Melt Into You

She took a deep breath, the loss of vision disconcerting her. Darkness was not her thing. She gripped the arms of the chair and strained her ears to get an idea of where Jace was moving. As if sensing her need, Jace laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, grounding her. The tightening muscles in her body loosened.

His voice was soothing when he spoke again. “Now, the only rule is that you can’t touch the person anywhere overtly sexual—arms, legs, head, and face are all in play. Start with soft, easy touches above the neck. Like this.”

Jace’s hand left her shoulder and soon gentle fingertips threaded in her hair and moved in a circular motion against her scalp. A hard shudder of pleasure went through her, and she had to work hard to hold in a sigh.

“Feel free to use your hands or the feather we provided. The person receiving the touch shouldn’t speak unless it’s to use the safe word.”

Evan could hear the shuffling in the room as people adjusted and started the exercise, but all her focus remained on the lovely pressure of Jace’s fingers against her skull.

“Mmm,” she murmured low enough so no one but Jace would hear. “You missed your calling as a salon shampoo girl.”

“I didn’t say you could speak,” he said, his voice low, commanding.

The authority in his tone sent an odd zing through her. Whoa. She shifted in her seat, feeling warmer than she had a second before. She nodded, not sure if an apology would break the no-speaking rule as well.

His fingers halted as if he’d been surprised by something. Breath tickled her ear. “Sorry, Ev. That just slipped out. You can talk if you want.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll follow the rules you set for the activity. I can take direction.”

She couldn’t tell if the noise he made was an under-the-breath groan or a grunt of approval, but he returned to the exercise. His fingertips slid down the side of her neck and marked a whisper-light path across her throat that had her holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut beneath the blindfold. Without consciously deciding to do so, she tilted her head back, giving him better access.

He traced over the line of her collarbone, ever so softly, but so damn effective. It was as if each brush of skin pressed a button on her circuit board, lighting up places that had long gone dim. Delicate threads of warmth traveled down from the press of his fingers to the curve of her breasts, settling right into her quickly hardening nipples.

Dark thoughts of Jace moving his hands lower, slipping beneath the neckline of her dress and cupping her breasts in front of all these people had liquid heat gathering between her thighs. His touch would be firm, confident. He wouldn’t even care that others were watching. He’d just touch her however he pleased. And she’d let him.

She bit her lip. Stop. This is Jace.

She crossed her legs more tightly together.

Even if she could forgive him for how he’d treated her all those years ago, she definitely could never risk being around him again. Not as a friend, and certainly not as anything more. When he’d pushed her away, her entire existence had folded in on itself. Not before or since had she ever fallen for anyone that hard—let a person’s place in her world define if life was worth living or not. It had been stupid. And dangerous. She’d spiraled into the pit of her depression so fast, she’d gotten whiplash.

She knew she wasn’t that bad off anymore. She had taken steps to work with those damaged parts of her makeup. But she also knew Jace being near was like setting heroin in front of a recovering addict. She needed to run in the other direction.

Now if she could just convince her hormones of that.

Jace’s voice broke through the quiet of the room. “If you feel comfortable doing so, you can use the silk scarf to bind your partner’s hands above their head, so they can experience letting go of even more control. Then, you can move to touching the lower half. Keep the touch light and easy.”

Evan could see a bit of movement through the shadow of the mask, and a warm hand grasped her wrist. “Evan, sit up straighter. I’m going to bind your hands behind the chair.”

“Yes, si— I mean, sure.”

Sir? Where the hell had that come from? It’d slipped off her tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world to call him. Must’ve been that authoritative tone he kept using with her. Man, she needed more sleep. She was getting loopy.

Jace made quick work of securing her hands behind the chair. The binding was loose, but the effect potent nonetheless. Her heartbeat picked up speed. She’d never considered herself a control freak, but she’d also learned very early on not to trust anyone but herself. She wet her lips, reminding herself that they were in front of an audience. That this was completely harmless.

A warm palm ran along the back of her calf as Jace lifted her leg from the crossed position and set her foot on the floor. Goose bumps prickled her skin. Okay, maybe not completely harmless. Her libido was under a full-frontal assault.

She could picture him there, kneeling in front of her, knowing he could do whatever he wanted because her hands were tied. He could nudge her knees apart, slide her dress up her thighs, and run his tongue along the outside of her already damp panties. She sucked in a ragged breath. Shit. She needed to stop the fantasy reel before she started panting.

A new vibrator was definitely coming home with her tonight. Depriving herself this long had her on the verge of doing something stupid, like whispering to Jace to meet her in the maid’s closet after the workshop.

And making that kind of mistake would ruin everything she’d worked for.

Not. An. Option.

* * *

Jace was going to fucking lose it. He hadn’t planned for this exercise to go on very long, but there was no way he could turn around and face the audience at the moment. Evan’s lightning-quick physical responses and eagerness to follow instruction had his cock swelling painfully against the zipper of his dress pants.

