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As the tattoo artist began whatever design Jameson had selected, I barely felt the pinch as the needle went through my nipple. I only glanced down after the gold piece was secured, the delicate barbell shimmering in the light. The technician moved to the other side and I arched my back, struggling with the various emotions skittering through me. Pierre repeated the same actions, only lifting his gaze from his task once.
This time, I felt the slight hint of pain, exhaling to try to ease the tension. When the other bar was clipped into place, I felt the difference in weight, almost laughing from the instant sensations.
When Pierre was finished, allowing me to rise from the table, I sensed a change in Jameson, his aura darker than before.
I knew then that the promises he’d made, the intentions he’d shown could not be denied.
He intended on owning me. Not just for an extended timeframe or until he grew bored with the ecstasy we shared.
The man with the gorgeous face, eyes that continued to roam over my half naked body had made a decision that I couldn’t ignore even if I wanted to.
I belonged to him.
My body, my soul.
And my heart.
CHAPTER20
Alexandra
The cool breeze tickled my skin, the view of Paris even more incredible at night, the streets quieter given the late hour. I stood with my hands gripping the railing, terrified yet exhilarated. The soft strains of guitar music floated from the open set of French doors, keeping me electrified as I gazed from the Eiffel Tower to the stars twinkling in the sky. The moment was magical. It felt like all the fairytales I’d had as a little girl had come true.
I sensed Jameson’s approach as I always did, taking a deep breath of his lingering aftershave. As usual, the exotic spices infused with sandalwood and just the perfect hint of orange created another significant wave of desire. I don’t know why I felt like this was a turning point, but when he’d finally revealed the tattoo he’d selected, I’d felt honored, and strangely giddy.
The creation was beautiful, the sterling silver rose woven with a single letter—a capital A. I’d been shocked and still was, uncertain what adorning his skin with my initial meant to him. I’d watched the creation coming to life, enjoying the process as much as the finished product.
I tipped my head, noticing he’d brought two glasses of champagne. How could I keep from smiling?
“You’re spoiling me,” I told him.
“And the issue is?” He laughed softly as he laid the glasses on the coffee table, quickly moving behind me, placing his hands over mine. “I enjoy indulging you.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you should be made to feel special.”
“I’m just a girl who lost her way.”
“Haven’t we all done that at least once in our lives?” His question wasn’t rhetorical but very personal. As he moved beside me, leaning over the railing, I sensed he’d lost himself in whatever moment in the past was continuing to haunt him.
“Who was she?”
He didn’t respond or seem as if he’d heard me for a few seconds. When he lowered his head, glancing over his shoulder, the look in his eyes was both primal as well as cautionary. “She?”
“The woman who broke your heart.”
His reaction was slow but intended. Then he glanced toward the Eiffel Tower. “Her name was Pamela. She was my assistant several years ago, originally from a temp service.”
“What happened?”
“She was very good at what she did, keeping me on track as no one else had managed to do before. We were working late one night. I took her to dinner. Sparks flew. We found out we had more things in common than we’d originally thought. Her father worked in construction like mine did. She came from a small town. We enjoyed spending time together.”
“Then what happened?”
“I became too dominating for her. She finally admitted she didn’t like the club, the kink and wanted no part of the life I shared. By then, her brother had arrived in town to take her home. We had a confrontation and things were testy after that. She was very tight with her family.”
I had a feeling there was much more to the story. “So she broke it off.”
