One Night Only

  But that didn't stop me from hoping that he might want something more from me. Like maybe another couple hours of insanely hot fucking.

  I considered myself a confident woman, but I hadn't been arrogant enough to think that one night with me had inspired an artist like Jace. Until I saw what he'd been sculpting.

  Me.

  Or, more specifically, what he would have seen of me while I was bent over the bed as he spanked the hell out of me.

  My hips, back, and ass. I hadn't exactly spent much time looking at myself from that angle, but there was only so much I could credit to coincidence.

  Now I needed to figure out what I was going to do about it. He didn't know my face, and I didn't have any identifying tattoos, so he could include that sculpture in his show and no one would be the wiser. But could I consider myself an unbiased critic if I'd slept with the artist? If he used me as a model, however unknowingly?

  And what did it mean that he sculpted me.

  "Chestnut Praline Latte," Jace said as he set my order down in front of me. "And a turkey on rye."

  I lifted the cup to my nose and inhaled. "Thanks."

  He waited until we'd both taken the edge off our hunger to start talking. "When I was six, my mom and I didn't have any money for Christmas presents, so we went to this mission. Someone – I never could find out who – had donated this amazing art kit, and I started experimenting with everything in it. Paints. Charcoals. All kinds of things. It became how I expressed myself, how I dealt with the world around me."

  There wasn't much out there about Jace's life before he came to live with his father at the age of ten. Enough had gotten out about his mother that it was generally assumed that she'd been a stripper, possibly even a prostitute, but Benjamin Gooding had been well-liked and well-connected, so most people didn't bother trying to dig too deep. Now, I wondered if Jace's father had worked to keep things quiet for his son's sake.

  He shifted in his seat, some of the ease leaving him. "The thing I loved the most was this little container of sculpting clay. I made all sorts of little things for my mom, for our apartment. One day, I made a special one for her birthday, and when I surprised her with it, the guy she was seeing got upset and smashed it. Every single thing I made was destroyed and thrown away."

  My gut told me there was more to the story than he was telling, and the shadow in his eyes said it wasn't good. My heart ached for the little boy he'd been, and I knew I couldn't ask him for any more than that. Not without hurting him more, and I wouldn't have done it even before we slept together.

  "That's awful." I reached across the table and put my hand over his. To my surprise, he didn't pull away.

  "Thanks." The smile he gave me held a little less darkness in its depths.

  The moment gave me the courage I needed to ask one of the questions bouncing around in my head. "Can I ask who the model is?"

  His eyebrows shot up. "The model?"

  "For the sculpture." I pulled my hand back and tried to pass it off as me wanting a drink. I could feel the flush creeping up my cheeks as I tried to sound nonchalant. "None of your other work had people in it, so I was wondering who not only got you to break away from your usual subject, but brought you back to your favorite medium."

  He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, then up over his head, making a mess of his hair. To my surprise, his ears were turning red. "I met someone who...inspired me."

  I tried not to let the hope flickering inside me grow. I didn't want to read too much into his statement. Inspiration didn't mean that he wanted another night with me, especially if he found out my identity.

  But it didn't mean I'd be able to just let it go either.

  Dammit. I needed to talk to someone about this, which meant I was going to have to confess to someone about everything.

  Dammit.

  Everett was never going to let me live it down.

  When I was a student at NYU, I hadn't spent much time in the physics department unless I was looking for Everett, so nothing much had changed except for the fact that instead of coming from the Art and English departments, I came from home or work.

  Everett had classes today and wasn't working tonight, so I went to the building that held his last class of the day and waited in the hallway. As I leaned against the wall, I tried to run through the outline I held in my head for my article, but every time I came to some conclusion, something else about Jace would draw my attention. I'd either find myself thinking about the heat I'd seen in his eyes at the club, or the way it had felt to dance with him, or how easy it was to talk to him.

  "You're late," I snapped as Everett came out of the classroom. "Everyone else left five minutes ago."

  Everett raised an eyebrow. "Damn. Someone either needs to get laid or deal with whatever PMS issues you have going on right now."

  I sighed. "Shit. I'm sorry." I pushed my hair back from my face. "How about I buy dinner and tell you what's got me biting your head off?"

  He scrubbed his palms together. "I get to choose the place."

  I glared at him. "Seriously? You're going to negotiate an apologetic gesture?"

  He gave me that easy grin that I loved. "Of course."

  I rolled my eyes and let myself fall into the ease of being with my best friend. I could have called Lei or Lorde and talked to them, but even as much as I loved them, Everett was the only one I could completely confide in about this. I didn't blurt it out while we were walking though. No, this called for dinner...and alcohol.

  Lots of alcohol.

  By the time we were both buzzed enough to have the conversation, the diner Everett had chosen was full and noisy, which was good because that meant the chances of anyone overhearing what I was about to say were slim.

  "Remember me telling you that I was going to see Jace Randall on Monday?"

  "Yes," he said, leaning forward. He knew we were about to get to the good stuff. "I also remember you promising to call me and dish on all the dirty details, but that hadn't happened."

