“We will do a soft launch and I’ll work on getting my name out there, and hopefully we will get some interest beyond some small boutiques.” He kissed her forehead.
“No. Not happening.” She turned and looked him right in the eyes. “We are showing this year with or without some fashion week.”
“We can do a show, but we are only going to get local people.” He pressed his palm to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I think I built this up too much. I couldn’t wait for you to walk the runway in front of those fashion people and show them what a true, gorgeous woman can look like in couture clothes.”
His statement only made her decision that much easier and her thoughts took off. “Your designs are so much better than the uncomfortable not wearable rags most designers put out.” She put her hands on her hips. “We are showing during LA Fashion week. The fashion world needs you.”
“I need you.” Before she had the chance to utter another word, he kissed her.
Though he instantly opened his mouth, this kiss didn’t have the harsh need most of their kisses possessed. Rather, she would call it a slow burn. For the first time since they got together, they simply kissed.
She closed her eyes and focused on her other senses. Again, the spicy fresh scent of his cologne tickled her nose, his indefinable sweet taste took over her mouth, his touch served not only to calm her from all the emotion since he didn’t show up for their date, but also scintillated her nerve endings.
As always, she wanted him.
“I need you constantly.” He moaned, ran his hands through her hair and then skimmed his fingertips down to her waist, pulling her in and pressing their bodies together.
“I’m right here.” In need of more, she slipped her hands under his shirt where his smooth skin met her hands as she explored every contour she knew so well.
“I always think you’re going to disappear.” He cupped her bottom, lifted her and stepped over to the middle of the room where he carefully laid them both down among the few unfurled bolts of fabric.
If she told the truth to herself and to Blake, she would say she thought the same thing about him. Instead, she shook her head. “I told you I’m here.” They lay on their sides facing each other.
He grazed his lips over hers. “You’re a writer, but those aren’t the right words.”
“What are they then?” She glanced down and watched as he used one finger to trace the deep neckline of her dress.
“Say you’re mine.” With the expertise only the designer himself could have, he unfastened the buckles and lacing that held her garment in place. “Say you’re mine then I know you won’t vanish.”
If she wasn’t disappearing, he wouldn’t be either. “I’m yours.”
“Exactly.” He snuck his hands underneath her outfit, smiled and treated her to another kiss.
There in his studio in the evening, they rolled among the silk and the velvet simply exploring one another, for the first time not rushing for sex. Their touches barely delved beneath their respective waistlines. The only items to disappear were their clothes. Almost magically their naked bodies were tangled among a bolt of deep green satin.
“This color is perfect for you.” Using the fabric he pulled her closer and turned to his back, taking her with him. He pulled up his knees and encompassed her in his arms.
Surrounded by Blake, she smiled. The strangest feeling of serenity took over her. She never experienced anything like it.
“What is it?” His hand traveled down to her breast and he used his fingers to gently circle her nipple.
Shivers coursed through her. “I am yours.” She cared about him, wanted him to succeed, hated his hurting. There was no other way to classify it.
“Then show me.” His tone recaptured the strength it usually held.
Without question she knew what he wanted, what he needed and with only a little adjusting to their current position, she lowered herself down on him. By now she had lost count how many times they had sex, but yet every time her body took a moment to take him all in. She sucked in her breath. Only last week they got rid of the condom. Who was she kidding? They were committed.
"Stay still." He grabbed her hips and kept her in place. "I just want to feel you."
"Blake." The urge to move overwhelmed her but she tried to comply with his demands.
"I love how wet you are, how tight you are." He shut his eyes. "I love being inside you."
Her focus on pleasing him, she forced herself to remain still and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "Tell me what you want."
"Go slow, baby." At last he granted her the permission she sought.
She started by simply circling her hips.
"Like that." He directed her motions and made her growing arousal worse by adding some light, shallow strokes.
"How's that?" After kissing his neck, she nibbled and licked her way up to his mouth.
"So good." He spoke into her open mouth. "Now sit up, I want to see you."
Though not one to be shy, and even with all the times they'd been together, they never had sex in this position with lights flooding the room, her completely naked and a desk full of model pictures. Still, she obeyed by straddling his hips, but managed to catch the fabric and drape it across her.
"Lean back, baby."
She gave a haphazard attempt at leaning back, looking sexy and keeping hold of her shield.
"Get rid of this, I want to see you." He grabbed the fabric and yanked it away. His eyes seemed to absorb her. "You're more beautiful out of my clothes than in them."
Somehow she managed to swallow back her questions about models and comparisons. Confidence was always more sexy than doubts and giving Blake what he wanted frankly turned her on. Both her hands now free she arched her back, jutted her breasts out and braced herself on his knees.
"Oh yeah, that's it." A low chuckle left his throat.
At the way he gazed at her, her passion built once more and she slid up and down his length. "Faster, slower? What do you want Blake?"
"I want to see your breasts bouncing." His focus traveled between her face her breasts and where they were joined.
