Fantasy Lover(24)

Sunshine turned her sketchbook around to where Grace could see her rendering of Julian. "See the way the light brings out the golden color of his skin? It's almost as if he were really kissed by the sun."

Grace frowned. There was some truth to that.

Julian leaned down at her, his blue eyes searing her with their heat. "Come home with me, Grace," he whispered in her ear. "Now. Let me take you into my arms, strip your clothes from your body, and show you how the gods meant for a woman to know a man. I swear to you, you'll remember it for the rest of eternity."

She closed her eyes as the scent of sandalwood filled her head. His breath tickled her neck while his cheek was so close to hers, she swore she could feel his whiskers touching her.

Every part of her wanted to surrender to him. Yes, please, yes.

Her gaze dropped down to his shoulder. To the hard sculpting of his muscles. To the hollow of his throat. Oh, how she longed to run her tongue over the golden bounty of his skin. To see if the rest of his body tasted as good as his mouth.

He would be splendid in bed. There was no doubt.

But she meant nothing to him. Nothing.

"I can't," she breathed, taking a step back.

Disappointment filled his eyes. Then, his look turned hard, determined. "You will," he assured her.

Deep inside, she knew he probably spoke the truth. How long could a woman turn down a man like him?

Shaking off the thought, Grace glanced across the street to the Jackson Brewery. "We need to go buy you some clothes that fit."

"Can I help it if he's a head taller than Bill and twice as broad?" Selena asked. "It was your bright idea for me to bring him along."

Grace screwed up her face at Selena. "Fine. We'll be in the Brewery if you need us."

"Okay, but be careful."

"Careful?" Grace asked.

Selena indicated Julian with her thumb. "If women start to stampede, take my advice and get out of their way. I still don't have any feeling in my right foot from the last group."

Laughing, Grace headed for the road, knowing Julian would follow her. In fact, she could feel him right behind her. His presence undeniable, he had an awful way of invading every thought and sense she possessed.

Neither one of them said a word as they crossed the busy street and headed into the first shop they reached.

Grace glanced around the department store, looking for Menswear. Spotting it, she made her way over to it.

"So, what's your style preference?" she asked Julian as she paused by a display of folded jeans.

"For what I have in mind, nudity works best."

Grace rolled her eyes. "You're trying to shock me, aren't you?"

"Perhaps. I have to admit I rather like the look of a blush on your face."

He stepped toward her.

Grace retreated, placing the display of jeans between them. "I think you'll need at least three pairs of jeans while you're here."

He sighed as he gazed at the pants. "Why bother, when I shall be gone in a few weeks?"

She glared at him. "Jeez, Julian," she snapped in aggravation. "You act as if no one ever dressed you during your past incarnations."

"They didn't."

She froze at his hollow, empty tone. And the significance of his words.

Grace looked skeptically at him. "Are you telling me that in the last two thousand years, no one has ever bothered to put clothes on you?"

"Just twice," he said in that same flat tone. "Once during a blizzard in the English Regency period, one of my summoners covered me in a frilly pink dressing gown before she shoved me onto her balcony to keep her husband from finding me in her bed. And the second time was far too embarrassing to mention."

"You're not funny. And I know no woman would keep a man for a solid month and not put some clothes on him."

"Look at me, Grace," he said, spreading out his arms to show her his hard, delectable body. "I'm a sex slave. No one before you ever thought I needed clothes to perform my duties."

His heated gaze held hers enthralled, but what made her ache was the pain in those deep blue eyes that he tried so hard to conceal. A pain that touched her profoundly.

"I assure you," he said quietly, "once they had me inside them, they did everything they could to keep me there, including one summoner in the Middle Ages who bolted her bedroom door, and told everyone on the outside that she had the plague."

Grace averted her gaze as his words singed her. The things he described were unbelievable, and yet by the look on his face, she could tell he wasn't exaggerating the tales.

She couldn't imagine the degradations he must have suffered over the centuries. Dear Lord, people treated animals better than what he was describing.