"There is so much more I can teach you," he uttered, now softening his tone, using each sexy timbre to the fullest.
"I'm not interested."
"That is an untruth, Julia. You are interested."
"You're wrong." She tried to stifle the hurt burning in her eyes. She wasn't angry with Tristan. No, she couldn't be angry with him. He'd only been doing what she'd asked him to do: teach her to seduce a man. Yet she'd let herself forget that fact, and she hated herself for her stupidity, hated the ache in her chest. "Very wrong."
"You are the one who is wrong, Julia," he said through clenched teeth. He propped his elbows on the armrests and folded his hands together. "You lie to yourself, and I would know why."
"I've merely had enough pleasure for one day, that's all."
He made a tsking sound with his tongue. "Never has a woman needed more, sweet. Twice now you have come apart because of a kiss. And never once did my fingers or my shaft enter your body. You want the pleasure I can give you. Admit it."
Julia whirled, fleeing as fast as her feet could carry her. Where she headed, she didn't know. She only knew that if she didn't leave now, she might cave completely, give Tristan everything he wanted and forget everything she needed. How could he be so passionate one moment, and so frosty the next, as if he were two separate people?
"Julia," he called, racing after her. When he reached her, he gripped her shoulders and spun her to face him. His expression darkened with remorse, and he was once again the tender, fervent warrior she'd kissed. "I did not mean to hurt you."
Forcing a half smile, she looked past him, past the living-room window. "I'm fine. Really."
His strong, callused hands cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "Every warrior knows the words 'I'm fine' from his woman are a death sentence. Tell me what I did wrong, and I will apologize."
"You did nothing wrong." Not purposefully, at least.
He was sorry he had hurt her, but he truly had no idea that he'd just ruined the best experience of her life. "Just tell me when you begin a lesson next time," she said softly. "I thought you really" Her mouth closed with a snap. She absolutely did not want him to know she'd thought he had kissed her because he wanted to, because he found her attractive.
His brows knit together and his confusion intensified. "What does knowing about a lesson beforehand matter?"
"I have a right to know, that's all."
The fingers on her shoulders tensed, and his gaze slitted dangerously. "This is not about the lessons, is it? This is about Puny Peter. Did you think of him while I kissed you? Did you wish it was Peter touching you? Did you picture him in your mind, and when his image faded, you pulled away from me?"
"So what if I did?" she said, eyeing him with false bravado.
"As your instructor, I forbid you to think about Puny Peter."
"You are not the master of my thoughts. I govern who and what I think about."
"Is that so?" he asked, his tone dripping with deceptive calm.
"Yeah." Standing to her full five-foot-three height, she glared up at him. "That's so."
"Then what think you of this? I liked the way your nipples hardened against my palms. I liked the way you pressed your body deeper into mine. I liked the way you wrapped your legs around me, placing yourself firmly against my cock. I liked those things, Julia. I. Not Peter."
"I liked them, too," she admitted before she could halt the words. "I liked that you were the one doing them to me."
Everything about him softened. "Then tell me why you ran from the pleasure I gave you."
"I thought you really wanted me, okay?" she whispered. "I thought the lessons had nothing to do with our kiss." Staring down at her fingers, she gave a humorless laugh. "I guess it was stupid of me to hope you could give of yourself and not cater to the whims of a master, huh?"
"What is this?" The words exploded from his mouth. "You think I see your body as an obligation? Curse you, woman. Thoughts of you have fueled my dreams and kept me hard all night long. I crave you, and have not stopped craving you since I first appeared." He jerked her into the hard circle of his arms. "Just as you crave me."
"No, no. Not anymore." Deny him, whispered through her mind. If she didn't, she would once again give herself to him completely. He desired her, she conceded that much now. But was that really enough? She would forget her own dreams and neglect Peter. Already her resistance was waning. "No," she said again, more for her benefit than his.
"Peter is not here," Tristan growled. "He is not the one who can give you fulfillment. I am. Your body knows this and will always betray you."