"Anything you say." Her slow glides turned into hard thrusts and with her own inner cravings taking over she slammed down upon him.
The only sound in the room overtaking the echo of their bodies crashing together was Blake's panting.
"I'm close." He gasped the words. "I'm there."
"Now what do you want?" Her tone teased him.
"Come, baby." Underneath her, he writhed and bucked his hips. "Come."
Watching him come undone prodded her closer. The beginnings of her climax fluttered deep within her, close yet not there. She brought her hand to her center.
"Yes, yes." Trembles consumed him, but he still managed to put his hand over hers giving her that last bit needed to take her over the edge.
"Blake!" The orgasm that seemed way off on the horizon suddenly crested. Her muscles tightened. For less than a second she teetered at the apex. The world stopped, focusing only on her and Blake's mutual pleasure and then she fell, her body wracked in those one of a kind contractions that propelled her into another universe.
"Damn!" He raised his hips and kept them in the air as his own end hit him. His orgasm throbbed through her, filling her with heat. "Ah!" Another wave hit him and he slammed his fist into the floor. "God!"
She collapsed down upon him and again found herself wrapped in his arms.
“Well, if nothing else, we certainly started our weekend off with a bang.” Blake’s chuckle vibrated through her. “Let’s keep the momentum, shall we?”
Though she hated to bring up the elephant or rejection in the room, she had no choice. “I think we need to brainstorm on how you’re going to show during LA Fashion Week.”
“Well, I know you’re a woman with exceptional taste, but I think the coordinators have spoken, though I have to say I adore your passion.” He turned them to their sides. “Let’s go back to my pl
ace and clean up. Then we will go celebrate our first month together, the first of many.”
“Your muse thinks we should strategize on getting your designs out there.” While she tried to get him to focus, she didn’t blame him for being in denial.
“Well, this man wants to spend time with his partner. Maybe we can talk about your writing. I would love for you to read me something.” He unfurled himself from the fabric, and he kissed her cheek before standing. “I finally feel like things are official between us. I need my muse now more than ever.”
The anxiety that left her had barreled back full force. She had rushed to him, cared his designs got out in the world, was going to his apartment, spending the night and even reading to him. While she tried to push her doubts away about him, and models and being his, two doubts continued to bubble to the surface.
What if she wasn’t his muse and what happened if the magic wore off?
Would he tell her he didn’t need her anymore?
She prayed his rejection wasn’t a sign.
Chapter Ten
“DID ANYONE EVER TELL YOU, you’re gorgeous when you’re wet?” Blake took Luna’s face in his hands and kissed her.
“Yes, you did on your studio floor about an hour ago.” She shook her head and laughed, leaning back to let the water from the shower rinse the conditioner out of her hair.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” Though he had been at her place on numerous occasions, she artfully skirted his invitation here. He couldn’t believe the two had finally converged.
“Are you sure you don’t mind staying in tonight?” Once more, he pushed her against the tiled wall. The simple thought of her could make him hard in an instant. When they first stepped into the steamy shower together he couldn’t help but christen the spot. If he had his way, by the end of the weekend they would leave no room untouched by their unbridled passion.
“Your place is more like a hotel than an apartment.” She shook her head. “It’s totally fine and will give us more time to strategize.”
“That is not the strategy I want to talk about.” Not wanting to rehash the LA Fashion Week fiasco, he gave her another kiss. “Let me make sure the food is on the way. Your robe is on the hook on the door. Your side of the bathroom is the left. I’ve taken care of everything.” His instinct, coupled with some scant few stories she relayed, told him she didn’t get much pampering, and for the first time, he was overwhelmed with the urge to take care of someone.
Before she had a chance to try to drag him back into business, gave her a playful pinch on her backside and got out of the shower. After a quick dry off and throwing on his robe, he walked through his bedroom and into the main room. Sure enough, the food he’d ordered for them was set out on the dining room table. The room service was one of the reasons he’d chosen this apartment. Well, the room service and the maid service.
Maybe his place was more like a hotel. Either way he liked it, and his fathers said it was the next best thing to living with them. He shrugged, quickly picked up his phone and glanced at his email. Fine, he checked to see if maybe he’d received another email from the coordinators telling him they’d made a mistake.
With nothing but some details from Sam and junk, he fought the urge to send the email to his dads and tossed the phone down the counter. Figured they would let out the news on a Friday evening when there was nothing that could be done to fix the situation, or even react.
The blow of the news still draped over him like a cheap polyester, but he had to remain strong for Luna.
“I’m pretty sure this is a hotel. My side of the bathroom had a miniature wrapped soap.” In the blood red robe he purchased for her and matching kitten heel slippers, Luna joined him. “I’m not sure about the label on this though, I’m sort of getting spoiled.”
“My muse deserves to be spoiled.” He corralled her over to the table and poured the wine. “I saw that when Sam and I were out doing research and had to buy it. I swear the woman in the store thought I was buying it for him.” After placing a glass in front of her, he sat and looked down at the silverware. Suddenly, it felt weird to talk about clothing and design.
