Undressing Mercy. Deanna Lee
trembling fingers lingered on the belt of the robe. The double knot wasn’t enough. “I can’t.”
I glanced up and looked at his face.
He was staring at me in confusion. “Are you afraid of me?”
The question, so softly asked, was like a blade on my skin. It was difficult to understand how words could pierce so deeply, and so fast. I didn’t fear him, at least not physically. However, emotionally, he represented a world of sensuality and pleasure that I’d had long denied myself.
Shamus Montgomery was everything that I once looked for in a man: strong, intelligent, arrogant, talented, and thoroughly sexy. His easy physical grace put me on edge. This was a man who understood his own body and, in turn, understood exactly how to use it to his advantage. Would that grace and his apparent attention to detail prove to be more than I was prepared for? That is, if I actually developed the nerve to seduce the man.
I cleared my throat. “This isn’t the sort of relationship I normally allow with artists.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I want to tell you no and leave.” I looked away from him, angry with myself for letting him know how uncomfortable I was.
“Then why don’t you tell me no and leave?”
I flushed and stared at the platform. “Losing your contract could hurt me professionally.”
“And you think I should feel guilty that I’ve manipulated you into a situation that you find uncomfortable?” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me.
“You don’t feel guilty?” I raised one eyebrow in question, and wasn’t surprised when he looked away from me. “You don’t seem the type of man that normally has to resort to such things to gain a woman’s time or attention.”
“No, most would say that I have an easy time of it with women.”
“So, why not just ask me? Did you come to Holman’s knowing that you wanted me to model for you?” His expression spoke volumes. Shamus wasn’t a man used to having to explain himself.
“I approached Holman’s for the show because of you. You were my goal, Mercy. I value the work I’ve created. So, of course, I want it showcased in the best possible venue, but I could’ve had any gallery in the city.”
“Why didn’t you just ask?” I demanded again, more furious than before at his high-handed maneuvering.
“Because you would’ve told me no.”
“So you force me into a position where I can’t refuse you.” I turned away from him and walked away from the platform. “Don’t you think this makes this situation twisted?”
“A little. But I don’t let my own discomfort get in the way of what I want.”
I believed that. Moving further away from him, I stopped in front of a nearly empty bookshelf that lined one wall. A simple velvet cloth on one shelf held eight miniature women. Each was unique and beautifully crafted. “What are these?”
“They are a project I’m working on for my grandfather.”
I glanced toward him briefly and let my gaze go back to the figures as he approached. “They’re charming.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the first piece, carved in rosewood. “This is my grandmother, Lian. She came to the United States with only the clothes on her back, and a child. She had escaped China at a time when it seemed impossible. Once here, she sought out the man who had fathered her child.”
“Your grandfather?”
“No. My Aunt Jia is entirely Chinese.” He picked up another carving. “This is her. She’s a doctor in New York. Once my grandmother realized that she’d never find her lover, she took a job in grocery store in Chinatown. My grandfather met her there, and from all reports, fell in instant lust with her. That lust quickly turned to love. He promised her the world and took in her two-year-old daughter as his own. They’ve never spent a night apart in their entire marriage.
“Their relationship wasn’t an easy one. They had their problems but managed to survive well. They had three sons and a daughter together.” He touched the third female figure with a hesitant fingertip. “My mother, Grace, was that daughter. The other women are my uncles’ wives.”
“No great-grandchildren?”
“All boys.” He laughed softly. “Though Grandfather has hopes that one day I will have a daughter. He is one hundred and two, so as you can imagine, he is less than patient about me attempting to meet that demand.”
“When do you plan on giving these figures to him?”
“The next time I go to New York.” He cleared his throat. “We should begin work.”
I moved past him and walked to stand in front of the platform. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Men say that every day.” I forced myself to remain still as he walked toward me, and stopped just short of touching me.
“I’m not like every other man in your life.”
“I know that.” He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. I took a deep breath. “How long?”
“The first couple of sessions will be around two hours.”
Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes of naked time with a man I didn’t know. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at his face. I wondered if he thought I was crazy. Soap and the slight hint of aftershave teased my senses.
His scent was all male, and something else. After a moment, I placed it. He smelled like sandalwood and Egyptian musk. I wet my bottom lip. Taking my hand, he gently guided me toward the platform and helped me step onto it. His fingers deftly made short work of my safety knot. He spread the robe open and pushed it off my shoulders.
“Trust me.”
“What sort of trust would you have me grant to you, a stranger?”
“Trust that I’ve created beauty all of my life, and never once in all of my thirty-two years have I considered having any part in destroying it.” He cleared his throat, his gaze never leaving mine. “My father collected butterflies as a child. When I was eight years old he gave me the collection he’d spent years putting together. I was devastated by all of that lifeless beauty. As you can imagine, my father was at a loss as to how to deal with me.”
“Yes. I imagine so.” I took in a deep breath when he smiled softly.
“I couldn’t understand how anyone could admire beauty and then destroy it in an effort to keep it close. We eventually buried that butterfly collection in a small funeral in the backyard.”
“I grew up in an apartment building in New York.” I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on his face. I could hardly believe he hadn’t glanced down even briefly.
I released my hold on the robe, and a shiver ran down my spine as the silk scraped over my overly sensitized skin and fell away from me completely. I was exposed—vulnerable. Scared that I would please him. Scared that I wouldn’t.
Two years had passed since I’d been naked with a man. Being naked for someone was intimate, far more intimate than I’d allowed in a very long time. Somewhere along the way I had granted Shamus the trust he requested.
Exposed and worried, I watched him take a few steps back. I remained still as Shamus’s gaze left my face and drifted leisurely over my breasts and then further down. He inhaled sharply, held, and then released the breath as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. His reaction helped me let go of some of the tension I’d had coiling inside. No one can remain unaffected by someone else’s admiration.
“Lie down,” he said gently.
“On