by Tina DeSalvo
She was his prey.
Only she didn’t have the fear of the hunted as she walked back to the bed, on the very edge near the head. So why had she moved as far away from him as possible, she wondered as her palm sank into the one of the four white, down king pillows at the head of the bed. It was soft, comfy, perfect for a long night of sleep after exhausting sensual play. She blushed at having the thought, but she also felt oddly safe having it. Sexual contemplations never, ever, felt safe before. Not because of the sex itself, but because of how it made her afraid that she had these thoughts because she was more like her mother than she ever wanted to be.
She looked at Beau, still watching her from across the room, his eyes dark, his hot expression unchanged. Could she really just be herself, explore her sexuality with a man who she felt safe with and not be like her mother? Of course she could. Her studies in human behavior taught her that, but she’d never related it to herself…until now. She’d never really wanted to.
Jewell tamped down what little nervousness she felt. She closed her eyes and just allowed her body and mind to slide into the sensual feelings of the moment. She had no experience with seduction, but when she looked at Beau, saw his dark, aroused, hungry look, she knew she didn’t need it. She slid her fingers lightly, slowly…over the white duvet covering the bed and the dark gray chenille throw tossed without a care on top of it. He looked down at her hand, sucked in his breath, then glanced at her bare feet.
Hmm, maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t the hunted prey.
He was.
That felt like power to her.
Jewell rested her hands on her lap for a moment, not sure what to do next. She closed her eyes, relaxed her shoulders and her mind, and just let herself exist in the room. She felt the cool air from the whir of the huge no-frills fan above her. She felt the shift of the fabric of her dress brush against her skin as she took in each breath. Her hands went up to her buttons at the waist of her dress. There were no thoughts or plans of sequence. She simply did what she felt like doing. It was liberating.
She opened her eyes when she heard Beau breathing harder. His eyes were on her hands. His lips parted. This seduction, this hunting, was intoxicating.
Arousing.
Emboldened by his reaction and her fearlessness, she moved her hands up to the top buttons near her breasts. They were already undone. She didn’t have a bra on. It still remained on the side of the road where Beau had inadvertently tossed it out of the window. Jewell would remind him that she was there without a bra. She let her hands slide over her breasts. Her nipples hardened.
Beau didn’t move from the wall. He just leaned and watched and breathed heavier and heavier. She shifted a little, feeling need and desire build between her legs; then she released her braid, shook out her hair, and let it fall down her back.
She thought she heard him groan, but she wasn’t sure. He remained where he was. She reached for the top button that held her dress together. It was low, the swell of her breasts showing, her heavy breath making them rise and tease him even more. She released the first button, then the next one. And the next. She let the top material fall open until her left breast was exposed, with just a hint of her aroused nipple showing.
She slid her hand into the top of her dress. Touched her nipple with one hand and slid her other between her legs on top of the dress. Who is this woman doing this? The thought slipped through her desire, threatened to stop this new exploration of her awakened sexuality. She closed her eyes again. No. She let her head fall back. Not tonight. Not now. She may never have another chance where she felt safe, desired and where she desired in turn.
The bed shifted. Jewell felt Beau’s heat over her before she looked up and saw him staring at her with his catlike green eyes. His warm breath brushed across the exposed flesh of her neck as he moved closer to her, supporting his weight on his hands, placed on either side of her shoulders.
His mouth was on her, gently, slowly and erotically. His teeth scraped along the long line of her neck. The stubble from his chin roused her sensitive skin. His mouth sealed over her nipple. His groan vibrated over her breast. Need, hot and instant, consumed her. She fell back onto the bed, sucking for air, grabbing his head with her hands, holding him tighter against her.
“Oh, chère.” He groaned again, shifting to kneel between her legs. “I want you.”
She lifted for him, dragging his head to her mouth. He grabbed the bottom of her dress, clumsily, but he lifted it up, and she raised her arms up overhead to help him. She was naked now, except for her lacy thong.