She’d almost called him sir for the love of God. What was she trying to do? Kill him?

He’d known immediately that doing this exercise with her would be tough, but he thought it’d be because of the old guilt of knowing what had happened the last time he’d really touched her. But hell, he couldn’t even spell the word guilt if he tried at the moment.

All he could think about was how tempting those hard little nipples looked pressed up against the pale blue cotton of her dress. How silky the skin of her legs felt against his hands as he slowly drew his fingers up and down her calves. And how fucking hot she looked blindfolded and bound for him.

No. Not for him. She was someone else’s. He needed to keep that at the forefront of his mind. Shit. He closed his eyes and tried to block out what was happening—focus on something else. War. Sick puppies. Female bodybuilders. Anything that would get the blood flowing back to his brain and out of his throbbing dick.

Because he could not tread in this territory. This was Evangeline—not some chick he could haul off to his hotel room, fuck, and leave. And beyond that, he didn’t mess with other people’s women—not without permission. He’d been on the receiving end of that equation before and refused to inflict that on someone else.

He moved his hands to her knees, hoping those wouldn’t be as tempting as the soft flesh on her legs. But when he grasped them, he felt the little give of her thighs, the slight parting, and he had to bite back a deep groan.

He tried to picture Evan the very first time he’d met her when she was all bones and wide eyes—eyes way too jaded for a fifteen-year-old. But the image wouldn’t appear. All he could think about was the gorgeous woman who sat before him. A woman who probably hated him, who couldn’t even bear to have lunch with him.

He swallowed hard and, using his thumbs, drew tiny circles on the sides of her knees. Counting the rotations as he went, praying it would refocus him. Evan adjusted in her seat a bit and her knees parted enough for him to glimpse the lacey white panties underneath. And holy shit—the view was only half the torture. The sweet, hot scent of female arousal wrapped around Jace like a fist.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his grip tightened on her. Get up, moron! End the exercise. But instead of listening to the shouting voice of reason in his head, he found his hands inching higher, brushing the tops and insides of her lower thighs, careful not to hit the jellyfish stings. Her legs quivered beneath his touch.

“Oh, God.” The words were so quiet, so full of . . . need, he’d thought for a minute he’d only imagined he’d heard them. But when he looked at her face and the way her teeth were biting into her full bottom lip, he knew she’d said them.

Every nerve in his body seemed to electrify. Christ.

However, before he could figure out how to respond, the lights flickered and blinked out, blanketing the room in darkness. A few sounds of surprise came from the audience behind him.

“What happened?” Evan asked, stiffening beneath his touch, her voice higher than normal.

Before Jace could answer her, Dr. Dan’s voice rang out through the pitch-black space. “Just stay put, everybody. Nothing to worry about. I’ll go tell them to flip the circuit breaker, and we’ll be up and running again in a minute. Relax and stay where you are for now. Don’t want anyone tripping over anyone else.”

Jace started to pull away from Evan, but the sound of her quickening breath gave him pause. “You okay, Ev?”

“Can you see enough to untie me? I . . . It’s hot in here, and I’m feeling kind of . . . claustrophobic.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem.” He hopped to his feet, thankful for the lack of light. Otherwise the audience would see just how effective the exercise had been for him. Reigniting the flame was an understatement; he could set off a fucking forest fire right now.

Carefully, he moved around the back of the chair and felt around until he found her wrists. He hadn’t tied her tightly, so it only took a second to loosen the bindings. Once she was freed, he heard her rustling around—probably taking off the blindfold. He wondered if Evan still had a fear of the dark like she’d had when she was a teenager. His fingers flexed, wanting to reach out and touch her again, make sure she was okay, but he held back.

“Ev, stay in the chair, okay? I don’t want you to fall off the stage.”

No response came.

A few seconds later, the bank of overhead lights flickered back on, and he shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness. He blinked, letting his vision adjust, and found the chair in front of him empty. He looked around the room.

The back exit door was clicking shut, and Evan was nowhere to be found.

Awesome. He’d stepped over the line again, and she’d done exactly what she’d done the last time.

Bailed.

God, he was a jackass.

FOUR

Evan’s muscles ached as she unlocked the front door of her photography studio and went inside. She’d planned to come in earlier to get things in order for re-opening next week. But after the restless night she’d had, she’d decided to go to the gym first for Janice the Evil’s advanced spinning class, hoping the punishing workout would beat her agitation into submission. No such luck. She’d almost puked thirty minutes in and now she just had embarrassment and a sore ass to add to the restlessness.

God, if she could just get some sleep, maybe she could get herself back on track. Since they’d returned from South Padre, she’d tossed and turned every night, her mind racing and her body craving things she couldn’t have. It was as if seeing Jace again had knocked her whole system out of alignment.