“Every time I get rejection on my writing, I swear that’s the last thing I’m going to write. Within two minutes, my mind usually conjures something out of nowhere, and I run to the garbage for my journal and my favorite pen to jot down the idea. Then I feel like I betrayed myself by letting the writing come out.”
She understood. He lifted his head and stared at her.
“The worst is when people tell me it’s going to be okay, that my writing is great and not to worry. They tell me I’ll get published and spew all those things people are supposed to say when you just got your heart ripped out of your chest and handed to you.”
From his seat at the head of the table, he grabbed her hand.
“You don’t want to tell people you’re working again, and you don’t really want anyone to ask. You dread when people do, because you have to give them an answer, and then you feel defective.” In an unusual show of emotion, her eyes glossed over. “No matter what you do, that rejection is always there, and it’s hard to be happy for anything else, but eventually it fades and things return to normal.”
He pressed the back of her hand to his lips. “No wonder you’re a writer, you just said everything I couldn’t quite put into words.”
“I think if I ever get published it will only be through a greeting card company.” She let out a nervous laugh.
“You know, you’re too hard on yourself. I think the world needs greeting card writers. The world needs more of your poetry. Maybe it would make those elusive ‘they’ people stop and smile.” Needing to be closer to her, he scooted his chair over. “You should do a reading, somewhere other than a coffee shop, something different like at the club.”
“Oh, my God.” She tightened her hold on his hand. “That’s it!”
“Well, at least I can get someone’s career in order.” The excitement that lit up her face made him smile, but like she described, his rejection was still there.
“Not my career.” She shot out of her chair and paced around the dining room table, stopping and pointing at him. “Your career.”
At the moment, he had more than enough talking about his career. “Luna, can we just have our weekend?”
“Blake.” She put her hands on her hips. “At least hear me out and then I’ll let it lie.”
Something told him she wouldn’t let this lie no matter whether he heard her out or not, but he nodded and began uncovering the dishes for their increasingly late dinner.
“Blake Designs will have their show at the club. It’s the perfect venue, large and right by the fashion district.” Energy bubbled up through her voice and she practically jumped.
A silver dome in his hand and while staring down at his plate of tarragon chicken with cream sauce, he considered her proposal. “How do you expect to pull that off?”
“First, it’s we, not me or you.” She tapped her foot on the tile floor. “Can you stop looking at the food for a second?”
Well, he liked the sound of we and turned to her.
“You designed a revolution. We’ll give those buyers and media people what you designed – anarchy, chaos, defiance.”
Fine, now he actually tried to listen to her and put the dome down. “How do you expect to get these buyers and media people to an event that’s not part of the official program.”
“We.” She stomped her foot. “I told you. Anarchy, chaos and defiance.”
“Those things don’t make a runway show.”
“I’ve been watching runway shows on the internet, they are more like a performance than anything else. We give them a revolution. Invite the buyers and media people a day before the official event starts. We ease in on their turf for a night at the club featuring a revolution in fashion, one that doesn’t need the confines of fashion week to succeed.”
The feeling of failure, disappointment and emb
arrassment faded just the smallest amount at the mischief and mayhem sparkling in her eyes. “I have lists we can use for invitations, but I don’t know anything about planning such an event. We would need help.” All his life in situations like this someone always came along and fixed things, his fathers, Sam, Sam’s family, professors. Now, like fate, Luna was here.
“Give them what you designed, what you promised.” She lifted her chin. “I got the rest.”
A thrill sizzled through her. He walked over to her and stared into her eyes. “What we designed. You’re my muse, without you there would be no line at all.”
“Well, I hope to God the muse doesn’t wear off. Where would I be then?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t worry. You’re on a roll.” He took her in his arms and bent her back. Throughout his life he was gifted with all the right people. Yes, he wanted to take care of her, but she proved to want to reciprocate and she never lost faith in him. “I am a blessed man to have such a brilliant muse. You can totally do this.”
“We can.” With a teasing tone she pursed her lips.
Opportunity staring him in the face, literally, he kissed her. “You fixed it.”
Chapter Eleven
“MISS LUNA.” A man in a grey and white uniform tiptoed into Blake’s living room rolling a teacart.
Luna looked up from her four yellow pads laid out on the coffee table. Even after three days of having her every need tended to by uniformed people, she didn’t know if she would ever get used to it.
“Mr. Blake said you were in need of your afternoon tea.” The man scooted the teacart by her and prepared her favorite blend, some exotic blend with a hint of mango and citrus. He used the silver ball thing made to produce real tea and put a brown sugar cube in the cup, stirring with precision.
After placing the cup in front of her, he also magically produced a linen napkin and some little biscuits he brought every time he made her tea.
She really loved the biscuits. “Thank you.” Not sure if she wanted to pop the confection in her mouth now or save it, she tilted her head and then smiled up at the man.
Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran Page 9
