“Yes.” In a way.
Fury replaced his confusion. “Did you think of him while we kissed? Did you wish he was the one touching you?”
“So what if I did?” she said, eyeing him with bravado.
“As your instructor, I forbid you to think about Puny Peter.”
“You are not the master of my thoughts.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his tone dripping with a calm as false as her bravery.
“Yeah.” At her full five-foot-three-inch height, she could only glare up at him. “That’s so.”
“Then let’s find out whether or not I can direct your thoughts.” He prowled a step closer. “I liked the way your nipples hardened against my palms. The way you pressed your body deeper into mine. I liked when you wrapped your legs around me, placing your clitoris firmly against my cock. I liked those things, Julia. Not Peter.”
Tremors rocked her on her feet. And yes. Yes, his words had directed her thoughts like a puppeteer wielding a string. “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 why did you run from me?”
“I just—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 my first appearance.” He jerked her into the hard circle of his arms. “Just as you crave me.”
“No, no. Not anymore.” Deny him. If she didn’t, she would end up giving herself to him completely. He desired her, but she wasn’t sure it was enough. How long would his desire last? How long until she found a way to set him free?
Forever? You won’t find what you never search for.
Could she let herself forget her own dreams and neglect Peter for a temporary relationship? “No,” she repeated, more for her benefit than his.
“Peter is not here,” Tristan growled. “He is not the one who can satisfy you. I am.”
He wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t necessarily right, either. Or was he? Oh, she just didn’t know anymore! She only knew she wanted this man, bad. Why deny the inevitable?
No, no. She had to deny it for the sake of her future. And she needed to get away while she could. “Why don’t you believe in love, Tristan?” she found herself asking instead of fleeing.
If he fell in love with her, she wouldn’t have to worry about losing him.
Tristan, a pleasure slave who’d probably been with the most beautiful women in the world, fall for a tongue-tied virgin who could be classified as cute on her best days?
Girls like us don’t win the fairy-tale prince, honey. We’ve got to settle for his servant.
He blinked and stumbled back, as if pushed, releasing her. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I am not an unbeliever, not any longer, but the emotion isn’t one I can allow myself to experience.”
Silence permeated the room, their gazes locked. The air seemed to thicken, both of them breathing a lot harder. Awareness crackled in her every cell. Why did he have to exude such potent sexuality?
Finally she could take it no longer and glanced away. Debating the finer points of anything, especially love, would be the equivalent of a political debate on Facebook. No one would walk away a winner.
“I’ve got to balance my accounts,” she said, “so I’ll be in my office. I don’t know what time I’ll finish.” She forced herself to walk away.
“What time you finish doesn’t matter,” he called, his tone steely. “I’ll put my anticipation to good use.”
A tingle of alarm raced through her and she froze, her back to him. “Nothing else is going to happen between us, Tristan.”
“That isn’t technically true. You agreed that I would be sleeping in your bed—with you, not alone, in case that wasn’t clear. Tonight, we’ll start your third lesson. Cuddling.”
Cuddling? Her knees almost buckled. How was she supposed to resist his allure when she lay in his arms?
Drawing on every ounce of strength she possessed, Julia whipped her head around to stare over her shoulder. “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 to slits but he nodded. “You have me there, sweet. Next time I’ll not leave any room for interpretation.”
* * *
AS TRISTAN TOSSED and turned on Julia’s bedchamber floor, he stared up at the ceiling. He hated that their kiss had ended so abruptly. And as much as he hated not being in the bed with her, cuddling, he loved how easily she’d outwitted him. Wily female.
Perhaps this was all for the best. Earlier, he’d almost lost control. He’d touched her, tasted her, and had wanted to give her everything. Julia was quickly destroying the defenses he’d build over the seasons.
Defenses he needed if he were going to survive his fate.
A cold sweat broke out all over his body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
You Must Thank Your Mistress Immediately
And Frequently For Any Boon Or Punishment
THE NEXT MORNING, JULIA’S resolve to keep Tristan away from Julia’s Treasures crumbled.
She didn’t want to send him back inside his box. Too cruel. But she didn’t want to leave him at home alone, either. He would have vehemently protested such an occurrence, anyway. Being the hopelessly infatuated, desperately aroused woman that she was—still!—she wanted to make him happy. Besides, she probably owed him. She’d had a comfortable bed, and he’d had the hard floor. All night she’d had to listen to his breathing, enveloped by his arousing scent.
So, of
