Chapter Seven
The ferocity on Pierre’s face as he processed the import of her words was animalistic. She still clung to his chest and made full bodily contact with her hips against his lower torso. The stiffness she had felt when he had kissed her in her apartment earlier that day was now a diamond hardness.
Doubts and fears assailed Belinda as she struggled to find the words to tell Pierre to stop. She felt that this was too soon for them to be completely intimate. But when his lips descended to insolently reclaim hers, she did not have the power to speak or to do anything but return the kiss fervidly. She was already topless---and breathless---in the man’s house. There would be no turning back now because she didn’t want to.
She let Pierre lift her into his arms and carry her up the steep staircase to his bedroom. Belinda tossed her head back, relishing the sensation of being overpowered and transported by a man of near Herculean strength. An image of the merman in the waters of the Mediterranean Sea flooded her memory. Belinda wondered if she had somehow envisioned Pierre before she even met him. His sculpted body was as mythically beautiful as the one she had gazed upon by the sea. That was the last lucid thought in Belinda’s mind as Pierre drew her into a succulent kiss, laying her on the bed and climbing on top of her.
Peeling off her jeans, he kissed the silken insides of her thighs and lingered a few moments with his mouth affixed to her feminine center before retreating to frantically rip off his own pants. When he was inside her, she felt as though they had entered an erotic vortex she had glimpsed in fantasies but never experienced in reality. Their movements were wholly in synch, a natural rhythm that flowed through them like fresh water from a spring.
“Si belle, si belle,” Pierre murmured, ‘so beautiful,’ and Belinda marveled how divine the words sounded in French.
His hands were restless and his mouth ravenous even as he was inside her. She held his head against her breast as he greedily licked the flaming bud while gripping her hips. Soon, his movements were frenetic, and Belinda knew that he was close to satisfaction. Shutting her eyes tightly and opening her mouth to scream in abandon, she let go completely, welcoming the cataclysmic force of a climax washing over her. Tremors shook her as he found his ecstasy and poured all his desire inside her. She received his sensual offering as though it were oxygen, giving her life and energy she had never felt so potently.
Entwined legs and arms remained that way for long minutes afterwards, as neither wanted to surface or shatter the tranquil atmosphere by speaking. Curled up in Pierre’s arms, Belinda felt at home, a strange sensation as she didn’t even know the name of the French town she was in, had never been in this man’s house before, had only met him a few days ago. How was it possible that such unfamiliar surroundings and such an unfamiliar man felt like home? The thought boggled Belinda’s mind, so she pushed it away and nuzzled closer to Pierre.
To her delighted surprise, Pierre was a cuddler. He sheltered her head on his chest and held her body as close to his as he could without cutting off her circulation. Yes, Pierre was one of those rare men who didn’t bolt for the remote control after sex or pull away and stare into space. Words didn’t seem appropriate at the moment, so Belinda remained happily silent until the only sound that filled the room was the beating of Pierre’s heart and the rustling of trees outside his bedroom window.
*****
Late afternoon shadows bounced off the walls as the sun crept slowly beyond the horizon. Belinda and Pierre lay sleeping, still intertwined at every angle. The muffled sound of a cell phone ringing was loud enough to shatter the perfect peace of the room. They awoke at the same time as Belinda realized it was her phone. She let it go to voicemail, but a few seconds later, the ringing phone intruded again on their tranquility.
“Maybe you should answer it,” Pierre said groggily. He felt as though he had just slept for a thousand years.
“Mmmhmm,” Belinda murmured, rubbing her eyes and grabbing the phone. “Hello?”
The familiar chirp of Crystal’s voice greeted Belinda. “There you are! I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. I was getting worried!”
“Really? I just heard my phone ring now. I was sleeping,” Belinda muttered, still not fully awake.
“Sleeping?!” Crystal repeated incredulously. “Wow, you’ve already adapted to the European lifestyle with an afternoon siesta! What are you doing later?”
Belinda faltered, as she wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell her sister about Pierre. Crystal was harmless, but oh-so-meddlesome, and Belinda didn’t want to introduce a third party into her burgeoning relationship with Pierre.
“Um, I’m not sure,” Belinda answered. “I’m not in Monaco. I, um, took a little day trip to France.”
Crystal was confounded by this new information. “So where did you sleep, on the train? Belinda, are you alone?”
The harsh sound of Pierre clearing his throat prevented Belinda from lying. “No, I’m with a---friend.”
“A male friend?” Crystal prodded.
“Yes,” Belinda replied with a sigh, unable to keep up the charade.
“Ooh, how exciting! I want to meet him. Why don’t you two come by for dinner later?”
Exasperated, Belinda covered the receiver with her palm. “Pierre, it’s my sister on the phone. She…”
Pierre interrupted, grinning, “I know, I heard. She wants to have us over for dinner tonight. Just say yes. I’d be glad to go.”