Ugh. She dropped her bag and sank into her desk chair. What was the deal? She was the freaking master of blocking things out, of centering herself and focusing on the tasks at hand. But now she just felt . . . scattered. And all the things that usually kept her calm and content weren’t doing a damn thing.

Part of it could still be her body adjusting to being off the medication, but there was no way she was going back to those pills. After so many years on them, she hadn’t even noticed when the healing effects had switched from therapeutic to numbing. Until one day a few months ago when she’d seen her neighbor’s sweet little dog dart across the street during her morning run and get hit by a car. The whole thing had happened in the space of seconds, and her neighbor had immediately rushed to the injured dog’s side. But as Evan had stood there on the curb watching the horrible scene, she’d realized that all the things she should be feeling—sympathy, concern, sadness—were just . . . absent. Like her heart had gone hollow inside her.

That night she’d vowed to work her way off her prescription. She didn’t want or need that crutch anymore. At one time her depression had been dangerous, but she was no longer that girl, and she had no intention of living the rest of her life on deep freeze. But the change hadn’t come without consequences. Her whole system now seemed to be on the fritz.

So she was down to her last resort—the one outlet that had never let her down. Her photography. Maybe if she threw herself into her work, she’d find her way back to the stable existence she’d created before Jace’s reappearance had knocked her off balance.

“Hey, stranger.”

Evan yelped and nearly toppled off her chair. She glanced to the back of the studio where her part-time intern had stuck his shaggy head out from the storage room.

Finn grimaced. “Sorry, I thought you knew I was here. Didn’t you see my motorcycle parked out front?”

She put her hand to her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm. How had she not even noticed his bike? She really was in a freaking daze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Classes are out this week and I’m not scheduled at the restaurant until late, so I thought I’d come in and help you get things ready to go for Monday. Plus I wanted to experiment with a technique for a still life project I have coming up. I should’ve asked first, I—”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. You just startled me. I’m a bit of a space cadet today. No sleep.”

He locked the storage area behind him and gave her a mock pout. “Poor thing. Traveling the country with your totally tasty fiancé. Must be a real hardship. I could take over for you, if you’d like.”

She rolled her eyes. “Though you are prettier than me, Daniel’s too old for you. You’re what? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-three.” He smirked and tucked his inky black hair behind his ears. “And age I can work with. But that whole him being straight thing might get in the way.”

She sniffed. If Finn only knew how wrong he was on that one. “So how’d the Allen shoot go last week?”

Even though she’d shut the studio down for the most part while she was out, she had let Finn take on a few simple jobs to get in some practice. He’d been with her six months and had proven to be more than reliable despite the fact that he was balancing community college classes and a waiter gig along with his internship. The eager desire to learn reminded her of how she’d been when she’d first discovered photography. And his talent behind the camera was so innate that she had full trust that her clients would be happy—especially with the intern discount she’d given them. She was already feeling awful that she’d have to let him go when she, Daniel, and Marcus moved to L.A. in a few months.

He shrugged. “It was cake. Just a couple of business headshots. She didn’t want anything too”—he did air quotes—“out there.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Yeah, so nothing fun. She wouldn’t even do outdoor shots. I gave her what she wanted—boring pictures in front of a bookcase.” He shook his head sadly. “A little part of my creative genius died on the inside.”

He stepped to the file cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a folder. He tossed copies of the black-and- white proofs on her desk.

She picked them up and scanned through them. Even with the ho-hum background, Finn had captured the spark in the elderly executive’s eyes and her take-no-shit smile. “These look great—excellent lighting. You made her look a decade younger.” She handed the sheets back to him. “I appreciate you accommodating her wishes. Hopefully we can get something more fun for you to shoot next time.”

“No worries. I’m just glad you’re back so we can start booking some bigger stuff again.”

“Me, too.” She choked down the little pang of sadness that hit her at the thought of only having a few months left in this studio. Yes, she planned to get something new set up in California, but nothing would ever be like this little place.

It was located in what her real estate agent had called a “transitional neighborhood” when she’d first leased it. Evan had learned that this basically meant the little cluster of historic buildings was starting to be restored and inhabited by an eclectic blend of artists and other start-up business owners. But it also meant that if you hung around the area too late at night, your chances of getting mugged were pretty solid.

Finn shut the file cabinet and crooked a thumb at the door. “Hey, I was just about to go pick up a sandwich. You want me to grab you something?”

“Sure. Roast beef sounds good. Might as well completely negate my spinning session from this morning.”

He laughed. “Got it. Be back in a little while.”

After Finn headed out, she booted up her computer and checked the list of messages he’d stacked on her desk, grimacing a bit at the painfully low number of inquiries that had come in while she’d been out. Even with Finn covering the occasional headshot and family photo session, the workshop tour and her absence had delivered a serious blow to her business.

