I could feel my heart beating too slowly, too heavily. It knocked monotonously inside my chest like the dooming toll of an old clock.
He seized me suddenly, pressing me against the wall and lifting me slightly so that I was suspended between his warm body and the cool glass. One hand supported my back and the other delved into the thick hair at the base of my neck so that I was completely entangled with him. Suddenly, I couldn’t bare the idea of not being with him.
“But I want you. I want to know the flavor of the skin behind your knees and the way you smell aroused by my touch. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you against my skin.”
I was flushed by the heat of his praise, of his steely body against mine and I almost moaned with lust but my resolve still wavered. Could I really do this?
He took a deep, almost frustrated breath and for a moment, his handsome face was suspended in heart-wrenching uncertainty. “Don’t say no. I don’t think I could let you go.”
Oh my. That did it. I brought my hand up to his strong face and placed my forehead against his. “I’ll stay.”
He stiffened and sucked in a ragged breath. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” I smiled, joy blooming in my chest. “I want to.”
His mouth was on mine before I had finished speaking, hard and rough in his haste. I moaned as his tongue swept into my mouth and plundered. My hands sunk into his thick hair and tugged him closer, my legs wrapped around his torso so that I was locked onto him.
His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, sucking lightly at the tender skin there as the hand in my hair tilted my head back.
“Ah,” I breathed.
Urged on by my exclamation, he deftly undid the pearl buttons of my bodice to reveal the pale lacey bra I wore. He groaned at the sight of me and bent his head to suck at my puckered nipple through the thin fabric. I arched into the wet heat of his mouth and groaned. The solid length of him pushed against the apex of my thighs and I imagined what he would feel like inside me, stretching me and filling me until I burst with pleasure.
Suddenly desperate for the feel of his skin against mine, I fumbled with the buttons of his ivory shirt and pushed it from his shoulders. His skin was stretched tight across his lean cut muscles and when I opened my mouth over the skin of his shoulder to bite down lightly, the manly, slightly salty taste of him exploded in my mouth.
With a growl, he reared up and trapped both of my hands in one of his, pinning them to the foggy glass so that he could have unfettered access to my breasts.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, his hot breath wafting over my nipple as he deftly undid my bra and plumped my breasts between his capable hands. “I have to taste you.”
I almost choked on my sharp inhalation of surprise when he dropped to his knees and tugged my dress to the floor. He grasped my hips in a vice like grip and pressed his nose to the apex of my thighs, breathing deeply. It was unbearably erotic, seeing him on his knees before me, his dark head against my pale thighs. He ran his nose down the inside of my thigh, nipping the skin there so that I jerked. His soft chuckle fanned across my sex and further inflamed my arousal. I was quivering puddy in his hands.
“What do you want?” he asked as he pressed his closed lips to my clit and hummed lightly.
“You,” I panted.
“Here?” He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of my thigh.
“No,” I groaned in frustration. “Higher.”
“What?” he practically purred, swirling his tongue in my belly button.
“Your mouth.” I had never begged before, for anything, but all reservations had melted off long ago. “On me.”
I groaned as he slowly began to peel off my underwear.
My head fell back against the glass and I squeezed my eyes closed in anticipation. But instead of the lush feel of his mouth against me, the dull thud of vibrations against the wooden floor jolted me from my stupor.
With a vicious curse, Sinclair wrenched himself away from me and pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. He stared at the screen taking tight, controlled breaths before looking up at me with rapidly cooling eyes. “I have to take this.”
I nodded mutely.
He strode through the room in to the adjacent bedroom as he answered the phone, “Hello.”
It was her – the girlfriend – obviously. I took a shaky deep breath and closed my eyes. My sweat-dampened skin was stuck to the cool glass and my underwear hung off me in disarray. I had never been this girl before and the realization of what I had almost done shocked my system.
Suddenly freezing in the air-conditioned room, I pulled together my clothes and got changed. I considered running away into the night but the thought of it chilled me, like a thief or a whore stealing away in the night.
Berating myself for not bringing a cardigan, I stepped through the glass door and onto the massive patio. The breeze was ribbon soft and smelled fresh, faintly of citrus. I took a deep, bracing breath and leaned over the railing to gaze at the graceful sea.
I had never met anyone like the Frenchmen. The moment I had laid eyes on him, I’d known that, that there was something inextricably compelling about him. I was in over my head. Sinclair was older, coupled off and the head of an obviously very successful company. But there was something else, bellow all of it that called out to me. It may have been naïve of me, but I believed him when he said he hadn’t cheated on his partner before. It didn’t make the situation any better or worse, but maybe it was something.
“Have you been to Mexico before?”
I closed my eyes and didn’t turn around to face him but I could picture him, leaning against the door jam with his arms crossed, protected and casual.
“No.” My voice was quiet but I had no doubt he could hear me. “I’ve lived in Europe all my life.”
We lapsed into silence. I don’t think either of us really knew what to say and it made me feel better to know that the sophisticated Frenchmen was at a loss too.
“Look at me,” he said softly. When I didn’t he repeated himself firmly, ordering me this time.