Stubbornly, Belinda returned to the line and said, “We’ll stop by for dessert and coffee. Later in the evening. Okay?”
“Great! Come anytime. I can’t wait!” Crystal hung up the phone.
“That’s very nice of you to accept my sister’s invitation,” Belinda said, propping herself up on a pillow and making no effort to hide her breasts that spilled forth from the sheets.
Admiring the enchanting view, Pierre replied, “It sounds fun. I’d like you to meet my family too. Especially my son.”
Belinda wanted to pinch herself. It seemed too good to be true that she was in this beautiful man’s bed, basking in the aftermath of the most spine-tingling sex she had ever experienced---and he was being so open. So unafraid of taking steps forward. Belinda wondered if she had finally found that elusive, almost mythical, man who was emotionally available and eager for commitment.
But when he turned his back to her and started dressing, Belinda immediately questioned his actions. Why wasn’t he sweeping her back into his arms again for another round of lovemaking? Trying not to overthink his behavior, Belinda bit her lip, hoping she had just worn him out and he was too tired for another round.
“Let’s get dressed,” he directed in that authoritative tone she found so arrogant yet irresistible. “I want to show you around my neighborhood before we head over to your sister’s house.”
In her plain denims and short sleeved shirt, Belinda felt surprisingly sexy. The aftereffects of Pierre’s lovemaking still made her lips feel swollen and her skin sensitized. Pierre seemed far more relaxed than he had when he came to pick her up at her apartment. He wore a slight grin and whistled as he tied his shoelaces. Belinda stared at the wavy mass of dark hair that crowned the powerful body of an exceedingly tender man. Listening to his soft whistling, remembering the drumbeat of his heart as they lay together, she was assaulted by the realization that she could fall deeply in love with this man. In truth, she had already begun skating on the slippery, winding road of falling in love.
Shaking Belinda from her reverie, Pierre clasped her hand and led her downstairs. They sat for a few minutes on the porch, sipping iced tea, before Pierre revved up the engine again and stole her away to some unknown place on the French Riviera.
*****
“I’m going to take you to Le Jardin Exotique de Monaco,” Pierre announced with a conspiratorial wink.
Bewildered, Belinda asked, “You’re taking me where?”
“The Exotic Garden of Monaco,” he translated on a deep note of laughter. “Y
ou haven’t done much sightseeing yet, have you?”
Belinda paused. She hadn’t done any sightseeing yet. Pierre could take her to see a rooftop pigeon and she would be content. This exotic garden sounded almost too intriguing.
“No, I’ve barely seen any of Monaco other than the boulevard where my shop and apartment are! And of course, there’s Jean-Jacques and Crystal’s backyard.” She rolled her eyes comically as Pierre’s laughter heightened.
“Well then let’s start your grand tour of Monaco right now. Fasten your seatbelt.”
Pierre hugged each curve of the road as smoothly as he had handled Belinda’s body. Still basking in the glow of their lovemaking, Belinda let the wind from the sunroof again tangle her hair as she closed her eyes and relished the ride. Soon, they had crossed the French-Monégasque border and were ascending a sharp incline.
“We’re going to get very high,” Pierre remarked with another one of his disarming smirks.
“I’m already high,” Belinda purred as he chuckled in agreement.
When the car had climbed to the top of a precipitous cliff and could go no further without plunging into the ocean, Pierre parked the car. He went around to open Belinda’s door and escorted her to the visitor center. They joined a group of primarily French tourists led by an eccentric guide who spoke about the garden like it was her baby. Belinda clutched a map of the garden in her hand, looking around her wondrously as a child would.
When they reached the exhibits, though, she was mildly disappointed. Rather than the vibrant wildflowers that she had expected to see---like the ones Pierre had graced her with on their first date---the garden featured countless displays of cactus plants. At every turn, a thorny cactus popped out to startle and assault her with a disturbing shiver.
“Where are all the exotic wildflowers?” She whispered in his ear so the tour guide wouldn’t hear.
He smiled gently. “You don’t think the cactus plant is pretty?” Pierre asked drily. “In a few minutes, you’ll see why I brought you here. Be patient.”
Belinda remained mum as the tour continued and they passed through seemingly endless displays of the pointy plants. When the group reached the edge of the cliff, Belinda’s breath caught in her throat. The view of the horizon from sky to water was majestic. Belinda stared into Pierre’s eyes, telling him wordlessly how much the sight impressed her. He encircled his arms around her from behind and clasped his hands over her belly. Usually, she didn’t like men touching her in that area: too much jiggle. But Pierre’s warm hands felt comfortable, even complimentary, and she knew that he appreciated the only unwanted curve on her body.