He got off the bed, stood. Stepped back. Looked down at her with hooded eyes. He smiled. “Beautiful.” He slipped off his pants and boxers together and removed his shirt over his head. He stood before her, with a flat, six-pack abdomen, wide shoulders, narrow hips and totally aroused. He climbed on the bed next to her, hugging her naked body to his. The feeling of skin against skin was awakening. She moved to let her heated flesh slide against his.
He kissed her. His lips were gentle, careful, like a man who was handling precious, fragile glass. His fingers moved so lightly over her neck, down her chest, and over her breasts, she felt a whispered plea on her lips. “I want more.” Never had she felt such incredible need as she did now. She grabbed his biceps, felt his hard muscles tense beneath her firm grip. She rolled over on top of him, sitting astride. She looked down at him.
He didn’t move, held her hips in a tight grip. She could see by the straining cords in his neck that he wanted to take her then. But there was something controlled and tender in his expression. She wanted him to get out of his head, out of his own way, and be as lost in them as she was. She moved over him. He dug his fingers into her hips more tightly.
“You keep that up and I won’t have the willpower to go the distance.” He grinned. Flipping her over. He was on top of her. “You make me crazy.”
She smiled at him and he groaned. “Just that...just that damn smile, and I am so undone. What is your voodoo?”
She kissed him, her mouth and tongue as tender and caring as his as he taught her new sensual explorations, and she gave it back to him, and more. When she took his hand and placed it on her center, he groaned.
“I think we’re going to have to do this a lot, Boots. I’m not going to get you out of my system any time soon.”
He rolled onto his side on the bed, taking her with him, so she faced him, then he moved down her body, touching, kissing and exploring her curves. His fingers traced the outline of her small fleur-de-lis tattoo just above her thong and he smiled, looking pleased to see it. “Sexy,” he murmured, inching down her body with a trail of kisses until he reached the small flares of the design. She liked seeing his soft, peach lips and tongue slide over the blended blue, pink, and yellow colors of her tattoo. Her heart pounded harder. Dang. She really, really liked it. A lot.
His mouth found the top edge of the white lace of her thong along her hip. His fingers ran on the inside of it, following the narrow lace to her bottom and back. He groaned again, sliding her thong down and following the tiny strip of material over her legs with the scrape of his teeth, a bite, and then a tender kiss. She moved. Restless, anxious, and needy with each touch, each kiss. She rolled onto her back, felt the cool, smooth sheets on her skin. It was another sensual stroke, escalating her need. Desire. Wanting what her body was building toward. She looked in his eyes.
“Beau. I need you.”
He took a condom from the bedside dresser and quickly slid it on. He eased on top of her, and slowly slipped just a little bit inside of her. She sucked in a breath. Lifted her hips to him. Moved. “More.” He slid in a little more. “More.”
His face was straining, tight. So handsome. She lifted her hips higher, grabbed his firm buttocks and took him the rest of the way. “Is this what you want, chère?” he said, teeth clenched.
“Yes. Yes.”
“Me. Too. Oh...me too.”
They moved in rhythm, never taking th
eir eyes off of one another. The hunter and the prey…no longer.
“More,” she whispered.
“More will never be enough.”
He flipped her so she was on top. She moved, in a perfect dance of abandon and sensation with a fearlessness she didn’t know existed, until she cried out. Beau looked up at her and smiled, then found his release.
***
Beau held her in his arms. She was on his side of the bed, her leg tossed over him, her arm holding on to the arm securing her to his chest. Her pretty, narrow, bare feet with their surprisingly pale coral painted toenails were wedged between his calves, one on top and one on the bottom.
He’d never actually slept with a woman before. He’d tried it a couple of times, but within five minutes it was like crawling through piquantes or, as the English called them, cockleburs. Hmm. Not this time.
This felt pretty good.
