How You Tempt Me (5 page)

“
What's wrong?” He settles me back in the
chair and kneels in front of me. “Are you ill? Talk to me.
You have to communicate with me, Sophia, tell me what you need. I
can be absent-minded and forgetful, and sometimes I even forget to
eat and...oh! Oh, you haven't had dinner!” He shakes his head
at the realization. “You haven't eaten since...since...what
time did you arrive? And you walked all that distance...oh my!
Come, I'll get you something to eat.”

I see the stricken look on his face and feel his warm
hands on my shoulders. His worry and concern seem genuine. I begin
to relax, even though I'm still feeling dizzy and empty.

I manage to smile up at him. “Dinner would be
nice,” I mutter, just before my stomach lets out a ferocious
growl. I only had a sandwich for lunch, and I haven't eaten since
late morning. No wonder I'm feeling faint. But I thought my stomach
would be used to it by now. I've been skipping meals to try to save
as much money as I can.

“
All right, your stomach has spoken. Off to
dinner we go,” he says cheerfully.

“
Go? Where are we going?”

“
The kitchen, of course. I'm cooking!” he
grins. That boyish grin takes ten years off him, and I find myself
wondering why women didn't throw themselves at this handsome, rich,
young doctor. Maybe he beat them all off with a stick, or made them
test his strange sex machine. That might be a turn on for some
women, but for most women I suspect, it would just be too damn weird.

Where does that leave me then?

A weird, broke, hungry woman with a fetish for strange
men and machines. I shake my head. No, I'm just doing this for the
money. I have been skimping and saving to try to pay my rent I've
been skipping lunch and sometimes dinner. This contract is a
godsend. The thirty thousand dollars would definitely go a long way.

Julian's kitchen is spacious, well-kept and
well-stocked. I offer to help but Julian insists I just sit down and
wait to be served since I'm a guest. I settle comfortably into the
chair and place my elbows on the wooden dining table. He pulls a
bottle of sauce from the fridge and starts chopping onions, carrots
and celery into tiny pieces. I watch his fingers move expertly over
the chopping board, slicing and dicing and throwing all the
ingredients into the sauce that is simmering on the stove. “I
hope you like pasta,” he says.

“
Love,” I reply in appreciation.

“
Great. Because if you don't, I'll have to make
you a sandwich. That's the extent of my culinary repertoire,”
he deadpans.

I laugh. “You don't cook much?”

“
No. My housekeeper, Mrs Kenny, gets dinner ready
before she leaves for the evening. You'll see her tomorrow.”

“
She catches the last bus home?” I shudder
at the memory of that grueling walk from the bus stop to his house.

“
Oh god, no. She drives. Transport is covered in
her employment.”

“
Transport?”

“
A car is provided. But she pays for her own
petrol.” He starts stirring the pot and a wonderful aroma
fills the kitchen.

“
Wow.” That is some employment perk. “You
must be a very generous boss,” I mumble.

I see Julian lift his shoulders in a shrug. “It's
just a small, second-hand car. It's a necessity. You've seen the
distance from the nearest bus stop to my house. I can't expect her
to walk that distance at her age. And she needs the car to ferry her
husband around. He can't walk so well.”

He places a large bowl of spaghetti and meat balls in
front of me. The sauce smells just heavenly. “Dig in.”

I do. With gusto.

He sits opposite me and watches me eat. I polish off at
least half the bowl before I finally look up. “Aren't you
eating?” I ask with my mouth full.

He shakes his head and smiles. “Mrs Kenny made me
a huge dinner and dessert. Oh yes, there's leftover apple pie in the
fridge. I'll get you a slice.”

Before I can stop him, he is busying himself at the
fridge, extracting apple pie and a tub of ice cream from the freezer.

“
I'll be joining you for dessert. If you don't
mind,” he winks, heaping the ice cream onto two enormous slices
of apple pie.