This kind of business was based on word of mouth and being available right when someone needed you. People planning weddings, children’s portraits, and senior high school pictures weren’t going to wait around for a photographer to call them back. They would just call the next one on the list. She’d once had a steady business building and now it was dying a slow death.

Well, no more. She refused to let her involvement with Daniel’s business hamper her own dream any further. She’d work as much as she could these next few months before closing the doors here, but she also would dedicate herself to building contacts in California. Los Angeles was going to be a nightmare to have a start-up—a place where everyone needed headshots but no one wanted to work with an unknown. She’d have to be dogged in her pursuit of business once she got a location up and running out there. Because giving up her photography was not an option no matter how successful Daniel became.

She was thrilled with everything he was accomplishing and the money it was bringing in for all of them, but that didn’t fulfill her like getting behind the camera did. There was something about capturing a person’s emotions on film that spoke to the deepest part of her. She had accepted that she probably wouldn’t get a chance to marry her soul mate or show off a new baby to the world. Hell, she hadn’t even had a high school graduation, just a GED sent in the mail. But somehow, documenting other people’s happy milestones helped fill the space inside her where she should’ve been storing her own. And it was time to start filling it again.

She picked up her phone to return the first call, but the bells on the studio’s front door jangled, halting Evan from her task. She looked up from her desk with a frustrated huff to find her friend Callie sweeping through the door, her mass of blonde curls staging a riot against the clip fastened at the back of her head. Callie pushed the offending locks from her face and beamed at Evan. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t coming back to work until Monday. I was just about to call you to wish you a happy early birthday when I saw your car parked out front.”

Evan smiled as she hung up the phone and stood. Callie dropped her overstuffed purse to the floor and rushed toward her to give her a hug. Evan laughed while the taller woman squeezed her for dear life.

“Wow, I . . . uh . . . missed you, too.”

“What are you doing here? I thought Daniel was going to keep you all to himself this week.”

“I just stopped in for a few minutes to return some calls before I reopen next week.”

Callie finally released her and put her hands on her hips. “For the record, you are not allowed to take this much time off ever again. I swear if I have to have one more lunch with Flower Shop Trisha, I’m going to keel over. She’s so prim and proper, I feel like I’m having soup with the queen or something. I know she’s probably lighting candles for me at church after some of the stuff I’ve slipped up and told her.”

“Well your immortal soul could probably use all the help it can get.”

Callie plopped into the chair in front of Evan’s desk. “Amen, sister. Though I just finished a weeklong cayenne and lemon juice detox. The way it’s been going, I think even my soul is cleansed.”

Evan snorted. “Why on earth are you doing that?”

Beyond the fact that Callie bashed diets regularly for cutting into her profits at her bakery across the street, she’d always seemed comfortable with her curves.

Her grin turned sly. “Well, a lot has happened since you went gallivanting around the country with that man of yours.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“I have a new boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “A new, devastatingly handsome, completely wonderful boyfriend. Even Finn gave him the thumbs-up in the looks department, and you know how picky that kid is. So I don’t want to look like a dumpling next to him when we go out.”

“Hold up. A new boyfriend? Cal, I talked to you at least once a week. You didn’t even mention you were seeing someone.”

“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Callie said, crossing her arms with a huff. “Every time I tell you about how great some guy I’m seeing is, I find out the next week that he has some catastrophic flaw—like he has an addiction to hookers or is a diabetic and can’t eat cake. You’re bad luck.”

Evan shook her head, amused. Her friend did have abysmal luck when it came to men, but somehow she doubted it had anything to do with a jinx. Cal had a tendency of falling fast and asking questions later. Evan had learned that warning her to slow down was like talking to a coffee table. And hell, who was she to give relationship advice? She was marrying her gay best friend.

She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. “All right, so dish. Who is he? What’s he do? And, more important, does he like baked goods?”

Callie sat up straighter, obviously bubbling over after holding back the secret so long. “His name is Brandon. He’s a nurse over at the cancer center. And he’s a total slut for chocolate cupcakes.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Totally,” she said, her eyes getting a little starry. “He’s picking me up for my end-of-diet lunch. I texted him to meet me over here.”

“Great.”

“He loved the photos you have hanging in the shop, by the way. Said you knew how to make a piece of pie look downright seductive.”

Evan laughed. “My claim to fame—sexy cherry pie.”

“Hey,” she said, pointing at her, “don’t underestimate yourself. I sell more of the products you photographed than any others. Seriously, you have a gift of making things look irresistible on film.”

Evan’s stomach clenched a bit with that last part. A gift. Yes, once upon a time she’d made someone a whole lot of money with that innate talent. She rubbed her arms through her sleeves, trying to fight off the creeping chill that always came with those horrid memories.

“Hey now, there’s an idea,” Callie said, completely oblivious to Evan’s sudden discomfort.

She took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the conversation. “What’s that?”