The truth of those words danced through her, and for a moment, only a moment, she thought, why deny the inevitable? But self-preservation won. Get away while you still can. "Why don't you believe in love, Tristan?" she found herself asking instead.
He blinked. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his hands withdrew from her. "The emotion is simply not one I can allow myself to experience." Silence permeated the room. Their gazes remained locked. Finally she sighed and glanced away. Staying here with him and debating the finer points of love would not change his mind. He appeared too distant right now, too disgusted. "I've got to balance my accounts," she said, "so I'll be in my office. I don't know what time I'm going to bed, but you can stay up as late as you want." She forced herself to slip from his touch and walk away.
"When you go to your bedchamber," he called, his tone steely, "keep your door unlocked."
A tingle of alarm raced through her and she froze, her back to him.
"Why?"
"You agreed that I will sleep with you." Drawing on every ounce of inner strength she possessed, Julia whipped around and pinned him with her stare.
"The operative word here is sleep. And for your information, I didn't say exactly where you are to sleep, just that it's in my room. I'll make you a pallet on the floor."
His eyes narrowed. "You have me there, sweet. Next time I'll not leave any room for interpretation."
As Tristan lay on Julia's bedchamber floor, he stared up at the ceiling. He hated that their kiss had ended so abruptly. Yet mayhap that was for the best, he now realized. He'd almost lost control. He'd touched her, tasted her, and had wanted to give her everything he had to give. Julia was quickly destroying that innermost part of him, the part he kept buried.
The part of him that kept him sane.
A cold sweat broke out all over his body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
You Must Thank Your Master Immediately And Frequently For Any Boon Or Punishment
Her resolve to keep Tristan away from Julia's Treasures crumbled.
She didn't want to send him back inside his box, didn't want to leave him at home alone. He would have vehemently protested such an occurrence, anyway, and being the hopelessly infatuated, desperately aroused woman that she wasshe'd had to listen to his breathing all night as the raw maleness of his scent wrapped around hershe wanted to make him happy.
So the very next day Julia dragged him to work with her.
How did he thank her? By ignoring her all morning and hacking up another phone.
"Why in the world did you destroy yet another phone?" she demanded the moment her last customer departed.
From his stool behind the cash register, Tristan regarded her with a why-aren't-you-on-your-knees-thanking-me glance. "I would rather walk across a stream of jagged talons than listen to that shrill, bansheelike screech again."
Her nose wrinkled in vexation. "You destroyed my telephone because it rang?"
Unfazed, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
"That's the second one you've murdered."
"You are welcome."
"I most definitely am not thanking you." Frowning, she began tidying a shelf of colorful glass vases. "This is a business. Now my customers have no way to contact me."
"A cause for celebration, surely."
"Phones aren't cheap, you know," she grumbled. Okay, so they weren't that expensive. "I'm taking this out of your salary."
"Since I refuse to take your money," he said, his tone as sour as her mood, "the situation works to my advantage. And while I am now in the mood to talk, explain to me why you are wearing drocs instead of a new gown."
"These pants are new."
"I did not choose them."
"Sexy clothing is not appropriate in the workplace."
The bell above the door chimed, preventing him from commenting. Tristan and his murderous scowl were forgotten as Julia focused her attention on Mrs. Danberry and the little dark-headed child she held.
"Do you need protecting?" Tristan asked. Julia leveled him a glance over her shoulder.
"No. For God's sake, stay where you are." Forcing her expression to relax, she returned her attention to her customer. "May I help you?"
With Julia distracted, Tristan swept the hacked-up phone into the trash, then settled back on his stool, hands locked behind his head. What was he going to do with this woman? He still did not know. This dawning, she had bounced out of bed after a peaceful, undisturbed rest. He knew exactly how well she'd slept because he had lain awake on the floor, listening to her breathy sounds of slumber. Several times, while they readied themselves for another day at this shop, she had tried to draw him into conversation about the weather, then about his home, yet he had not responded. Uncertainty still ate at him.
He felt as if he were standing on a precipice, one moment ready to forget his control and discipline and simply enjoy her, the next wanting to prove he was impenetrable to softer emotions. The two needs warred within him, slashing against the other. Whichever direction he jumped, he suspected he would wish he'd taken the other.
