by Ju Ephraime
”Control yourself, mon ami. You will scare Franchesca away if you keep holding on to her hand any longer.” He tried to temper it with a smile, but he really wanted to punch Thorpe’s face in. Where were all these violent thoughts coming from? He was not by nature a violent man. Granted, he did have a temper, but he was usually able to control it. This was a bit foreign to him.
He took the seat next to Franchesca. So she ended up being sandwiched between him and Thorpe like a succulent piece of meat. Where had that analogy come from? He should control his lascivious thoughts about Franchesca if he didn’t want to scare her away.
The meal progressed smoothly from there. Franchesca was able to keep both he and Thorpe at bay, responding to their numerous questions with a simple yes or no and turning the question back to them.
Damon enjoyed watching her eat. She ate with gusto and appreciation for good food. She helped herself to a plum and bit into it. When the sweet juice ran down her chin, she licked it off with relish. He was so fascinated watching her that, by the time the meal was over, neither he nor Thorpe knew anything more about her than they had prior to sitting down to the meal.
She was very adept at deflecting Thorpe’s questions. She was very enthusiastic in thanking Thorpe for getting her the crutches. He wanted to tell her that she should be thanking him. After all, it had been his idea, and he was the one paying for them. He could not wait to get Thorpe alone to ask him what the hell he was doing monopolizing Franchesca.
He was happy to see the end of the meal. After settling Franchesca on the porch which gave her a view of the front of the water fountain and the cherry trees that lined the driveway, he went back to his bedroom to change into a pair of loose-fitting jeans and shirt. It was a relief to get rid of the jock strap.
It was so wonderful he wanted to walk around naked and let his beast hang free, but he couldn’t afford that luxury. He wanted to spend some time with Franchesca and was already down one day. He had less than a week to make his case with her.
He didn’t know if she would be receptive to him, but if her reaction to him earlier was any indication, he believed he stood a chance. You could never tell with women, though, and he was not one to take anything for granted. Look what had happened with him and Izzabella. He’d thought they were in love… that they had a good thing going, until she’d up and left him. He was older and wiser now, and he did not want to make the same mistake by misinterpreting things.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He and Izzabella met while they attended university in Newquay. He’d thought it was love at first sight, but looking back now, he realized it could only have been lust. Both their parents were opposed to them being together. Izzabella’s parents thought he was a playboy, and they wanted someone more stable for their only daughter. His parents objected because Izzabella was not a nice English girl. He didn’t pay them any mind. He wanted Izzabella, and in his opinion, they suited. But as they were not together now, he had been wrong. At the time, however, no one could have convinced him of that.
Theirs was a short, whirlwind romance. They graduated together and went from graduation to the marriage hall, or so it seemed in retrospect. Damon made his first fortune while he was still in college, so, by the time he graduated, he was well on his way to a life of prosperity. They’d made their home in Cornwall, but they spent a great deal of time in Paris.
One year into the marriage, Izzabella went to work in her parents’ jewelry business in Paris, and he remained in Cornwall, nurturing his fledgling company. This arrangement put a strain on their fledgling marriage, and in the end, it collapsed under the strain.
He couldn’t, in all fairness, blame her for the turn of events that led to the end of their marriage, but the circumstances surrounding the whole thing still left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He needed to put those depressing thoughts where they belonged, back into the vault. He had better things to do today.
He walked back to meet with Franchesca and was pleased to be able to walk without his beast being caged. He’d worn the straps quite often while in college because he was on the soccer team. Seeing how uncomfortable he was wearing them today, he wondered how he was able to do it.
He heard Franchesca before he saw her. She was evidently talking with someone. He could not help wondering whom she was talking with. He had to slow down when he saw Thorpe was standing next to Franchesca, saying something to her that had her in stitches, laughing as if she was having the time of her life.
He was immediately jealous. She’d never laughed with him that way. He knew he was not as funny as Thorpe, but did she have to enjoy his silly jokes so much? Thorpe thought with his dick, and he let it control him. He had never been in a serious relationship and went through women like he went through socks.
Damon wanted Thorpe to stay away from Franchesca. He could send him to Cornwall to take care of some business there for him, but he didn’t want to appear insecure. He was very open with him, even in his marriage with Izzabella. Matter of fact, most people had thought Izzabella was Thorpe’s wife more than they thought Damon was. They’d spent a lot of time together.
At the time he worked out of Cornwall and Thorpe worked in Paris for a company in the same building as Izzabella. He didn’t see anything wrong with it because they had been friends from university. Looking back, he wondered if they had ever crossed that line. It didn’t matter now… water under the bridge.
He was happy to see Thorpe leaving as he approached her chair. He was so annoyed with Thorpe he didn’t look in his direction, preferring instead to ignore him completely. He was rewarded by the beautiful, welcoming smile he got from Franchesca. She was truly amazing. She showed no sign of anger or frustration at having her movement curtailed by having to move around on crutches or being pushed in a wheelchair. He would be champing at the bit had the situation been reversed.