Having this curvy yet lean woman wrapped around him like he was a Christmas present felt pretty damn good. His lids fluttered shut. “I’ll just rest my eyes a moment, Boots, before we leave.”
***
An hour later, Jewell’s alarm sounded on her phone, jarring him awake. “What the…?” Nancy barked a tired half bark from where she slept on a pillow near Beau’s head.
Jewell rested her arms on his chest and looked down at him. “Sorry. I should’ve warned you. I set the alarm to allow forty-five minutes to get back to Mimi no later than eleven, the time I told Ruby I’d be there in case dinner or our conversation ran long at the restaurant.” She shrugged again, lifting her brows and smiling a silly smile. “Never planned on this.”
“I like your spontaneity. A lot.” He thought of her seducing him on his bed. He would never walk into his room without thinking of her lying here, with her hair like silk ribbons fanned out on the pillow and her dress fallen open to reveal her full, round breasts and dark nipples.
She laughed. “Spontaneous? Not usually.” She shook her head, rubbed the back of her neck, and lifted her shoulders. “Being the caregiver of a very tenacious and demanding old lady while running a business doesn’t typically allow for it.” She tried to get up again, but he held her. “I have to go, Beau. I’ll just take Tante Izzy’s truck, and you can go back to sleep. If I remember correctly from your conversation with your insurance agent, your rental should be here in the morning, right?”
She kissed him tenderly on his bruised eye and touched it lightly.
“I’m sorry you were hurt.” She held the duvet to her chest and sat up. He pulled her back on top of him.
“You’re not getting away that easy, Boots.” He patted her on her bare bottom, liked the warm, smooth feel of it beneath his hand. He was instantly aroused. By the way her eyes widened, he knew she noticed.
She made a funny face at Nancy, who was staring at her from her comfy pillow. She scratched her under the chin and the pup placed her paw on top of Jewell’s hand for her not to stop. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”
“I’d like to think so,” he teased, earning him a gentle tug of his hair.
“Funny boy.” She smiled, tilted her head, right, then left. Did her neck hurt? She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “I really do have to go.” She shrugged, her hair cascading over her shoulders. He reached up and brushed it back off her face.
“I don’t want you to go just yet, Jewell,” he told her and immediately regretted that he did. Saying he wanted her and needed her in the throes of heated lovemaking was a slip he could explain away, but saying it now in the calm after the sensual storm was another thing. It wasn’t a good position for the family advocate to have with a woman he still wasn’t sure wasn’t trying to scam them.
Oh, hell.
She smiled at him, clearly liking what he’d said about not wanting her to leave. Then she kissed him gently on both of his cheeks.
“That’s really sweet, Boots.”
“I like when you call me Jewell or even chère.”
He blew out a breath. “Chère, Jewell,” he murmured. Who was he kidding? He was actually sure that she wasn’t scamming the family. She’d been fair and inclusive in sharing the information of her investigation of Twinnie. And Mignon clearly wasn’t the fraud he thought she might be. She really was a sweet old lady who was suffering from advanced dementia. Jewell had had plenty of opportunities to push Mignon as Martine, but she hadn’t. Sure, she’d brought it up as a possibility, but she never tried to close the argument on that idea.
No, Jewell wasn’t running a scam. He’d actually come to that conclusion before she’d knocked the wind out of him with the best sex of his life.
Still, he needed proof. Just because his gut and heart said Jewell had absolutely no ill intent toward his family, it wasn’t fair for him to move forward making that assumption for everyone. He couldn’t expose them in that way. It wasn’t what their advocate should do. He needed proof to verify his sexual desire wasn’t skewing his decision-making ability. He needed to help her prove her innocence of the criminal felony charges, and he needed to help her prove or disprove that Mignon was Martine.
“We have time for a shower,” he said, making circles with his finger on her shoulder, thinking of how much he wanted to really help her now. “Sugar Mill is only about ten minutes, door to door, from here.”
