Out of Control (Untamed #2) by Jinsey Reese, Victoria Green

every thought and emotion was filled to the brink with Dare. As he continued to devour every inch of me with unbridled, carnal hunger, I couldn’t hold back. I moaned his name. Over and over again.
    He groaned when my hands gripped his waistband. One tug and the fly opened, and I sent up a thanks to the gods above for button-fly jeans. They slipped easily past his slim hips, puddling on the floor at his feet.
    I bit my lip as I looked down at him.
    God. He still went commando. And he was so fucking ready for me.
    I took his length in my hands, relishing the feel of the velvet-soft skin of his hardness. He moaned into my mouth, then kissed me harder.
    “God, I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered into his lips.
    At those words, Dare froze. His body went rigid.
    Oh, no.
    He took a step back, taking in a shuddering breath and shaking his head.
    No, no, no.
    “Goddamn it,” he said, his face dark with equal parts torture and anger. “I can’t fucking go there with you again.” He tugged his jeans back up, grabbed his t-shirt, and pulled it on. “We’re not doing this,” he said, waving his hand back and forth between us. “You are my model and that’s all .” He looked at me with a pained, hard glare. “Get the fuck out of my head, Ree.”
    He stalked out of the room, and a few seconds later I heard the front door slam.
    I stood in his kitchen, completely naked, my heart shattering into a million pieces. A cold chill washed over my skin in place of Dare’s hands.
    He’d called me Ree. That had to mean something.
    But, he wanted Ree out. So what did that say about me? About us?

thirteen

    T he next few days between Dare and me were tense, cold, and business-like. We only saw each other when he needed to paint. If he didn’t have the upcoming show, and the impending visit from his siblings, I knew he would have just shown me the door.
    But he needed me.
    Even if he wouldn’t say it. Even if he couldn’t admit it. Dare needed me. And I was going to come through for him. This time, I would put his needs ahead of my fears.
    I was working for La Période Bleue every day from nine to two, then heading home for a quick shower before going to Dare’s where we’d work from three until nine or ten at night. After that, I’d head home to research online for a few more hours. I was not only trying to find artists for Sabine, but I was looking for future talent for my own gallery, and trying to determine where I could afford to start one and whether the communities could support it.
    With my limited funds I was looking at a small, humble beginning. If I’d had my father’s money behind me, I could have started up in New York or any other big city that had a thriving art community, but that wasn’t an option. Even if, by some miracle, he actually came around to approving my chosen career and offered, I still wouldn’t accept. My father’s money was tainted and always came with strings attached.
    This was my dream. I had to achieve it on my own. I needed to know that I could.
    Lucien had been getting a little too friendly again, but since I spent most of my time out on the streets, I tried to ignore him. However, every time I was in the gallery, he was right there—talking too close, touching me, asking me to dinner or dancing.
    “I’m busy,” I kept saying, trying to be polite, stepping out of reach, only to have him step with me. “I’m working every night. I can’t.”
    But he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
    On Wednesday, I stopped by the shop a little after two, before heading home. I’d spent the morning going through a contract with Marie Ormonde, an artist I’d found and totally fallen for. Her paintings were abstracts in bright colors and bold strokes, and gave me that shivery feeling and heart-pounding high I got when I knew with certainty I’d found something great. A hidden talent. I couldn’t wait to see her paintings up on the walls at La Période Bleue.
    I’d emailed pictures of her work