The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(64)

I didn’t trip once, I posed at the end of the runway, and a ton of photographers from giant magazines had snapped my photo as if they were actually going to do something with it. (I’ll probably share the next US Weekly cover with Kate Middleton and her new baby.)

A few of the kinder models had adopted me into their group and I’d made sure to snap a ton of photos with them for my blog. My readers wouldn’t believe the story when I finally got around to sharing the juicy details about my night. Of course, I’d probably dedicate an entire month to posts about the show. Oh that picture? That’s just me and GISELLE, chillin’ in designer duds like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And the dress? I wasn’t ever going to take it off. Ever. The sturdy midnight blue material was structured and tailored to my body so that it emphasized my curves. It accentuated my breasts without needing a bra (which, for us well-endowed females, is practically a miracle in and of itself). The fabric wrapped tightly around my waist and there was a sharp slit that ran up the center of my left thigh. It was seductive and beautiful, and as I walked into the after party, I actually felt like I belonged.

I followed the group of models to a table off to the side, taking in the party as I went. Drinks were flowing and waiters were carrying around silver trays of hors d’oeuvres that I stared at longingly but didn’t dare touch.

We crowded around a small cocktail table and I listened to the other models discuss their own versions of fashion week. They tallied up the shows they’d walked in and the number of couture outfits now sitting in piles back at their apartments. I listened with wide eyes, practically melting on the spot. I considered bragging about some of the more picturesque dust piles I’d swept up in my prior NYFW experiences, but I feared that most of the models didn’t share my sense of humor.

I was about to combust at the sheer awesomeness of the night when I felt a hand wrap around my arm, just above my elbow. I knew the grip, knew the feel of those fingers on my skin.

I stepped back to turn just as a seductive voice whispered against my ear.

“I didn’t realize you moonlighted as a model.”

Goosebumps bloomed down my arms as I registered the familiar voice. I inhaled a breath and glanced over my shoulder to find Julian standing there. A sharp navy suit stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. Black hair framed his sharp features and his eyes shown like two fiery embers in the club lighting. Desire spiked my veins as my eyes slid over him.

When I didn’t respond to his comment, he arched a dark brow.

“Jo?”

I swallowed and wet my lips.

He didn’t let go of my arm and when I turned toward him, my body brushed right up against his. His fingers tightened on my arm as my hip grazed his.

“It’s a long story,” I shrugged, trying to make the last four hours seem far simpler than they’d actually been.

He glanced down at my red lips and then his gaze lowered farther. The sweetheart bodice on my dress was likely his favorite part of the design. When he met my eyes once again, there was a faint smile where there hadn’t been one before.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to slow my racing heart. Having him there, this close to me, felt like it might be too much for me to handle. Usually I was around him in controlled environments. This? With me in a dress that was made for sin and him in a suit that I wanted to rip right off? He was temptation personified.

“Lorena dragged me to the show,” he explained. “She and I were invited to the after party as well. When I saw you walking in the show, I couldn’t very well turn it down.”

I smiled and glanced over his shoulder to see if she was still around.

“She just left in a cab a minute ago,” he said, answering my unspoken question.

I glanced back at him and swallowed slowly. So there we were. Alone. He looked divine in his navy suit. It was the perfect complement to his immaculate bone structure. He was sharp lines, hard edges, subtle lips, and inviting eyes. Every detail blended into an alluring combination, one that called to me like a bad habit.

“So now you’re here all by your lonesome?” I asked, just to confirm my suspicions.

He smiled. “If you won’t have a drink with me, then I guess I am.”

I glanced down to give myself a reprieve from his stare. Truth be told, a drink with a man dressed like James Bond sounded too good to pass up.

“I’d love one.”

He directed me toward the bar with utter confidence: a firm hand on my lower back, his hip touching mine as we waited in line. I bit my lip to keep from turning toward him and saying something I’d regret. He didn’t feel like my friend, Julian. He felt like a devil in disguise.

“What would you like to taste?” he asked, rubbing a slow circle in the small of my back.

I smiled with understanding. “Whatever you’re having.”

He nodded and turned toward the bartender. “Two gin and tonics.”

We stepped to the side to allow the next guests to order, but Julian stayed close.

“I haven’t told you how beautiful you look yet.”

I blushed under the weight of his compliment and glanced away. “You don’t have to, it’s just all the makeup and stuff they put on me before the show.”

His finger skimmed over my shoulder, down the length of my arm. My stomach clenched in response and for a brief moment, I closed my eyes, letting his touch consume me.