“Good, then you’ll be able to keep yourself entertained while I sleep during the day. I have an apartment on Boulevard du Montparnasse, which is close to the metro, in case you’d prefer to use mass transit. You do read and speak French?”
“I do, actually, and I love the idea of using the metro. How long will we be staying?”
“A few days. I thought we’d look in on the club while we’re there. Introduce you to the manager, have you assess the security.”
“Ah, mixing business and pleasure.”
“As long as we’re going to be there. But the first couple of days are just for us. Business after pleasure, pet.”
The jet was cleared for takeoff and they were soon in the air. The steward poured glasses of champagne and served them a fruit and cheese tray. Olivia peered out the window to watch the sun begin to lighten the horizon. She looked at Noah.
“Yes, it’s time for me to retire. There’s a master suite aft. Would you care to sleep with me?”
She took the hand he offered, and he pulled her to her feet. “I meant what I said earlier. I love you, Olivia.”
She squeezed his hand and followed him into the sumptuous stateroom. They undressed and slid beneath sheets fit for royalty, and it occurred to her that she’d never really slept with a man before. Not all night. Her habit, through the years, was sex at her partner’s place, then back to her apartment, no matter the time. It was an odd feeling to know she would be sharing this man’s bed for the next few days, but not entirely unpleasant. She turned on her side to kiss him and found he was already deeply asleep.
The McDonald-Douglas MD-87 jet touched down in Paris shortly after five o’clock in the evening. A limousine was waiting, and they were whisked away to Noah’s apartment in Montparnasse. It was a classic Parisian apartment in the Haussmannian style so popular in the nineteenth century. Opulent was but one word that came to Olivia’s mind when Noah unlocked the heavy, oak doors and ushered her inside.
“Oh, my, it’s lovely,” she said, smiling. “Do you spend much time here?”
“Unfortunately, no, although I am always happy to be here when business arises.”
She looked around at the buttercream walls, the extensive crown molding, and beautiful French doors leading to various rooms, and sighed happily. “If I had a place like this, I’d never leave.”
He cocked his head. “Would you like to live in Paris? We don’t have to stay in New Orleans, you know. Ian can see to our interests there. I can run my business from any number of locations.”
“Someday, maybe. I’m—”
He shrugged negligently. “Food for thought, pet. No pressure.”
Right. He was bringing plenty of pressure to the table and she didn’t know whether to be thrilled by his aggressive pursuit, or whether to run as far and as fast as she could. They’d begun this affair so quickly that her head was still spinning from the effects. How could he possibly love her after such a short period of time? And yet he did. She felt it in every touch, every gesture, every soft word. Even when he was dominating her sexually, taking her to heights she’d never before known, she could sense the intensity of his feelings for her. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once.
“Have a look around while I make a few phone calls,” he said to her. “We need to get you some clothes, and the better shops have closed for the night. My friend Antoine will open his boutique for you, so we can pick up a few things you’ll need.”
“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” she said, then looked down at her wrinkled silk dress. “But I suppose this thing is looking a bit disreputable.” She wandered off to let him make his calls.
The pale yellow walls carried throughout the apartment and were an elegant contrast to the salmon-pink and crème silk drapes that hung from the ceiling to floor windows that overlooked Boulevard du Montparnasse. The furnishings were stylish, yet simple. There were several fireplaces in the apartment, each with an antique, carved mantelpiece. The library was the only really masculine room, furnished in comfortable leather and wood, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases along one wall. All in all, it was an exquisite apartment and she could see herself living here with Noah, happily exploring every nook and cranny of Paris. Good Lord, he was getting to her!
She had just wandered into the luxurious master suite when Noah appeared beside her. She uttered a startled yelp. “My God, you’re quiet as a church mouse! How do you manage to make no noise when you walk around a nineteenth-century apartment with parquet floors?”
Noah chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Antoine is happy to open the shop for us. Come along, let’s get you properly attired, and then we’ll go for a walk along the Seine. We can stop for a glass of wine and some food at one of the cafes.” He draped her pashmina around her shoulders. “The sun is going down and spring evenings can be quite chilly.”
* * * *
The boutique was simply called Gigi, and carried a variety of designer clothes. Antoine, gracious to a fault, walked around her, studying her for several long moments, then hurried around the store to gather several outfits he thought would suit.
She fell in love with a Gaultier knit dress in a luxurious virgin wool. Antoine declared it brought out the deep purple color of her eyes. Cut on the bias, it boasted a twenty-three-inch side slit trimmed in fringe, with a cowl neck and a long, attached scarf that hung down the side. Because it was long sleeved, she could wear it in the cool Paris evening and be comfortably warm. At a little over seven hundred dollars, Olivia was scandalized at the price, but Noah didn’t bat an eye, insisting they purchase it, along with a pair of lace-up ankle boots in black patent leather, and a black, jersey-crepe wrap mini-dress with a fringed hem, and a pair of black tights.