I push aside my empty bowl as he sets the plates down on
the table. “But I'm stuffed. I think I'm too full for
dessert,” I protest feebly.

“
Too full for dessert? Never. How can anyone be
too full for dessert? Just have a small bite then.” He passes
me a fork and proceeds to dig into his pie. He looks up, the corner
of his mouth smeared with ice cream. I resist the urge to reach out
and clean it off with my fingers, or...my tongue.

“
How is it?” he prompts eagerly.

I take a nibble. “Amazing, seriously, this is
amazing!”

We clean every crumb off our plates and sit licking our
forks in contentment. Julian's smile fades but his eyes remain on me
and his expression becomes solemn.

“
What?” I squint at him. “Do I have
something in my teeth?”

“
Sophia,” he begins quietly. “You
have to tell me, you know. I can get caught up in my work, my
research and I can forget the time, the world. If Mrs Kenny doesn't
remind me to eat, I think I might collapse from hunger or exhaustion.
I can be careless when it comes to...” He lets out a breath.
“Inattentive, insensitive, inadequate...” He leans back
in his chair. “They're right. I don't make a good husband,
boyfriend or partner. I think...” He gives me a sad smile as
he stands to clear the table. “Mrs Kenny is the only woman who
can stand me.”

“
That...” That can't be true.

“
I haven't cared for anyone since...since...it's
just been so long...” He exhales a long breath. “I
might have forgotten how to care for another person, how to love, how
to feel...”

“
Sometimes, that can be easier,” I say
softly.

“
What?”

“
It can be easier not to love, not to feel. That
way, you won't get hurt.”

He finishes loading the dishwasher and turns off the
kitchen light. We are standing in the doorway, facing each other in
the dark.

“
Sophia,” he whispers, leaning forward so
that his forehead almost touches mine. “I...”

He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “You,”
he whispers. “I just never thought I'd meet you...”

My heart is pounding madly in my chest and I am hoping
and wishing that he will pull me close and kiss me. His lips are so
near, almost but not touching my cheek. He tilts my chin up and
looks into my eyes. “Sophia.”

The way he says my name. His voice is just so full of
tenderness and longing. “Sophia,” he swallows painfully,
pressing his forehead to mine. “You signed the contract. I
almost wish you didn't.”

“
Why?” I move my lips closer to his.

He closes his eyes and continues, “I can't do
anything with you that will interfere with or jeopardize the results
of the experiment. We...we have work to do.”

He starts to pull away from me. “I need to take
your weight, height, measurements...it won't take long I promise. I
know you're tired,” he adds hastily. “Then I'll show you
to your room and you can turn in for the night. It's been a long
night.”

“
Yes. Yes, of course,” I say, hiding my
disappointment.

But should I be feeling so disappointed? What was I
expecting? I might find Julian sexy as hell, but to him, I am just a
test subject for his machine. I have to remind myself to think about
the contract and nothing else. The contract. That's the sole reason
I am here, right?

I follow him up the stairs in silence. There are two
doors on either side of the landing. He points to the doors on the
right. “Those are the spare bedrooms. You can take either
one.”

I nod and he turns to the left, stopping between the two
closed doors. “Here we are. This is where I work...and...this
is where I sleep.” I stare at his bedroom door for a few
seconds. His room will just be opposite mine. He turns the knob of
the other door and flicks on the light. “Come on in. You can
see the sex machine for yourself.”

My eyes round. My curiosity gets the better of me and
with an audible gulp, I step into the starkly lit room.

“
You'll have to undress,” Julian says in a
dispassionate tone as we enter the room. “You can leave your
clothes over there.” He indicates a chair and turns away.

I stare at the various equipment filling this spacious,
brightly illuminated room. It looks like a laboratory of sorts.
There are computers, monitoring devices, machines, steel tables,
trolleys, trays, instruments, beakers, test tubes, and some hulking
machine in a far corner which is covered with a white sheet. I can
see a metal arm poking out from under the large sheet but that is
all.