“Hi,” he greeted her. He really wanted to kiss her, but he was not going to go anywhere near her cheeks. That would only be tempting the beast. He could feel him stirring even now, just by his looking at her.
“Hi yourself,” she responded. “Are we going for an outing?”
“Do you want to go on an outing?” he asked.
“Can we?”
“Yes, come, we’ll take a drive down to the coast. Do you want to use your crutches?”
“Yes, I have to practice using them so I’ll be ready when they remove the cast.”
“What was Thorpe saying to you that had you laughing so hard?”
“He’s a silly man. I think he considers himself a comedian.”
“Do you like comedians?” Damon asked.
“I enjoy a good joke just as much as the next person. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, I’m only trying to get a feel for what you like.”
*****
She was tempted to tell him, “You know what I like,” but she held her tongue and pretended that she was concentrating on managing the crutches.
As they got to the garage, his vehicle was standing at the front, waiting for him. He helped her into the passenger seat, stored her crutches in the backseat, and very soon they were on their way.
They were soon driving through the beautiful tree-lined driveway, and once again she was in awe of the beauty of the grounds. The home and the grounds beautifully complemented each other. She was so taken with the place that she was silent as she tried to figure out the man sitting in the driver seat next to her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he told her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just thinking of my returning to work. I have a colleague, Marcella, she’s a friend also, and I have to let her know I’m all right. She must be worried about me.”
“I thought you called your friend when you were getting out of the hospital yesterday.”
“I actually sent her a text message that I was all right, but if I don’t follow it up, she may begin to worry.”
So she dialed Marcella’s line and was relieved when she a
nswered the phone. She did not want to leave a message.
“Hey, girl, what’s going on with you? I was beginning to get really worried about you.”
“I’m okay. I injured my ankle, and I’m now in a cast. I have to be off of it for a few days.”
“How did you injure yourself?”
“I fell while running on the track.”
“You injured yourself on the track? How’s that possible?”
“Don’t know.”
“Are you going to sue OE? You should, you know.”
“No, I’m not going to sue anyone. It was my fault. There was nothing on the track. I tripped on my own foot. You know how sometimes you trip for no apparent reason? It was one of those freak accidents.”
“You poor thing, is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m staying with this friend I met on the track and living it up, ha ha ha. How are things at OE?”
“Same old, same old, nothing has changed.”
“Well, I’m depending on you to hold down the fort. I’ll call you again later.”
“Okay, Franchesca, take care of yourself, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Oh, by the way, is your friend you are staying with male or female?”
“Why?
“Just curious and a thought just occurred to me.”
“What thought?”
“While I’m here worrying about you, you are out there doing it.”
“You have a one-track mind, as usual. And no, I’m not out there ‘doing it,’ as you so delicately put it, but now that you mentioned it, maybe I will.”
“So it is a guy.”
“I plead the fifth and will talk with you soon. Bye.”
Franchesca turned off the phone, still laughing at Marcella’s silliness. She wondered what Marcella would think of Damon. She sneaked a glance at him, only to encounter his inquiring gaze.
“Shouldn’t you be keeping your eyes on the road?” she asked him, trying to avoid answering the question she saw in his face by the raised brow.
“I’m a very safe driver. You have nothing to worry about. But I’m curious about your friend. What did she say that caused you to turn so red?” He knew exactly what they were talking about from her responses, but he obviously knew when to play dumb.
“She was just being her silly self. She was happy to hear I’m being properly looked after.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Being properly looked after?”
“You know I am. I feel as if I’ve known you all my life. Not even my over-bearing family could’ve done a better job. I’m very appreciative.”
“It’s nothing. I believe fate had a hand in bringing us together, and I, for one, don’t believe in going against fate, especially when it comes in such a beautiful package.”
“Will you please keep your eyes on the road before you cause us to have an accident?”
“No, I won’t, and we are here.”
“We are here … where?” she asked, looking around. “Oh, you took us to the Promenade des Anglais.”
“Yes, come, we’ll take a short stroll along Promenade des Anglais and then settle for some refreshments at one of the cafes, or would you prefer a walk by the water?”
“A walk on the promenade is fine. I believe I’ll do better on the hard surface with the crutches than trying to negotiate them in the sand.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Use me, please.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone so willing to be used,” she said with a brief laugh.
They had a fine time along the concourse playing at being tourists as they strolled along, and when using the crutches got to be too much for her, they sat in the famous blue chairs that lined the beach while they listened to the waves and watched the world pass by. She loved the water, but she was in no shape to venture any closer than the beach. It was an idyllic afternoon, but soon it was time to make the return trip back.
The drive back was uneventful. She was occupied with her thoughts, and she suspected Damon was also because he hardly said anything. Very soon they were approaching the tree-lined driveway with the beautiful cherry trees. She couldn’t shake the feeling, silly as it seemed that she was returning home.
