It's Never Easy - Boudreaux Universe

“Are you seriously over her?”

“Yes. We would never work; I don’t even know why I proposed in the first place. I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t my father. That I wouldn’t lose the woman in my life.” He shakes his head, and I notice he didn’t say the woman I love, which I find intriguing.

I get that he’s over her.

And I understand they’re divorced—or meant to be.

But why wouldn’t you marry someone you didn’t love?

“Well, then we’ll figure out how to get through this.” I shrug.

“I want you, Nea. I fucking crave you every single day,” Julian says as he pushes to his feet. He’s so tall, looming over me, and I’m reminded about how he can easily lift me in his hands. “Since the moment you walked in here with that godforsaken, sheer black blouse.”

I think back to the interview, how he lifted the material as if it made him ill, and he sneered about how he hated it.

“Ever since I smelled that fucking perfume that got right inside my senses, all of them. It was as if I could taste you, touch you, smell you, and I never wanted to stop.”

“Is that why you were so angry when I wore it?” I tip my head backward, my focus on Julian’s gaze. He nods. I smile. He’s such a man. Every part of him is everything I never thought I wanted. But it’s too soon to feel like that, or to even voice my feelings, so I keep them inside my heart for now.

“I just didn’t want to crave you so much,” he tells me. “You’re here. My past will always be where I put it, behind me. I need you to know that everything I’ve ever told you is who I am. Shay will try to sway you from me.”

“Why? If she’s moved on, then she wouldn’t be bothered with what you’re doing.” Even as I say it, my mind is spinning with all the reasons that she may have to hate him.

Julian’s always been an asshole toward me, even when he wasn’t in a bad mood. But then when I questioned him, giving him rules in order for me to work for him, he’s seemed to reign in his temper. And I wonder if he just wants to push people away by being an asshole.

“My ex-wife and I never got along, at least, not when I needed to work. She was happy to spend the money, but when I had to focus, she would tell me that I was responsible for her unhappiness.”

“But she knew you were an artist. She had to have known that there would be nights where you didn’t come to bed, where you’re in your own mind, painting.” All of this makes sense to me because I studied art. I knew what it took to get those unique pieces on the canvas. But she didn’t.

“I thought she did, I really thought she would’ve accepted me for who I am.” Julian glances at me when I place my hands on his chest. The heat of him is soothing, even as we talk about something less than calming.

“I’m yours. I’m here. Take me to bed, and I’ll show you.” My words have fire dancing in Julian’s dark eyes, and I know I have him wrapped around my finger. All this talk about his ex has me wanting to prove I’m not her, that I can accept him for all he is. And perhaps I can love him too.

Julian doesn’t need asking twice. He never needs asking, but when he lifts me by my ass, I can’t help but squeal as I wrap my legs around his tapered waist.

He growls when I roll my hips, his body hard against me. The friction that sends jolts of electricity sparking through me makes me whimper. Julian’s eyes are deep green with lust when he kicks his studio door open, and for the first time, I’m inside his personal space.

“We’re here,” I say in shock.

He lies me down on a chaise that overlooks the lights of the city. From here, I can see far into the distance. “I wanted you inside here, to feel me all over you when I sketch you.” He steps back, behind an easel, then he tells me, “Take off all your clothes. I want you naked, spread for me, and I’m going to draw you for as long as I can hold out.”

“And what if you can’t hold out?” I tease shimmying out of my skirt, then my blouse. The deep and feral sound that comes from Julian has me squeezing my thighs together.

“Off with everything and let me see that body,” he orders as he sets up pencils, charcoal, and some dry brushes. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I’m excited about him drawing me.