dare hadn’t come in just then. My breathing went from zero to full-out hyperventilation in about 2.6 seconds. Darkness threatened at the edges of my vision as pins and needles spread through my fingers and toes.

  Dare wrapped his arms around me and held on tight. “Put your head down,” he said. “Breathe into your hands—I don’t have a bag.” He rubbed my back, and I could feel his calm seeping into my body from his warm hands. “You’re safe, Ree. I’ve got you.”

  By the time we got back to our apartments, I could breathe again.

  It was over. I was fine.

  I’d called Sabine and she’d fired Lucien on the spot, ensuring me she would make certain he could never work in another gallery again. I don’t know what Dare had said or done to him behind the closed office door while I was on the phone with Sabine, but Lucien left in a hurry without even looking at me. It was such a relief to know I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.

  I went to my place to take a shower, then headed over to Dare’s apartment. He
glanced up in surprise when I entered his studio. The moment his gaze fell on my face, worry flashed in his eyes. A bruise had formed on my cheek where Lucien had hit me. Dare got up to get a closer look, gently prodding it with his fingers. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sink my heated cheek into his palm, but I held back.

  I had no idea where we stood. He’d saved me today and I couldn’t contain the immense gratitude I felt. It didn’t fit neatly into a box, a thank you, or an embrace. It overflowed and filled the studio, seeping into everything I saw and touched.

  It colored my world.

  “Do you want some ice for that?” he asked. Then he looked down at my robe. “What are you doing? We’re not working tonight. I want you to take a break. It’s—”

  “I want to, Dare.” I owed him so much—everything. Not only had he helped me today, but he was the reason I wasn’t reaching for my pills right now. Most importantly, he had been the inspiration for my break for freedom from my family. I never would have followed the art if I hadn’t met him. He’d saved my life in more ways than one.

  I wanted to do better, be better, because of him.

  So, yeah. I wanted to be here.

  “Go get set up,” I said as I walked over to the futon to take off my robe. Dare stayed glued to the floor, looking unconvinced. “Dare,” I said. “There is no other place I’d be rather be right now. Please.”

  He hesitated a moment more, then walked back over to his easel as I got settled on the futon. I lay on my back again and watched him, wondering how I could ever repay all that he’d given me. This—being here for him to paint—was the least I could do. And I hadn’t been kidding when I’d said this was where I wanted to be.

  I only wanted to be here.

  With Dare.

  The wine cellar. Complete darkness. I’m shivering from the cold. So, so dark. Why does it have to be so dark in here? Why did he turn off the lights when he came in?

  He whispers and I jump. I can’t see him. But I feel him.

  Hands. There are hands everywhere. I can’t stop them from touching me, from ripping at me and tearing me apart.

  I try to scream, but there’s a heavy weight on my chest.

  No. No, no, no…

  Please no!

  Can’t breathe, can’t yell for help. Can’t—

  I woke with a jolt, sat up gulping in air like I’d been holding my breath. Shit. Was he still here? I couldn’t feel his hands anymore, but that didn’t mean he was gone.

  Someone stirred next to me and I scrambled out of bed, falling to the floor with a thud.

  Dare sat straight up, looked down at me and jumped out of bed.

  Dare?

  Oh, god. I thought—it had seemed like—damn it, I was all mixed up. It had been a dream. Just a fucking dream. Thank god for that.

  The room was dark, curtains drawn, but I could see light filtering in around them from the streetlamps.

  Where was I?

  Wait, if Dare was here then…I was in Dare’s bed.

  Holy fucking shit. How did I end up in Dare’s bed?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he knelt down beside me. “Nightmare?”

  I looked at him, the remains of the dream fading away. “What am I doing here?”

  “You fell asleep while we were working,” he said. “It was really late, so I carried you in here.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think you wanted to be alone.”

  “I don’t.” I slowly got to my feet and he stood with me. My throat felt thick with emotion. “Thank you. Again.”

  We stood there staring at each other, the intensity reaching an all-time high. I felt this incredible pull toward him—a kind of magnetic attraction. And it seemed as if he did, too.

  But I could still feel his hesitation, and I didn’t know what to do about it. In all honesty, I was exhausted from trying to figure it out.

  “It’s—” He looked like he was searching for the right words but wasn’t sure what they were. “It was the right thing to do.” Then he smiled. “I know how you are about that.”

  Oh, my god. Was he actually teasing me?

  “Yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes, feeling the warmth of his grin seep through my body right down to my bones. “All I did was lend you my freaking car. You needed it, Dare. Admit it. I can’t believe you’re still going on about that three years later.”

  His eyes widened as he let out a small laugh, suddenly looking a lot more like the Dare I knew so well. It felt so good to joke with him. Everything that had happened today disappeared from my mind. There was only Dare.