  "You're really enjoying guilt tripping me here, aren't you?" I threw a french fry at him.

  "I am." He popped the fry into his mouth.

  "Well, I've got some great dirty details for you," I said wryly. "You just have to promise that this stays between us because it's a bit...well, you'll understand when I tell you."

  "Now I'm intrigued." He leaned toward me ever farther. "My lips are sealed. Spill."

  So, spill I did.

  I told him about meeting Jace for the first time, and that I'd been attracted but had tried to stay professional. Then I told him about going to the club and watched his eyes grow wider until he finally let out a low whistle.

  "So, you're torn between the artist who made you love art, and a mystery man who rocked your world?"

  I'd paused to drain the last of my beer, and now I shook my head. "I'm in trouble because my mystery man is the artist."

  "No fucking way." Everett's voice was low, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "I thought you said you didn't exchange names and you didn't see his face."

  "I didn't." I rubbed my temples as my head throbbed. "But I did see the tattoos on his chest and upper arms. Then today, when I went to see Jace to talk about the article, he had his shirt off, and–"

  "And you saw the tattoos." Everett whistled again. "Does he know? That you and he–"

  "No." I shook my head. "And that's not all. He was making a sculpture when I got there, and it was...me."

  "Shit." Everett stared at me. "You really stepped in it, Sav. What are you going to do?"

  "I don't know," I admitted. "Why the hell do you think I'm talking to you about it?"

  Thirteen

  Savannah

  Why had I listened to Everett?

  I asked myself the same question for the tenth time since I got home last night. It sounded like a great idea when we were at the diner talking about it, but when I was alone, I started questioning the wisdom of it, and I'd just gotten more uncertain throughout t
he day today.

  But I was still walking toward the front door of the club, the mask I'd forgotten to return clutched in my hand. Part of me was hoping I'd run into Jace before I had the chance to put the mask on, and I wouldn't have to make any decisions about what to do when I saw him.

  Because that was the one thing that neither Everett nor I had been able to agree on, partially because I couldn't decide if I wanted to come clean or not. I could leave things as they were between Jace and myself, keep our one night together as a special memory, and continue with my piece on Jace as if nothing had happened. That would be the smartest thing to do, both professionally and personally.

  And yet here I was, wearing a sexy red dress that I found buried at the back of my closet, ready to put myself out there on the off chance that this thing I'd felt between us hadn't been a fluke.

  I smoothed my hands over my dress, but it didn't really need it considering it fit like it'd been painted on. It had been an impulsive purchase during a shopping spree with Lei and Lorde during our last spring break, and I'd only worn it once. I was confident in my sexuality, but this was the sort of thing designed to attract attention, and I'd never really wanted that before tonight.

  I was a bit worried that the man at the door would confiscate the mask, and maybe even kick me out since I'd accidentally absconded with it, but he didn't do anything other than nod at me as I walked past. As soon as I was inside, I saw that the masquerade night must have been for the whole week because everyone else was still wearing masks. I quickly put mine on and moved off to the side to watch and wait.

  I'd been there only a few minutes when I sensed someone come up beside me. Before I could turn and look, I caught the unmistakable scent of spice and clay and man. Jace.

  "I hoped I'd see you here tonight."

  "Likewise." My voice was surprisingly steady despite my nerves.

  "Come with me."

  He took my hand, his grip on my fingers loose enough that I could pull free if I wanted to. Instead of doing that, I let him pull me after him. As we made our way toward the back of the club, I tried to think of what I'd say to him when we were alone, but even as he closed the door behind us a few moments later, my mind was blank.

  "You look incredibly beautiful," he said as he slid his hands up my arms.

  Now that I knew who he was, I could tell he was using his hands to learn my body, just like he had before.

  "Thank you," I said. "You do too."

  He wore a fitted charcoal gray short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that hugged his firm thighs and ass. He had on the same mask as the other night, but even though his outfit was more casual, he managed to pull off this one as well as the other.

  "So..." I took a deep breath to gather my courage. "I was wondering if, this time, we could take off the masks. See each other."

  He went so still that I wondered for a moment if I'd said the wrong thing. Then he offered me a smile that seemed a bit tight. "How about this? We leave them on while we see if we really do have chemistry together, and if we still want to reveal our identities after, we can do it then."

  I wanted to get this out of the way, to know for certain that Jace wanted me and not just masked mystery me. But I wanted to be with him one more time even more. Especially since I didn't know if I'd get the chance once he learned who I was.

  I nodded. "All right. We'll do this your way."

  His smile widened into the wicked sort of grin that tied my stomach in knots. "I thought we agreed last time that when we're in here, everything is my way."

  Fuck.

  All I could do was stand there as he lowered his head. His eyes blazed as his mouth came down on mine. The edge of my mask pressed into my face, but I didn't mind. If this was going to be the last time he kissed me, the last time I would know what it was like to be claimed by him, then I almost wished for something that would leave a lasting impression.