A Dolce and Gabbana top, two pair of Rich and Skinny jeans, a sexy silk top by Roberto Cavalli completed their purchases. Olivia felt uncomfortable. Not that Noah’s purchases weren’t fabulous, because they were, but she just felt like a high priced mistress accepting them.
She was wearing the purple Gaultier when they left the shop. Antoine would leave the rest of their purchases with Noah’s doorman on his way home. “I’m going to reimburse you for every penny you spent in that store,” she groused, stepping onto the sidewalk.
Noah laughed and tugged on her hand weaving through the early evening crowd. “You’ll do no such thing, kitten. It was my pleasure to buy those things for you, and in the next day or so, we’ll be going to the heart of the fashion district where I intend to spoil you shamelessly.”
“I . . . you . . . most certainly will not! I am not some . . . some . . . courtesan you can shower with gifts and screw any time you want!”
“That does it,” Noah growled. He dragged her through a crowd of young, hip Parisians and into a cobbled alleyway. “When have I ever treated you like a whore?” He pulled her along the rutted pathway until they rounded the back of a building with a low stone wall that led to a basement of some kind.
She’d never seen him angry before, and his eyes glinted red in the gloom of the alley. He spun her around, and yanked her dress up around her waist, she felt her pussy clench.
“I’ll show you how a man takes a common whore,” he snarled.
* * * *
Oh, Jesus, he was going to fuck her right here in the open! She should be pissed off at his rough handling of her, but instead, she was intensely aroused at the idea of being taken. He bent her over the wall, yanked her panties down to her ankles, and then freed his cock from the confines of his jeans.
His fingers were rough between her thighs, and she heard him groan. “Jesus, woman, you’re soaking wet.” He entered her with a single deep lunge, burying his cock balls deep. One hand found her breast and squeezed while he rode her hard and fast.
Oh, goddamn, she was going to come! “Yes!” she hissed. “Fuck me. Oh, God, Noah, what you do to me—”
“That’s right,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “I make you feel this way.” He brushed the hair from her
neck, nibbling and licking, scraping his fangs across the delicate flesh. “That’s the difference between you and a whore. Your feelings for me.”
Jesus! Heat poured from her pussy, coating her thighs while he continued to fuck her—hard. She was so close, so close! But she needed more, something else, something deeper and hotter. Something indefinable.
“Please, oh, please,” she begged.
“You have no idea what I could do to you, pet, if I fed from you.” He withdrew, leaving her just the head of his cock. He pressed his mouth to her ear, and he tugged the lobe with his teeth. “You’d come so hard, you’d think your body was about to fly apart. And it would be like that every time I fed.”
Olivia moaned when he sunk his cock into her, slowly and completely, and then pulled out again. “I’d penetrate you with my cock and my teeth, and you’d scream with the intensity of the orgasm I gave you.”
“Oh, God. Do it! Do it now!” she begged.
He drew back and lunged into her once more, then pulled out completely, leaving her panting and wet. “No. Not like this, not in some back alley.” He leaned down and pulled her panties into place, then set her dress to rights.
“What? You’re kidding, right? You’re not going to leave me like this!”
He took her hand and led her back up the alley. “Oh, but I am, pet. And there’ll be no more talk about whoring or paying me back for the gifts I choose to give you.” He laughed seductively. “Now, come along, I find I’m hungry for the rump steak at La Coupole.”
“Rump steak?” she shrieked. “Is that your idea of a joke?”
He laughed aloud and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Hush. We’ll finish what we started later, in my bed, not in some back alley.”
“You’re a shit, you know that, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard it said a time or two.” He found a table on the sidewalk and seated her. “Now, what would you like to eat?”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down until they were face to face. “Order me whatever you please,” she said. “I’ll have what I really want to eat when we get back to your place.” She inhaled sharply at his narrowed eyes glowing red in the darkening sky. He wasn’t the only one who knew his way around a sexual taunt.
His lips covered hers in a devouring kiss that left her breathless. “Careful, love. You might wind up with more than you can handle.”
“You don’t scare me, Noah Lazarus,” she said against his kiss-swollen lips. “Not even a little.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “God, I adore you.”
Olivia watched, eyes narrowed, when Noah came back from placing their order with a tall, slender woman draped on him. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but she recognized her. Some famous Parisian supermodel, the skinny bitch. Never having experienced jealousy before, she didn’t recognize the emotion at first. She was, by turns, amazed and pissed off. Amazed she was capable of such an emotion, and pissed off that the woman continued to hang on Noah even after he reached the table and began introductions.