When I did turn around, he stood exactly as I had imagined, propped against the doorframe with the light from inside silhouetting his mouth-watering physique. He looked cool and unruffled despite our almost lovemaking but there was something in his silence that was as vulnerable as me.
“Stay.”
It wasn’t a question or a plea but I knew how badly he wanted me to stay because I felt the same inexplicable need.
I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had a holiday affair or sex with a stranger, let alone someone in a relationship. I’d probably just screw it up, say something too intimate or do something to cross the boundaries.”
“Try it,” he coaxed, stepping forward into the moonlight.
His beauty caught me like a sucker punch to the gut. I braced myself on the railing to steady my resolve.
I couldn’t find the words to refuse him though. I knew that if I opened my mouth I would say yes to this man, this man with the electric blue eyes and the ability to turn me into live nerve endings with only a look. So, I smiled at him with my lips closed and my eyes downcast as I moved, carefully in a wide arch, away from him and back into the suite.
He didn’t follow me as I crossed the palatial room to the front door but when I turned around, unable to help myself as I opened the door to leave, he was standing in the darkness just outside the door watching me with an impassive expression but for the telltale tightness in his jaw. Quickly, I stepped out of the room and closed the door behind.
Only once I was in the elevator did I close my eyes, bang my head against the wall and moan.
Chapter Four.
I hadn’t slept well. Hours after I returned to my room, I tossed and turned, tangled in my sheets, wishing they were Sinclair’s sinewy limbs. Finally, around six thirty in the morning I threw the covers off and dragged myself out of bed. I spent the morning cree
ping around the resort, swimming in the ocean instead of the pool, walking down the beach past other resorts so that, if by chance, he happened to be looking for me, it would be nearly impossible to find me.
When the sun began to blister in the midday sky, I retreated to my room for a siesta instead of finding a shady spot beneath a palapa on the sand. I woke up restless around four o’clock, too eager to catch the last of the sunrays to continue my childish hiding. I was in Mexico to relax and I wasn’t going to let some inconsequential, albeit extremely gorgeous man, ruin it.
As I assembled my beach bag, I dialed the one person who could help me make sense of something like this.
“Cosima,” I gushed when she answered the phone in her lilting accented voice. My youngest sister was the only woman on the planet who sounded just as gorgeous as she looked.
“Bambina, I miss you too much.” The sound of city life interrupted her speech and I could imagine her floating down the streets of New York on her way to a photo shoot. “I seriously cannot wait for you to get here. How is Mexico? Any hot men come up to you on the beach?”
I blushed even though she couldn’t see me.
She laughed delightedly at my pause, clapping in the background. “Oh, tell me everything. And I mean everything. People always skip the best parts without realizing it. Is he unbearably handsome?”
“Oh God, Cosi, he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.” I sighed and flopped on the bed in my bathing suit and cover up.
“Oh, don’t let Sebastian hear that,” she whispered, referring to our good naturedly arrogant brother, her twin, who took his good looks very seriously.
I laughed but was too distracted by the thought of Sinclair to really mean it.
“Wow, he must be something,” she murmured, picking up on my emotional state. “When did you meet him?”
“Just yesterday,” I said, still incredulous that all of this could have happened in only one day of knowing someone.
I picked myself up off the bed and grabbed my oversized bag, propping my sunglasses on my head as I left the room. “Listen, have you ever had a holiday affair?”
My little sister, only twenty-two and already light years ahead of me in the romance department, laughed her throaty chuckle. “Oh, yes. I highly recommend it.”
I bit my lip as I walked down the four flights of stairs to the lobby. “Have you,” I hesitated. “Have you been with a committed man?”
She paused and I could almost hear the cogs whirring in her head. “You mean like a married man?”
“Not exactly, someone with a girlfriend though, a long term one.”
“Hmm.” She thought for a few moments but it felt like hours before she finally said, “Yes. Never a married man, I demand a certain level of attention and married men just can’t provide that.”
I smiled, as she had intended, but I knew it was more than that. Cosima was one of the most honest people I knew; it would have been impossible for her to live a lie like that.
“But I have cheated with a man before. Usually, I didn’t know until the deed was done but I also hardly saw them again.” She clucked her tongue, a habit she had inherited from our mother. “Why do you ask, bambina?”
“The man, he has a girlfriend back home.” I smiled at one of the Mexican bartenders as I claimed a lounge chair and shed my cover up.
It was a beautiful day with clear glowing blue skies and I settled down to get some sun on my pale limbs. I closed my eyes and allowed my sister’s voice to council me, soothe me down from my frenzied state of the night before.
“Listen, Gigi, normally I would say stay away from an attached man, especially for you. Given your lack of experience, I would urge you to think carefully about how far you are willing to go with a man you hardly know in a foreign land. But, at the same time, I think this could be good for you, to have some fun with a handsome man. It won’t be serious and you won’t be able to get hurt. As far as the girlfriend is concerned…” Her voice was strained, her Italian accent much thicker and I frowned with worry over her change in tone. “If he wants to cheat on her, then he will.”