  “It was a cherry red Mercedes SLS AMG,” he said. “A three-hundred-thousand-dollar car. There weren’t any of those in my neighborhood.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and pointed to my chest. “Well, this court saw fit to award it to you in rightful exchange while your car was being fixed, thanks to the fucked up driving of the defendant.”

  Dare laughed. “I still object on the grounds that the gesture was way too extravagant.”

  “Overruled. The grace period for filing complaints has passed.” I banged an invisible gavel in the air. “You’re just going to have to let it go.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Jesus. You sure you’re not going to law school?”

  I nodded. “More sure than ever. You’ve just forgotten how good I am at arguing.”

  “Your stubbornness is impossible to forget, Ree.” He smiled at me then, the warm, wonderful smile of three years ago when everything was good.

  I held my breath, waiting for his face to close again, for him to shut down on me, to remember why he didn’t want to be with me anymore. He didn’t. Instead, he just climbed back into bed, held the covers up for me as an invitation, and waited.

  The scariest thing I’d ever done was walk back over and slip in beside him, not knowing whether it would be this old, warm Dare or the new, closed-off Dare I’d wake up to in the morning. But something felt different, things had changed between us, so I took a chance.

  He pulled me tight against him, his hands staying still, showing no intent to take things further that night. I relaxed into his embrace, and fell asleep again, listening to the rhythm of his breaths, relishing the feel of his warmth around me.

  Existing in this moment with Dare was like coming home after a long journey, like being lost and suddenly found again.

  fifteen

  The next afternoon the butterflies were back in my stomach as I was getting ready to go over to Dare’s. Things felt so different. GOOD different. We’d woken up late, and I’d had to rush to get to the gallery, but he’d still looked at me like he wanted me there. Like he was sorry to see me go.

  The new Dare was gone. The old one was back, mostly, and I couldn’t wait to spend the evening with him. My body was humming, already tingling in all the right places as I envisioned all the things I wanted to do to him—and have him do to me—after he was done painting.

  Things just felt right, like tonight would lead us forward. Together. And I couldn’t wait to get started on that journey.

  As my hand reached for the doorknob, there was a knock on my door. Excitement flooded me as I grinned. Dare couldn’t wait either. Maybe we wouldn’t make it to the painting at all tonight. Maybe we’d spend the entire afternoon doing all the naughty things I’d—

  “Reagan! Open up, baby girl! I’ve come to rescue you.”

  My jaw dropped and my mouth literally hung agape as I opened the door to Archer.

  “What are you—”

  “Get dressed, babe. I’m taking you out.” He breezed past me to stand in the middle of my living room. As always, every minute detail about him—from his expensive clothes to his precisely arranged blonde waves—was executed to perfection. He was like a living, breathing magazine shot. Even his wrinkled up nose as he evaluated my apartment was somehow attractive. “I’ve flown all the way to Paris just for this.”

  I stood frozen in the open doorway. “How the hell did you—”

  “Know where you
were? I’m a resourceful guy.” He looked past me as I heard Dare’s door open. “This place is a dump. Why don’t you come stay with me at the George V? I’ve got a huge suite and I’m willing to share my bed.” His lascivious grin was aimed over my shoulder.

  I turned to see Dare standing in his doorway, his face stony, his eyes full of betrayal. I opened my mouth to explain that this obviously wasn’t what it looked like, but his gaze turned cold, and he just shook his head like he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it again.

  “Dare,” I said, taking a step toward him, “wait…it’s not—”

  “It’s not what, Reagan? Jesus Christ, what do you take me for?”

  I rushed across the hallway to his door, and spoke in a low voice. “It’s not what you think. He just showed up. He’s my fr—”

  “I know who he is. I remember him very clearly.”

  OH, SHIT. The last time Dare had seen Archer had been at the hospital after my overdose. When Archer had claimed me as “his girl.” Which meant Dare probably thought we’d been together this whole time. And that I was still with him since he was practically marking my apartment as his territory. It REALLY didn’t help that Dare had caught the tail end of our conversation and heard Archer’s flippant proposition.

  Things hadn’t even gotten started for real with Dare and life was already screwing with me. Fucking hell.

  “I didn’t know he was coming to Paris, Dare. And I definitely didn’t know he’d just show up at my apartment unannounced.” I glanced back at Archer and he winked.

  Fuck. Me.

  “Jacques just called,” Dare said, ignoring my explanation. “I have to head over to the gallery for a couple of hours. I won’t need to you model right now, so you and Pretty Boy can do whatever the hell you want.”

  I sighed. “Do you still want to work on the paintings later tonight? I’ll just grab a quick dinner with Archer and meet you when you get back.”

  Dare’s eyes bore into mine. “Do what you want.” He stepped past me to close and lock his door. Then he stuffed his apartment keys in the pocket of his jeans and stalked away, disappearing down the stairwell.