Pierre pointed from the turquoise waters to the sweeping cityscape. “I want to experience all of this with you, Belinda. I don’t just want a view. I want it all,” he whispered the words gruffly into her ear as she melted back against him. “This is where it all begins.”
“What a beautiful thing to say. And the perfect place to say it,” she whispered back, reaching a hand to caress his face.
“And look down below. Beneath this cliff there are caverns where prehistoric people lived. This place is primitive. Like my feelings for you.” Pierre oozed the easy charm that had captivated Belinda from the moment they met. But now, instead of fearing that he was a heartless playboy, she felt certain that he possessed a very profound heart indeed, the depths of which she had only begun to probe.
When they left the garden, Pierre gave her another surprise in the car. “You know, since I’m going to meet your sister later, why don’t you meet my son now? Why wait?”
“Are you sure, Pierre? I would love to meet him, but if you think it’s too soon…”
“If I thought it were too soon, I wouldn’t suggest it. Let’s go. It’s just a quick drive back to Nice to my sister’s house. We’ll surprise my boy and take him out for ice cream! And don’t worry about speaking French to him. He attends a bilingual nursery school, so you can help him improve his English!”
Belinda beamed at him, affectionately ruffling up his hair, and picturing the little boy in her mind. Something told her that Marc Cédaire would be an adorable miniature version of his father. And if their charismatic personalities matched too, then little Marc would already be well on his way to heartbreaker status.
When they arrived at the home of Pierre’s sister, Marc was perched on a tree swing in the front yard. Belinda spotted him immediately and clapped her hands in delight. When Marc saw his father, he dismounted the swing, running towards him. Pierre scooped the boy up into his arms and gave him an adoring kiss on the cheek. Yes, he was just as Belinda had envisioned. Except for a pair of shocking blue eyes and prominent dimples, the boy was a genetic duplicate of his father.
“Marc, this is a special lady I’d like you to meet. Her name is Belinda.” Pierre set the boy down on the ground.
Marc stared up at Belinda curiously before exclaiming in heavily accented English, “Hi lady!”
“Well, hello there, Marc. It’s so nice to meet you. Enchantée.”
The little boy tittered when she spoke the French term that translates roughly as ‘nice to meet you.’ Pierre looked from Belinda to Marc and smiled broadly. He felt confident that their acquaintance was off to a positive start.
“Belinda and I are going to take you for ice cream now! We just have to tell your aunt first so she doesn’t get worried.”
“Ooh, ice cream! Can I get three scoops, Papa?” Marc implored with shining aquatic eyes.
“I think we can arrange that,” Pierre replied amiably, rumpling the boy’s hair.
The front door to the house opened and out strolled a beautiful woman whom Belinda presumed to be Pierre’s sister. With a classic chin length bob that accented smoky, seductive eyes, the woman was a portrait of elegance. Behind her skipped two little boys, giggling and chattering in colloquial French.
“Nathalie, please meet Belinda.” Pierre turned from his sister to his lover. “Belinda, this is my sister, Nathalie.”
Surprise lit up Nathalie’s pretty brown eyes as she outstretched her arms to hug Belinda. Appraising the new woman from head to toe, Nathalie smiled mischievously. “It’s so nice to meet you, Belinda. You must be very special to Pierre. I can’t remember the last time he introduced someone to the family, especially to Marc.”
Pierre’s face shifted from tan to beet red as he wrung his hands nervously. Was he embarrassed? Belinda wondered if the suave Pierre Say Dare were even capable of such an emotion. But as he stood there in silence, shifting his weight from foot to foot, Belinda knew that Nathalie had struck a nerve.
Marc spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. Tugging on his father’s sleeve, he implored, “Papa, can we get ice cream now? Can we go?”
Pierre laughed and patted the boy on the back. “Yes, now that Tante Nathalie knows where we’ll be, we can get going.”
Marc’s little cousins gazed up at their mother, begging with innocent doe eyes for her to let them go for ice cream too. “No, boys, let Oncle Pierre take Belinda and Marc. We’ll stay here and help Papa in the yard.”
The boys whined for a few moments until their father emerged with a colorful kite in hand. Whooping excitedly, the boys chased him into the backyard.
“Xavier and Mathieu love to fly kites! We don’t have much space in the backyard, but to them it’s like a jungle!” Nathalie said lightly, running a hand through her short silky hair.
Belinda gazed admiringly at her. Nathalie was clearly a few years younger than Belinda, perhaps in her mid thirties. She possessed an unassuming quality that instantly set a person at ease. The smugly seductive gene in the Cédaire family had obviously bypassed Nathalie. Her charm was pure and unaware.
“It was great to meet you, Nathalie,” Belinda said warmly.
“Yes, I hope to see you again very soon!” Nathalie enthused as Pierre’s face flushed again.
Dark Chocolate Murder Page 8