“I know it’s silly, Damon, but this feels like coming home.”
“I don’t think it’s silly. The heart knows what it knows.”
“No, I believe the saying is, the heart wants what the heart wants.”
“I am well aware, but I don’t want to be presumptuous.”
“Presumptuous?” she queried.
“Yes, presumptuous. I don’t want to take anything for granted, but I live in hope.”
“Will you please stop speaking in riddles, Damon? I’m not good at solving them.”
“My apology, Franchesca, I didn’t mean to sound confusing. I hope it will become clearer in time.”
“I hope so too. Thank you, Damon, for a wonderful afternoon.”
“The pleasure was mine.”
They had arrived at the front of the house where the same young man was waiting to garage the vehicle. Damon came over to the passenger side after he’d switched off the engine. She was prepared to hobble on her crutches, as she had done on the Promenade des Anglais, but Damon had other plans. He refused to let her walk. He lifted her into his arms and brought her into the house as he’d done the first time.
“I told you I could walk, Damon,” she told him, for want of something better to say. If she was honest, she would have to admit she loved being held against his body.
“I needed to hold you,” he said simply.
*****
Damon was not trying to fight the way he felt about Franchesca, and he couldn’t help thinking how she always said she was willing to walk, but the way she settled against him, her body all pliant and soft, belied her statement.
His senses were assailed with her unique scent, clean fresh, almost citrusy. He’d noticed this before; she didn’t wear any scent. It was always all Franchesca, nothing artificial. He liked that. The contact with her body lit a fire in him as he watched, riveted, as her tongue came out to moisten her lips. She caught him watching her, and she fastened her gaze on his mouth, staring at him with a look of undisguised lust in her eyes that was doing all sorts of things to him.
He was all but running through the house to get her to her room. He needed to get her in private; otherwise, he’d have her naked and have his way with her in the hall, in plain sight of his staff. And he most certainly did not want that.
“Franchesca,” he said as he felt her wiggle in his arms. “Stay still. You are making this difficult for me.”
“Yeah, how?” she asked.
She reached up and ran her finger against his lips, and that did it. With a groan, he raised her higher against his body as he admitted, “Franchesca, if I kiss you now, I may not be able to stop at just kissing.”
“Who said anything about just kissing?” she told him as she reversed her finger against his mouth.
“I wanted to wait. No, I needed to.” But with an expletive, he took her waiting mouth in a kiss charged with all the pent-up hunger he’d been trying so hard to keep in check.
Her mouth tasted of honey as he devoured her, filling his senses. The combination of her citrus scent and honeyed mouth, sent him into a frenzy, and he completely forgot he was standing in the hallway outside her room. Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching brought him back to his senses enough for him to open her door, and he walked in with her still cradled against his body. Slamming the door, he took her over to the bed and placed her on top of the spread as he followed her down, being careful not to jolt her injured foot.
Franchesca’s hands were everywhere, the fullness of her breasts against his chest pure agony as she arched her back off the bed to get closer to him. She made a sound of frustration as she tried to reach for him. He was trying not to crush her, supporting his weight on his arms. She was having none of it. He
r hands were busy trying to divest him of his clothes.
To hell with waiting, he thought as he swept his tongue into her mouth and engaged her in a deeply erotic dance. He reached down between their bodies and moved his hand against her heated skin. His questing fingers reached for the weight of her breast as he ground his hips into hers.
“By the saints, you feel so wonderful,” he ground out.
“Do you want me?” she asked breathlessly.
“By the saints, darling, don’t tease me. I’m not in complete control, as it is. I w—”
His words were interrupted by the knocking on the door. And just like a hard dose of reality, it hit him, causing him to freeze in place. After a moment he became aware of what he’d been about to do. He looked down at her, not able to bring himself to get off her, and just then another knock sounded. Swearing under his breath, Damon went to the door and pulled it open with all the pent-up energy riding him.
He was shocked to see Mrs. Flavene standing there with a note in her hand. She looked decidedly apologetic, but he was in too much of a lust fog to pay her any mind.
“What is it?” he almost barked at the poor woman.
She handed him the envelope and turned around to leave.
“Wait, I’m sorry, Mrs. Flavene, who brought this?”
“It was brought by special messenger, who said it was urgent. I gave him a tip, and he is gone.”
Damon stood there for a minute, staring down at the envelope. He knew that handwriting, but he had no intention of dealing with whatever it contained now. So folding it, he put it in his pocket. He went back to Franchesca, but the moment had passed.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at him strangely. This made him feel like a worm because he had to cut it short and walk away. The fates were not willing to have them take this to the next level.
He couldn’t remain in the room one moment longer. It hurt just looking at her. She was without a doubt the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Her eyes were all slumberous, her lips slightly parted, and God, how he wanted to reach for her again. His entire body clenched with desire, need riding him low and hard, turning him into a seething mass of need.