“I’m glad you came back.” Jean-Luc’s deep voice reverberated into her bones.
She spun toward him, stunned that he wasn’t at work, stung by his bitter betrayal. “I just came to get my things.” She tried to shoulder past him, but he pulled her into his arms. She struggled in vain to break free, moaning in pain, tears streaming down her face.
“Please listen, Ella. It’s not what you think.” He lifted her chin so she would look at him. Anguish blazed in his dark, desperate gaze. “Colette has been coming on to me for weeks. I’ve been dodging all her advances—showing her I’m not interested, without insulting or offending her. So I wouldn’t jeopardize the exhibition.”
Ella lowered her eyes from his intense, impassioned face.
“Today was our last session, and she got desperate. Instead of getting dressed to go home, she came out from behind the partition totally nude—and caught me off guard. She grabbed my hand, put it on her ass, and tried to pull my face down for a kiss. That was when you walked in. Just when I was peeling her off me.” He bent down to look into her eyes. “Please believe me, Ella. It’s the truth.”
She desperately wanted to believe him, but doubt sickened her.“She’s everything you could ever want. And she can make you a star.”
Jean-Luc choked with emotion. “I don’t want Colette Ducharme, Ella.I want you.”He clutched her hands to his chest like cherished treasure, lowering full lips on them in a tender kiss. “You’re my Muse, Ella. Myheart.” Dark eyes pierced her very soul. “Since you came into my life… my art is more vibrant, my dance more intense. Your passion enhances everything I do. Everything I see and feel. Please don’t leave me, Ella.I can’t live without my heart.”
She flung her arms around his neck and buried her nose into the dark hair at the base of his throat. “I don’t want to leave, Jean-Luc. No man has ever made me feel the way you do.”
“Then don’t go. Stay here, with me.” He gently lifted her chin and swallowed her lips with his own. “Tomorrow, I’m going tole Musée de Montmartrewith Colette’s portrait. She paid for it, and I’ll deliver it in person to complete the transaction. I want you to go with me, Ella. Because I’m going to tell her that I’m out. That I don’t want to be the featured artist. They can find someone else. Reschedule the press conference. I don’t ever want to see Colette Ducharme again.”
Ella melted in his arms.
His warm mouth sought hers, tentative tongue parting her lips slowly, waiting for permission to enter.
Ella opened wide to welcome him in.
As his probing tongue delved deep, dancing deliciously with hers, his hands were everywhere—caressing her hair, her back, her ass. He slipped her tank up over her arms. Yanked her skirt down her hips. And moaned as he slid her panties to the floor.
She watched him throw off his clothes, feasting her eyes upon the rippled, tattooed flesh. Her fingers stroked the dark hair across his chest and traced the trail down his taut stomach. His erect cock begged for attention, so she twirled the tip of her tongue around the engorged, swollen head.
He groaned, raised her to a stand, and plundered her mouth with skilled lips as he edged her back to the bed.
Ella’s trembling legs gave out.
Jean-Luc laid her down. Kneed her thighs apart. And impaled her.
Wrapping him with arms and legs, she pulled him in deep, clenching tightly inside and out, as if she’d never let him go.
He arrowed into her. Cried out her name. And filled her with liquid flame.
After a while, they dressed and had dinner atla Maison Rose. Candlelight glinting in his eyes, Jean-Luc smiled enigmatically across the white tablecloth. “Tomorrow, after we deliver the portrait to the museum, I have something to show you.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Something I know you’ll love.”
“You won’t tell me what it is?” Ella finished her glass ofMeursaultand leaned forward in her chair.
“It’s a surprise.” His dazzling grin took her breath away.
The following morning, while Jean-Luc gave his art lessons, Ella slipped out to buy sandwiches and fresh fruit for lunch. When she came back to the atelier, a small package arrived for Jean-Luc. She glanced at the label.Au Temps Jadis.Of Time Gone By.
I wonder what Jean-Luc bought in an antique shop? It’s too small for a picture frame or lamp. Maybe this is the surprise he wants to show me later.Ella’s heart fluttered in anticipation.
They finished the sandwiches, then went downstairs to the studio.
Ella’s stomach clenched as they approached the door where she had stumbled upon Jean-Luc and a naked Colette Ducharme.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he squeezed her hand as they entered the room. He indicated the large canvas which stood on the easel. “This is the finished portrait.”
Colette’s head and torso were bent back into a graceful arch, with one of her arms curled upward and a leg lifted high off the floor. Gossamer white fabric draped over her body like silken feathers, as if she were a swan soaring through a cloud.
“It’s breathtaking,” Ella whispered, her fingers flying to her lips. “You’ve capturedL’Art de la Danse.Graceful strength… subtle sensuality…ephemeral beauty.” She spun toward him, mouth agape in awe. “It’s perfect. Your talent is incredible.”
He smiled modestly, pleased with her praise, and wrapped the canvas in protective cloth, tucking the edges carefully under his arm. “Let’s deliver this to the owner. And be done with Colette Ducharme once and for all.”