“Olivia, meet Marguerite Orfevre.”
He attempted to disentangle himself from the grasping female, but she held on, giving Olivia a smug smile. “Bonjour, Olivia. I am pleased to meet you. Any friend of Noah’s is a friend of mine.”
Olivia clenched her teeth in a parody of a smile. “How nice.”
Marguerite turned to Noah. “Darling, would you please get me a glass of wine?” She glanced at Olivia, then back at him. “You know what I like.”
He gave Olivia a helpless look, but took the opportunity to escape the super model. “Of course, my dear.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss next to Olivia’s ear. “Behave yourself.”
She laughed softly. “Don’t count on it, darling.” She could have sworn she heard him groan when he straightened and hurried away. She gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
The model sank gracefully to the chair beside her. “So how do you know, Noah?”
“I’m head of security for his clubs.”
“Ah, so you’re here for business, then.” It was spoken smugly, with the assurance of a beautiful woman who was certain the man of her choosing would leave with her.
Olivia took a great deal of enjoyment in bursting that bubble. “Actually, this is a pleasure trip, but I do plan to look in on the Paris operation while we’re here.”
Marguerite frowned. “So, what are you to him, one of his volunteers?”
“Volunteers?”
“One of the women who volunteer to let him feed.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “No, actually, we’re lovers.”
The woman gave a delicate snort. “Noah Lazarus doesn’t take lovers, darling.”
Olivia leaned closer to her and whispered to her. “Oh, but he does, darling. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your bony body off my man.”
Marguerite gave her a startled look. “Did you just threaten me?”
Olivia gave her an innocent look. “Me? Never!” She looked up, smiling when Noah returned to the table with the supermodel’s wine.
He walked around the other side of the table, avoiding Marguerite’s grasp, and sat down beside Olivia. “Everything all right, kitten?”
“Couldn’t be better. We were just chatting about your volunteers. How many are there, exactly?”
Noah groaned and looked at Marguerite. “Must you always be so spiteful, Marg?”
The French beauty picked up her wine glass and rose to her full height. “I won’t sit here and be scolded by you, Noah. Why wouldn’t I assume she was a volunteer? You usually buy them dinner to replenish them. It’s not as if she’s one the beauties you usually squire about.”
Olivia flinched as though she’d been slapped.
“Oh, I beg to differ, Marguerite. I happen to think she’s very beautiful, and I intend to marry her once I finally convince her she loves me as much as I do her.” He drew Olivia into the curve of his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, our dinner will be here any moment.”
Olivia gaped at the gorgeous fashion icon stalking away. “I can’t believe you would choose someone like me over her. She’s gorgeous.”
Noah shook his head. “What part of I love you do you not understand? I don’t want any other woman. And just so you know, you’re gorgeous, too.” He looked up when the waiter approached with their dinner. “Ah, our food is here.” He nodded at the waiter. “Merci.”
The man merely looked down his nose at Noah, set their food and wine on the table, and walked away.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Well, I suppose there’s comfort in knowing some things never change. French waiters are still astonishingly rude.”
Noah chuckled. “Yes, they are. Now, stop talking and eat your dinner. I want to walk along the Left Bank with you, holding your hand all the way home.”
Chapter Eight
During their stroll hand in hand along the Seine, they stopped several times either to chat with acquaintances of Noah’s or to enjoy a particularly beautiful view of the river and the number of stone bridges crossing her. For the first time, Olivia actually got to enjoy the ambience of Paris after dark, and she sighed when Noah led her away from the river and back toward his apartment building. “It’s so lovely, I hate to leave.”
“We can come back tomorrow night if you’d like.” He pulled her into his arms under the soft glow of an old street lamp and kissed her. “Right now, I’m of a mind to finish what we started in that alleyway.”
Olivia shivered, remembering the power of his body driving into hers and the need she’d felt for something more, something deeper and more satisfying than just his cock. “Yes,” she murmured against his lips. “Let’s do that.”
The urgency she felt overwhelmed her, and she struggled to maintain the romantic atmosphere of the evening. She slid an arm around Noah’s waist, snuggling into the nook of his shoulder. Their boot heels rang off centuries-old cobblestones. They ducked into a side street short
cut. Her pulse quickened when his building came into sight.
“Hurry,” she said, breathlessly, then laughed while he dragged her across the nearly deserted street and into the building’s lobby. They paused long enough to retrieve her packages from the doorman, then hurried to the elevator.
“Kiss me,” Olivia demanded after the elevator door slid shut behind them.
He pressed the button for the third floor, then pushed her against the wall of the car, kissing her hungrily. The bell sounded and the elevator door slid open. “Prepare to be ravaged,” Noah warned her. “I could feel your excitement all the way home. I’m not sure I can hold back.”
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