She was beautiful. So much more than his imagination could have conceived. Sylvie was graceful and curved, her body matching the soul he’d come to rely on.
“I would really like for you to touch me,” she whispered.
He would never deny her a request for affection. He leaned over and kissed her again, pressing her back onto the bed and covering her body with his. They seemed to fit together, her legs winding around his waist, offering him a place at her core.
But he took his time, kissing his way down her body, learning her in a completely new way. He mapped her curves and valleys, breathed in her scent, and memorized the look on her face, the feel of her hands gripping him. Every desperate sound he drew from her took him higher until he couldn’t handle being apart from her one second more.
He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a condom. He’d only started carrying it around the day of their marriage. He’d been optimistic, and he now realized how odd that was for him. He was a natural pessimist, but she brought out the best in him.
He managed to roll it over his erection, staring down at her and acknowledging that this was one of those moments. Like the accident. Like leaving her the first time. Like all the loss. This was one of those moments that would define him.
She reached out a hand as though she realized he needed her to lead him where he wanted to go.
“I’m crazy about you, Sylvie Darois,” he managed to say as she wrapped herself around him.
“Back at you,” she whispered, and then she gasped as he joined them together for the first time.
He pressed inside her, the heat and tightness making him damn near lose his mind, but he held back. He somehow managed to find a rhythm that soon had her calling out his name, her nails digging deliciously into his back before he allowed himself to let go.
Then he was the one calling for her, slipping over the edge in the best way possible.
When it was over, he curled himself around her and vowed to never let her go.
* * *
* * *
Late in the night, Sylvie turned on her side and stared down at Rene, his gorgeous face illuminated in the candlelight. It played along his skin, softening even that razor-edge jawline. Or maybe it was the hint of scruff coming in. Either way, he was beautiful.
I’m crazy about you, Sylvie Darois.
It wasn’t I love you. It wasn’t the exact words she’d longed to hear, but maybe that was all right. After all, he’d shown her so much he’d kept hidden. He’d shown her the passionate lover underneath all that politeness.
“Are you cold?” His eyes came open, steady on her. “I can get another blanket.”
She shook her head. She’d actually kicked off most of the covers. “No. You’re a furnace. Seriously, you give off a lot of heat.”
“Then I’ll be good to have around in the winter.” He wrapped an arm around her and she suddenly found herself on her back, Rene looming over her. “I’ll get you a fan for the rest of the year. You’ll have to put up with it.”
He was forgetting their living arrangements. “But I’ve got my own room.”
“Which you will not be sleeping in anymore. Or you can sleep in it and I’ll sneak into your bed every night.” He stared down at her. “This changes things.”
She knew it did. She felt it deep down, but she needed to hear him say it. They’d said a lot with their bodies tonight, but it was time to use words. “How? We’re still in the same place we were before.”
“No, we’re not. We consummated this marriage, and now it’s real.”
He was so old-fashioned. She didn’t blame him. He’d been raised in Papillon. “It’s only as real as we make it. You’re not trapped into anything.”
She was starting to wonder if he was the one trying to do the trapping. Not in a bad way, but in a very Rene fashion. When Rene wanted something, he moved in and captured it. At least that was always the way it had seemed to her.
“Are you saying you don’t want to make it real?”
What was she saying? The talk with Hallie and Sera earlier in the day had sat with her for hours as they’d had their picnic and enjoyed the island. The whole time she’d wondered why they couldn’t simply talk about the real issue. And then Rene had stood out in the rain and she’d felt his need from ten feet away. It hadn’t mattered then that they hadn’t truly worked through their problems. She’d known in that moment that Rene wasn’t playing around. “I’m saying maybe I don’t understand what’s really going on. It was pointed out to me today that sometimes men and women speak two different languages. What do you want out of this marriage if we decide to make it a real thing?”
His expression had gone so serious, she almost wanted to take the question back. “What you need to understand is that it’s already real for me. What do I want out of it? Companionship. Someone I can rely on. Someone on my side.”
Again, not what she’d been hoping for, but was she going to throw their relationship away because he wasn’t using the right words? “You’re looking for a friend you can have sex with?”
“That makes me sound shallow.” He seemed to think about it for a long moment. “This doesn’t feel shallow to me. I’ve had women I slept with, women I had whole relationships with, because I was lonely. This feels like something more.”
Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. At her job, she would listen and try to decipher the forces behind what a constituent wanted. Sometimes a stop sign was merely a way to make a neighborhood safer. Sometimes there was a deeper need at play. “So in your mind, marriage is a partnership.”
“I suppose so.”
“Like your parents?” She knew he loved his parents, but even the best-intentioned parents could influence their kids in ways they hadn’t meant to.
“No. If you’re asking me if I want what my parents had, then I have to say no.” He turned to his side so he was looking her straight in the eyes, the intimacy plain between them. He reached up and ran a big hand over her shoulder and down her arm. “I seriously doubt my parents spent long hours in bed talking and making love. I want that with you. Not with some random wife. Only you.”
Just when she thought she could put up some walls and protect herself, he said the perfect thing. “Your parents weren’t outwardly affectionate?”
“Oh, they would hug and he would give her a peck, but they had separate lives. She ran the house and worked on her charities and was active in church. He ran the family and the business. They often took separate vacations. She would go off with friends, and Dad would take Louis with him when he was working. They took a couple of cruises over the years. They’d talked about doing one around the world for their anniversary, but he died before they could book it.”