“
Stand on the weighing machine after you've
undressed,” Julian mutters, his back to me.

I take a shuddering breath and duck behind a translucent
screen. Just do it, I admonish myself. This is what you signed up
for. And there is nothing that he hasn't seen before. He is a
doctor, for Christ's sake! He has seen hundreds of female patients.
He is a professional. This is just work. Nothing to be ashamed or
scared of. Come on, Sophia, you're a big girl.

With trembling fingers, I undo the buttons on my blouse.
I slip out of my skirt and stand in my bra and panties, wondering if
I can keep these on. “Can I...” I stammer. “Do I
have to take off, my, um...?”

“
Yes.” Julian's voice answers softly from
across the room. “I need you naked.”

The sexual innuendo in his words sends a shiver coursing
through my body. He didn't mean it, I tell myself. He means it in a
medical way, a naked specimen, not a woman.

Still shivering, I unclasp my bra and let it fall from
my shoulders. I ease my panties down my legs and throw it on top of
the heap of clothes on the chair. I look around for a towel or
something to cover myself with, but there is nothing on the bare side
table.

I look up and see Julian's silhouette on the other side
of the screen. I can hear his quick, ragged breathing. “Are
you ready, Sophia?” he whispers.

“
Yes.”

Slowly, he pulls back the screen and his dark eyes rake
down my naked body. His lips part and a fierce hunger burns in his
eyes for a moment before he shakes his head and turns away. “Would
you...would you please stand on the scale?” he says, gripping
a pen so hard that his knuckles gleam almost white.

I hold my head high, faking the poise and confidence I
do not feel and walk over to the weighing scale. I step up on it and
clear my throat. “Julian?”

He whips around at the sound of my voice. He walks
round the weighing scale and stops behind me. “A hundred and
twenty-six pounds.” I hear his pen scratching on his
clipboard. “Can I take your height?”

I stand against the chart plastered down the length of
the wall as indicated. He steps close to me, his chin just touching
my forehead. “Five feet five.”

He opens a drawer and pulls out a tape measure. “Come
here, Sophia,” he says in what sounds like a growl. I approach
him, my insides clenching at the sudden heat flaring in his eyes.

His arm curls round my waist and he wraps the tape
measure around me. I quiver at the sudden, searing contact of his
skin on mine. “Your waist is so small,” he whispers, his
eyes lowering past my belly button. He stares at the mound between
my legs, and I take a sharp breath, imagining it is his tongue and
not his eyes that is between my legs. My eyelids flutter shut at the
desire overtaking my body, and when his hand brushes against my
breast, I let out an involuntary moan.

He pulls the tape measure securely round my bosom and
tugs me towards him. He notes the reading but he doesn't release me.
Instead, he slides his hand over my breast and moves his knuckles
against my puckered nipple. I arch my back at the delicious
friction, and when he grips my nipple between his fingers, I almost
cry out with pleasure. He runs his other palm in circles against my
breast, teasing the nipple to erection. A whimper escapes and I
throw my head back, wanting him to take more. “Oh, Sophia,”
he whispers against my throat.

“
Julian, please...” I wrap my arms around
his neck, pulling his face to me.

“
Sophia, you are perfect, so perfect...” His
voice is anguished. “You have no idea...” He thumbs my
nipples gently one last time and lets his hands fall. My body is
aching and throbbing from his touch, and I bite my lip hard to
stopper a scream as he steps away. Why? Why won't he take me? Why
is he torturing us both? I can see the erection in his pants, and I
feel his hard length as he presses against me. I can feel the
searing heat in his touch, the raw lust in his eyes. He wants me, as
much as I want him, so why won't he just take me and satisfy us both?

It is no use asking a question that I already know the
answer to. I do know why he won't take it further. It is because of
that contract. He doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize the
results of his precious experiment.