  His tongue plundered my mouth, and his hands dug into my hips, pulling me so tightly against him that I could feel the ridge of his cock pressing against my stomach through his zipper. I pushed up on my toes, desperate to feel that pressure and friction against the place I needed it the most. He groaned as I nipped his bottom lip, then soothed the sting with my tongue.

  "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he confessed as he broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against mine, his grip tightening as if he was afraid I'd walk away.

  Not that there was a chance in hell of that happening. I was in too fucking deep.

  "What were you thinking?" I whispered the question because I didn't trust my voice not to shake. Knowing that he'd been thinking about me, maybe even when he'd been opening up to me about his past, gave me hope, however tenuous, that he might not be disappointed when he saw who I was.

  His fingers flexed, as if he wasn't quite as tightly contained as he seemed. "So many things."

  I shivered at the dark promise in those words. I might have been a bit nervous at all the possibilities, but fear was definitely not one of the emotions I was feeling at the moment. Knowing that he was Jace made me trust him more, not less.

  "Tell me." I supposed it could have seemed like a demand – which even I knew was a no-no for someone in a submissive position – but it sounded more like a plea. Which, I guessed, in a way it was. If this was going to be our final time together, I wanted to know as much about him as possible.

  "You're new to this," he said, "I don't want to frighten you."

  I closed my eyes as another shiver went through me, this one of anticipation. "I want to know. Please." His name was on the tip of my tongue and it took everything I had not to call him by it. "What have you been thinking about me?"

  "How much I want to push you," he finally confessed. "How I want to learn your limits, and then take you places that you've never thought possible. I want to test your pain threshold by showing you just how good it can be to hurt, how pain can make pleasure so much more exquisite, more intense."

  I silently swore. I told myself that I would be okay if this was it, if we ended here, but listening to him talk, my nipples were already hard, my pussy throbbing and wet. How could I give this up? How could I walk away and never feel this way again?

  Still, I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like if we went past tonight. How could a person survive something like what he described? Survive that kind of intensity? I'd burst into flames if I was subjected to this daily.

  But what a way to go.

  "I thought about all the ways I could make you scream again," he continued, his voice rough. "How beautiful your skin would look with red stripes from a flogger. The sounds you would make when I put clamps on your nipples. And then the even hotter ones when I removed them. The way you would curse and writhe, tugging on restraints while I took you to the edge over and over again, but never quite let you get there."

  I'd spent too much time trying to argue with myself about the things I secretly wanted for years. I wasn't a virgin, and I wasn't a prude, but I'd always kept this part of myself under tight wraps. Now, he set it out there in a way I knew was meant to run me off. Instead, it drew me to him, knowing that the things he wanted to do to me fit with what I wanted done. Unlike previous lovers, he wouldn't balk at the experiences I wanted to try. If anything, he would want more.

  If he decided he was willing to try for more than just tonight.

  "Choose," I said quietly. "Choose what you want for tonight."

  He stiffened, then pulled back enough so that his eyes could meet mine. For one heart-stopping second, I thought he recognized me, then he spoke, and I knew my identity was still a secret.

  "I'll only ask this once, and after that, you'll have to use the safe words to stop me." His thumbs made circles on my hips, as if he was already imagining his answer to my quasi-demand. "Are you sure you want this?"

  I didn't even hesitate. "Yes." Then, unable to stop with a simple one-word answer, I added, "How do you want me?"

  Fourteen

 
Jace

  How in the hell was I supposed to answer that question?

  A stranger shouldn't be able to get under my skin like this. Then again, I wasn't supposed to want a novice this badly. I shouldn't have spent so many hours thinking of all the things I wanted to introduce her to...or thinking of how I wanted to dismember any other man who would dare to take my place when I stepped aside. Because I had no doubt there would be many of them lining up to train her to be their perfect sub.

  Just like I had no doubt that I was rapidly becoming addicted to this woman and that was a dangerous thing.

  But it wasn't enough to stop me from lowering my head to kiss her again, to taste her.

  I began to strip away her clothes as my tongue slid across hers. I needed to have my hands on her impossibly soft skin, feel her shudder under my touch. And I wanted to see all of her, savor every moment.

  I still didn't know what I was going to do afterwards, if I would remove my mask and reveal my identity, but I knew I wanted tonight to leave an impression that made all past and future lovers insignificant. That would make it so that she would never, could never, forget me.

  She moaned as I lowered her to the bed, my thigh pressing against the wet silk between her legs. Damn. I'd known women who'd gotten turned on easily, but nothing like this.

  "I'm going to tie you up," I informed her as I reluctantly straightened. Part of me wanted nothing more than to bury myself inside her right now, but I knew waiting would make it all the sweeter. "And then, I'm going to see how many times I can get you close to the edge before you beg me to let you come."

  Her breathing hitched, her small, perfect breasts straining against the sheer, pale lace of her bra. I could see the dusky peach color of her nipples and my mouth watered. I would wait though, to find out what it was like to taste her. I'd taken her too fast before, hadn't taken the time to savor her.

  I intended to remedy that mistake.