“Kavia?” She draws out the query, swinging her gaze back up to lock with mine.
At once, I clench my teeth to fight the sting behind my eyes. When I think of the last time she did this, forcing me to watch the light seep from her dark greens… Never again. I vow it from every parapet in my heart and soul.
“Oui, my sweetness. You…have heard me speak of her before. The woman who is like my second mother. The saint who helped raise Maximillian and—”
“Maximillian?”
I push out a long breath from my nostrils. “Ma magie. Please…you must try hard to remember. You know who Maximillian is too. And—”
She sweeps a hand through the air as if yearning to wipe my words free from it. Still, she blurts next, “So…Kavia…she’s involved here somehow?”
I frown, now betraying my perplexity. “Oui.”
“Okay. And she ordered you…to do what?”
I lift one hand to the side of her face. To my delight, a small tremor moves through her. Whether her mind admits it or not, some parts of her still knows me. Still needs me.
“To do the easiest thing in the world,” I whisper. “To envision my heart’s utmost desire.” I splay my fingertips along her hairline. Her curls…I swear by everything holy, they feel so much softer than before. I am beyond entranced. “That meant fastening my every thought on you, my Magique. Listening to Kavia, no matter how deep she seemed to be diving in the gammon. Hoping there was something to her plan. Praying that somehow, in some way, she would help me…” Before I can help it, a dazed chuckle spills forth. “And now look. Here I am!”
Her reaction is not what I expect. At the very least, the pillows of her lips should be twitching in wonderment too. Curiosity should be brewing in her eyes, a faint smoke at the backs of those green fires.
But she is already darting that stare away. Averting it from me in full.
Why?
After a few seconds, she murmurs, “And where, exactly, do you think you are?”
I glance around. This room, appointed with flawless linens, decorated with intricate care, and smelling of such fine perfumes, presents luxury I have never seen before, even at Versailles.
“I do not know,” I finally surmise, deciding not to share my initial assumptions. If I tell her it all feels like heaven, she truly will revert to gawking as if I should be thrown in an asylum. But one of the many reasons I love this woman is because she shares my skepticism about heaven, hell, and all the controlling trappings upon each by “spiritual leaders” who are naught but men in fancy clothes.
There must be another better explanation. We simply do not know it yet. Have not sought it out hard enough.
“Does it matter, ultimately?” I persist. “I am here, my arms filled with your glory again. And you are here, enjoying it.” Unable to control myself any longer, I let my gaze dip—taking in the sight that compels me like dew to a morning flower. “Unless you are this…enflamée…for another reason?”
My description flares straight to her cheeks. Her gorgeous blush makes her freckles look like stars on satin.
“Okay, this is crazy,” she mutters, curling fists against the upper swells of her breasts.
But she is too late. I have already seen what lies beneath. Peeked at the rosy puckers that are nearly spilling from that corset. Imagined the erect berries at their centers…and imagined all the reasons for it. That list is, thank God, very narrow.
She has to know that too but repeats nonetheless, “Very, very crazy. This has got to be—I mean—maybe it’s just a dream. Oh, God. That’s it, isn’t it? I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m not even here. I’m probably drooling on my keyboard and—”
I drown the rest of her fuss beneath the crash of my kiss.
Crash.
It is the perfect word. I have fantasized about taking her like this, perhaps more times than I should, but never acted on the desire before this uncontrollable moment. Before I crossed the barrier between need and compulsion, desire and demand, choice and commandment. I have to conquer her like this. I must tame her, taste her, and take her to a wild mental island of my creation. A place where no other words exist on her feisty lips save one…yes…
When I finally release her, so many minutes later, her head stays tilted back. The copper tips of her lashes flutter up at me.
“Oh…yes,” she rasps. “Such a dream…”
A low growl vibrates up my throat. I am conflicted. Officially she has spoken the word, but it has come with friends. Unnecessary ones. I order them away with another smash of my lips against hers. Another plunge along her tongue. A tighter hold of her stunning curves, ending with my greedy hand against her firm little derriere.
She gasps against my lips. I answer with a scoundrel’s smile.
“A dream, my luscious lily? If that is still so, then I pray we slumber a lifetime. Perhaps two or three.”
Another taut breath escapes her. “You have no idea how right you might be, my lord De Le—ahhh!”
Her cry, a result of my gentle bite to her bottom lip, is nearly as perfect as her orgasm scream. Nearly. “Little girl, surely you have not forgotten so soon, hmm?”
And there are her eyes, in all their wide and wondering glory. “Forgotten?” she stammers. “Ahhh…what, exactly?”
I nibble her top lip this time. “That surely you meant Monsieur le Duke De Leon?”
“Duke?” Her greens pop even wider. Mon dieu, such emerald glory. “Duke De Leon? Okay, this plot is thickening.”
Fate, in its divine humor, has that word corresponding to my next move before either of us can help it. As she spills the description, I am already swerving the spear at my center into the soft cleft of hers. We groan and laugh together. Suddenly, everything feels right again. Like us again. She admits it, as well. Not out loud, but in so many other ways. The weight that is gone from her mirth. The dimples that reappear in her cheeks. Most wonderfully, the acquiescence that eases into her body—and the soft awe that spreads across her face.
“Well, talk about awesome timing.”
I push my forehead to hers and inhale deeply. “’Twould that we not talk at all, ma magie.” Another long breath in, this time to appreciate the nuances of her new scent. There is no more trace of the blood and fear in which I had to leave her. In which I will never leave her again.
“Ohhh.” She moans it out as my lips trail down the side of her face, tickling the curls at her hairline. “Okay, then…” The moan becomes a watery, sexy sigh as I continue my oral adventure, kissing my way to the delicate curve of her ear. “Should we forget about timing too?”
“Oui,” I husk and recommence my nibbles along her sensitive shell. She trembles in my arms before wrapping her own around my neck.
“Maybe…we should just forget about the whole time thing, period.”
I smile into her skin while pulling her deeper into my embrace. “I can think of nothing more perfect, my love.”
RAEGAN
This is crazy.
No. What’s the next stop past that? Then maybe a couple past that?
Because I shouldn’t be here, melting like ice cream in this man’s embrace. I shouldn’t be letting my own arms turn to taffy, winding tighter until my hands are threading up through his damp, thick hair. I shouldn’t be inhaling as if his whole chest has turned into the front door at MarieBelle and I want to consume every gorgeous ganache in the place.