I dare myself to say it.Just do it.Don’t be a coward.“I think you have been ruined since the night Chantel took you in her hands and pleasured you. I think you have trouble doing that on your own now, so instead, you punish yourself. Youhurt yourself, trying to get where you want to go, and you get frustrated because you can’t.”
As my speech comes to a definite end, he stops the lazy kisses. He gets on his knees behind me as he smooths his hands around my waist and moves down between my thighs to cup my aching sex. All the while, I am clutching her violin, just as she once did. The only difference in this scenario is that I know I am using it as a shield. Against what, though, I have no clue.
Removing his hands from between my legs, he moves his palms up my thighs to run his fingers over mine where I still hold the violin. He traces each finger, slipping in between, and then his mouth is by my ear.
“What makes you think I don’t get there? And let’s be clear here, Gemma. Say exactly what you mean.”
Taking a breath, I feel my breasts rise on each side of Diva, reminding me thatshe’shere in the room again. “The morning I saw you.”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t?—”
“Didn’t what, Gemma?”
“Come. You didn’t come.”
“But in the vineyard, inside of you, I came,” he reminds me.
I feel my core clench, and I have to shift because there is no way to tighten my naked thighs with my legs crossed as they are.
“Yes, but you were with me, not by yourself.”
His left hand goes back down my leg to my inner thigh. “I like you like this. Your legs are already open for me,” he growls.
I once again shift mindlessly.
“Do you know your inner thighs are wet?”
I nod, trying to remind myself I am asking him something. “So, why do you hurt yourself?”
I feel his fingers slide between my legs, moving up to touch my wet lips. I shiver as my mouth parts on a moan.
“Because I deserve it,” he tells me.
I look down to see his right hand tracing the strings, almost as reverently as he’s stroking me between my thighs.
“Why?” I ask, wanting to part my legs further for him. “Why would you think that? You didn’t?—”
“Shh. Give me this.”
I let go of Diva. He accepts it and leaves me abruptly. I take the moment to stand and face him. I’m completely naked and quivering with need as he places Diva in her case. As he turns, my eyes fall to below his waist. He’s as aroused as I am, and I can feel the tension in the room like it’s a live wire.
“Tell me what happened this afternoon.”
He completely catches me off guard. Shaking my head, I refuse. Instead of answering, I take my hand and press it down between my legs, trying to ease the ache.
“This portrait for Chantel and me was about regaining trust and finding strength, yet youstillhold yourself back from me, Gemma,” he says, stalking toward me.
I step back as he moves forward, and my naked back bumps up against cool, rough bricks. I have nowhere to go, and he’s a solid, unmovable force in front of me. I’m achingly aroused, and at the same time, I find myself fighting the instinct to take flight and run.
“You want me to trust you and tell you why I do something, yet you won’t tell me what happened to you this afternoon,” he continues.
I open my mouth to lie, but I find his index finger up against my lips.
“Don’t tell me it was nothing, because I don’t believe you.”
Blinking up at him, I remain pinned to the burnt-copper bricks, like a trapped butterfly. Removing his finger from my mouth, he opens his palm and places it on my chest at the base of my throat. My pulse beats nervously against his fingertips.