How Zirra would rejoice if she knew the extent of his frustration. He had never been so torn, and a woman had never resisted him quite so determinedly. Where were his legendary skills of seduction that no woman could resist? He had once thought he understood women, and himself, yet he found himself thinking again that he was unprepared to deal with Julia and her hope to win Puny Peter.
A tide of possessiveness crashed through him, whipping with the force of a mighty wave. I want to enjoy her, he finally admitted, fists clenched so tightly his bones almost snapped, discipline be cursed. The answer was as clear as if he'd known all along, accepted even, that this was the way it would be.
He wanted this woman, wanted to embrace her every nuance, and hold nothing of himself back. Instead of the horror he'd envisioned with such an admission, he felt oddly at peace. He would be the man who unleashed Julia's full passion, who showed her just how delightful all pleasures of the flesh could be. He would be the one to savor her reactions.
Not Puny Peter.
That idiot was not good enough for her. Tristan knew it. Soon, too, would Julia.
Just how was he to win this stubborn and completely illogical woman?
Mayhap all she needed was more convincing, a gentle hand to guide her, he thought, relaxing into the hardwood seat. A smile curved his lips, and he closed his eyes. He'd learned through experience that Julia responded more favorably to demonstrative measures. Mmm how would he demonstrate sensual indulgence?
Anticipation made his fingers itch and a thousand possibilities raced through his mind. By Elliea, he would try them all.
Julia tried to concentrate on her customer. She really did. But her attention continually strayed toward Tristan, all sleek muscle and masculine strength. With his features relaxed and his mouth curved in a half smile, he looked so serene, almost boyish, beguilingly innocent. Not the sensual master she knew him to be.
A woman could become addicted to the fire and delight found in his arms. He knew just where to kiss, suck and lick; knew just where to touch, both lightly and more forcefully, to bring optimum pleasure. She tried to hide her now-pebbled nipples behind a shelf of Oriental figurines. Resisting him was proving more and more difficult. But resist his allure she must.
Peter was her first priority. This wanton side to her she was only now discovering, a side that demanded release more and more frequently, demanded she give in just once and experience the passion Tristan stirred inside her, must be ignored. What could she have with him besides momentary passion? A lifetime of insecurity, that's what.
"Oh, that is marvelous," a female voice said, breaking into her thoughts. Mrs. Danberry held the little girl with one hand, and the corncob pipe in the other.
"I'm glad you like it," Julia said. "I thought of you the moment I saw it."
"Oh, no, dear. Not the pipe. The man." Mrs. Danberry motioned to Tristan with a tilt of her chin. "Marvelous specimen, really. He's grade-A sirloin. Not at all like my Weston. No, Weston is more like tofu. A cheap imitation. I like the corncob pipe, too, of course. It's lovely." The toddler tugged on her hand. "Stand by me, Shonna, and don't touch a single thing. Shonna's my granddaughter, you know," she told Julia. "The dear angel is the light of my life."
"I can see why," Julia replied. "She's beautiful."
"Thank you." Mrs. Danberry turned her attention to the pipe. "I must have it for my collection. But you knew that, didn't you?"
Julia smiled and gazed down at the little girl who looked so bashful as she stood quietly beside her grandmother. "May Shonna have a lollipop?"
"Oh, yes, of course," came the distracted reply.
Kneeling down, Julia said in her gentlest voice, "Hello, there. I love your dress. It's very pretty."
Shonna's big blue eyes widened, and she shifted from one flowery shoe to the other.
"Would you like a lollipop? I have chocolate and strawberry, cotton candy and tropical punch."
The little girl stuck two fingers in her mouth, glanced to her grandmother, who nodded encouragingly, then looked to Julia with a nod of her own.
"You can pick any flavor you want." Julia clasped her small, delicate hand and led her to the register where she kept a glass canister full of sweets. Shonna scrutinized every piece, and soon strands of midnight hair fell across her cheeks.
With her coloring, she could've easily passed for Tristan's child.