It wasn’t exactly reassuring advice, but it was true, and I could always count on her for that. I took a deep breath and felt the sun soak into my skin like a balm.
“So you think I should do it, have a holiday affair?”
“Gigi, from the sounds of him, I think you’d be crazy not to.”
I smiled into the phone and accepted the acute pang of homesickness that pinged in my chest. It had been thirteen months since I had last seen my sister, and before that eighteen months since I had visited with any other member of my family. I was nervous to be moving to a new city, rejoining my entire family after over five years of being separated from them, but hearing the familiar strains of Cosima’s liquid voice reminded me why I was so desperate to see them.
“I love you,” I said.
My little sister laughed loudly, no doubt stopping people on the street with the sight of her joy. “And I you, always.”
I hung up feeling lighter than I had in a long time and coupled with a brisk half an hour swim in the cool waters of the pool, I was happy and pleasantly lethargic when I emerged from the water to bask once again in the sun.
“Can I get you a drink, Signorita?” a sweet-faced man asked.
“She’ll have the Sex on the Beach,” a strange voice answered for me.
I turned to my left to see a man stretched out on the lounge chair one over from me. His skin was the color of mahogany and it rippled across his gym-toned body. He wore small black briefs and nothing else. I blushed and looked away quickly. The waiter nodded and left to place our orders.
“What if I don’t drink?” I asked with soft reproach.
“Ah, but I am usually a very good judge of character.” He swung into sitting position and leaned forward to offer me his hand. “Stefan Kilos.”
I took his smooth palm in mine and smiled into his beautiful face. “Elle Moore.”
He had startling green eyes in such a dark face and his thick coffee colored hair fell to his broad shoulders in glossy waves. I wondered briefly if he was gay, considering how beautifully maintained he was, but one flash of those perfect pearly white teeth dissuaded me.
“You are the artist, yes?” He moved his lounge chair closer. “I saw your exhibit in Paris last month. In fact, I purchased one of your pieces, the Solitaire de nuit.”
“You’re kidding?”
It still astonished me that my art was becoming well known, particularly in France. My mentor at L'École des Beaux-Arts had thought me crazy for moving out of the country just as my career was gaining momentum. I agreed with him, and it was only one of the many reasons I was nervous about New York.
“No.” He shook his head and captured one of my hands in his. It was an overly familiar gesture but it was something that one of the twins would have done and I found myself beaming back at him. “I absolutely love it. It hangs in my bedroom at home in Greece, the blues of the fog over the ocean are masterfully brought to life. I really am a big fan.”
Pleasure unfurled in my stomach and sluiced through my veins like a drug. This wasn’t the first time someone had approached me about my work, but it was the first time outside of France and it gave me a flicker of hope for my artistic future in America. I allowed him to keep my hand and beamed into his face as I launched into my favorite kind of talk: the art world.
Fifteen minutes and three Sex On The Beach cocktails later, a sharp prickle of foreboding tickled the base of my spine. I rolled my shoulders to rid myself of the teeth gritting apprehension but it remained for the next five minutes as Stefan made me howl with laughter over the antics of a mutual friend.
“Stop,” I gasped, wiping the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Really, Stefan, you have to stop or I’ll die.”
“Well we can’t have that.” He chuckled but he frowned at something over my shoulder, squinting into the high sun to discern the intruder. “Can I help you?”
>
“No,” I closed my eyes briefly at the sound of Sinclair’s smooth French minted tone. “But I believe Elle can.”
Stefan frowned, catching my weariness and Sinclair’s obvious animosity. “I’m not sure if she can. We were just in the middle of sharing a drink, actually.”
“One of many, it appears,” he countered, coolly.
I flushed at the collection of glasses on the plastic side table even though I was more than capable of holding my liquor.
“Listen.” Stefan was getting irritated now, though he only rested back on his hands, exposing the mighty breadth of his chest like a gorilla seizing up his competition. “I don’t know who you think you are –”
“Stop it,” I said as I stood up to face Sinclair.
I blinked hard at the sight of him. Though it had only been a few hours since I last saw him, his astonishing beauty took my breath away. He wore a white linen shirt and light grey swim shorts that exposed his muscular calves and a pair of Ray Ban aviators were propped casually in his mane of deep red brown hair.
“Stop it,” I repeated. “Sinclair, stop being such a bruiser.”
“A bruiser?” His eyebrows rose almost comically into his hairline.
“Yes.” I nodded adamantly. “A bruiser. I was having a delightful time with Stefan before you barged in and I would like to return to it.”
He stared at me for a moment with dangerously still blue eyes before directing his gaze to Stefan. “I think it best that you leave.”
Stefan ran a hand down my arm but it was more friendly than sexual and I knew he only meant to reassure me. He would stay if I wanted him to and maybe even go so far as to tell Sinclair off, physically. After half an hour of conversation, I had the distinct feeling that I had made a friend.
“You know my room number,” he said softly, intimately, and I knew it was for Sinclair’s sake. “Call me if you want to get a drink.”
The Affair (The Evolution Of Sin #1) Page 4