“I’ll go first,” she said, sliding to the edge of bed with the duvet, hiding her body. This time, he didn’t stop her. He was looking forward to watching her walk to the bathroom without a stitch of clothes on.
She had other thoughts, though. Still covered mostly with the duvet, she retrieved the throw that had fallen on the floor and tossed it over her shoulders like a long shawl. He was out of the bed, standing in front of her in two seconds flat.
“You know how to break a man’s heart, Boots.” He grabbed the ends of the throw and pulled her toward him.
“What?” she looked at him, her expression one of total confusion.
“No need to hide that delicious body from me, chère.” He smiled, enjoying the play of the lamplight on her disheveled hair that was half tucked under the throw. “I plan to join you in the shower and run my soapy hands over every inch of you. I’m going to massage that tender neck of yours, too.” Her eyes widened. “Yes, I can see it hurts you.”
Then she bit her bottom lip and smiled. “I guess that might be okay.”
“I intend to have a nice look at the little fleur-de-lis tattoo your Mimi doesn’t know about, too.” He grinned playfully. “And if you don’t behave yourself, I just might tell her about it.”
“Don’t you dare.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “I think I can find many ways to make you suffer for that devious deed, Mr. Beauregard.” She stepped away from him. Walked toward the bathroom door. Without missing a step, she looked over her shoulder and let the throw drop to the floor.
“Oh, I sure as hell hope you do.”
As he followed her to the shower, something he couldn’t identify felt like it grabbed him by the throat and pulled him away. He turned to the Emile and François painting.
He had to look at it. He had to look at it now.
There it was. He'd never noticed before. Standing off to the side behind the younger Aguste stood a slender woman, holding the hands of two young girls. They had the same golden blonde hair and exact same sky blue dresses and black ankle boots. They also looked to be exactly the same age.
Lord, could it be? Was this Jewell's grandmother and her Twinnie? Had proof of her grandmother's claim been hanging in his house all this time?
Beau and Jewell shined their flashlights toward the tall wheat-colored grass that lined the side of the drive. Nancy happily bounced around, chasing the light beams.
“Are you sure this is where we parked?” she asked, kicking at the grass to get a closer look. Beau moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her on the side of the neck.
“Mmm. You smell like my shampoo and you.” He grinned. “I like it. I like it a lot. And
to think I thought it was the bug repellent that was drawing me in like a Venus flytrap!”
She turned in his arms, ran her hands through his still damp hair and kissed him. Her body tingled from head to toe, as it had the first time their lips met tonight.
He squeezed her bottom and then patted it, before breaking the kiss. They didn’t move away from one another, though, remaining in each other's arms, as if they were each afraid that this magic would be gone if they did.
“Do you ever ride a bike with a wire basket on it to carry your papers to work, Beau?” His smile made his eyes crinkle in the corner. “Or do you wear glasses with duct tape on them because you can’t take the time to get them fixed?”
Her ideal man. So she’d always thought.
He threw his head back and laughed. “What do you think?”
“Nope,” she smiled. “Definitely not your style.”
“Why do you ask such a silly thing?” He kissed the tip of her nose and resumed his search. She shrugged. “Is it because that’s the type of guy you’ve been attracted to?” He moved closer to her and ran his hands down her arms. Her body tingled with his gentle touch. “And now you’re attracted to a stud like me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Who said you’re a stud, and who said I’m attracted to you?”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. She wet her lips, anticipating his kiss. “Oh, you like me.”
“It seems as if you’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me.”
He ran his fingers lightly down her spine. “Guilty as charged.”
She liked being desired. She just wouldn’t let herself be fooled into thinking it was anything more than a physical attraction between them. He was a good man. He was also an honest, sensitive, ambitious, intelligent man who cared for his family. She just wasn’t sure he really cared for her. That knowledge hurt when it shouldn’t. She’d gone to him with her eyes wide open, knowing their attraction was strong. Knowing she might be in jail next week or that he might tire of her before then.