by Nalini Singh
It was only when her handwriting blurred in front of her that she realized she was crying. Without warning, the wrenching, never-forgotten pain of losing her parents shattered her composure, leaving her lost and broken.
Too young to have strong memories, she still remembered emotions and fragments of time. Her father’s deep laughter, the sunshine on her face as she ran outside, her mother’s gentle hand on her head. And love. Deep, warm love that had made her feel safe.
She’d never forgotten that feeling, never been able to, because after their “adoption” by Spencer, there’d been no more parental love. Walker had done his best, but she’d missed her mother so much. That feeling had only intensified as she’d grown into a young woman. And by then, she hadn’t even had Walker to talk to—her beloved brother had already belonged to Spencer.
Sobbing, she felt loneliness settle over her like a heavy cloak. Only days ago, she would’ve borne the burden in silence, but tonight her heart rebelled. Hands trembling, she picked up the phone.
“Alexandre?” she said, when he answered sounding half-asleep.
“Ma petite? What is wrong?” His voice was suddenly wide-awake, colored by concern.
“I just ordered copies of my parents’ death certificates.” She wiped away her tears.
“Would you like me to come to your cottage?”
“I woke you up.” She shoved a hand through her hair, wondering what she was doing. “I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry for contacting me if you need me.” Before she could bristle, he added, “It’s very nice to be needed by a woman fully capable of relying on herself.”
“Charmer.” Her tears had abated but she still hurt deep inside.
“I’ll be there soon. Don’t cry in my absence—I won’t be pleased.”
Half-smiling at that last order, she hung up and headed into the kitchen to make coffee. Alexandre arrived just as it finished perking. He took one look at her face and enfolded her into his strong arms, kicking the door shut behind him. His chin settled on the top of her head as she buried her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
“You’ve been crying,” he accused, as if she’d done something unforgivable.
“I do that sometimes,” she said, trying to tease him.
“I don’t like it when you cry. You will promise not to do it.”
She smiled at the roughly uttered command. “Are you one of those men who crumbles at the first sign of tears?”
“Non. It is only your tears that make me so weak. So you must take pity on me.”
“I made coffee,” she whispered.
“I’m going to hold you first.”
She made no protest. Until this man, she hadn’t understood the joy of a simple embrace. Something in her melted and she knew the sensation was only going to continue the longer she stayed in Alexandre’s arms.
It was a feeling she didn’t want to fight. Her fears against becoming intimately involved with him faded to nothing, as she realized that time wouldn’t change what she felt for him. The longer she waited, the less time she’d have with him…and she ached for every moment.
She couldn’t have said how long he held her, stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear. But, when they finally separated, she felt at peace with herself. Not only had he soothed her hurt, his tenderness had given her the courage to make the decision she’d been fighting against since the first moment she’d seen him.
“You’re an extraordinary man,” she said, reaching up to stroke the hard line of his jaw.
Caught by the shine in her dark eyes, Alexandre shook his head. “I’m no knight in shining armor. I wish I could be for you.”
Her smile was soft. “I know a knight when I see one. Even if he thinks his armor is rusty.”
He began to play with a strand of her midnight hair. “What if I told you my birth makes me a bastard, not a knight?” The deep need to know whether she’d accept the man he was overcame his long held habit of not allowing anyone too close. Especially not a woman.
“Alexandre Dupree, how can you be primitive enough to think that a man’s birth determines who he is?” She scowled. “If you’re a bastard, then I’m a half-breed.”
Anger flared. He caught her chin in strong fingers. “Don’t ever use those words to describe yourself again.”
Her eyes widened but there was no fear in them, only trust so powerful, it shook him. “If you promise to do the same.”
“You are a tough negotiator.” He sealed their bargain with a kiss that edged on being blatantly territorial. “You’re also a beautiful, unique woman—the product of a union between two people who loved each other enough to not care about difference. You should be proud.”
“I wouldn’t dare to be otherwise now.” Her smile was luminous. “Will you tell me about your parents?”
“I think we should talk about yours today. Mine can wait.” He thought she’d berate him for backing away from the personal subject, but she just shook her head at him.
“I’d like to keep my ordering of the certificates between us…until we know for sure.”
“You can trust me, chérie. I’ve had a lifetime of keeping secrets.”
Charlotte looked up, caught by the cynicism in that last sentence. Though Alexandre was a man of the world, sophisticated as they came, he’d never before struck her as cynical. “Are you going to tell me what you mean by that?”
His lips curved in a small smile, but there was a bruised kind of pain in those bitter-chocolate eyes. “Perhaps one day.”
Instead of annoyance at his reserve, she felt a strange stab of tenderness for this man who seemed so far beyond those things. “Come here.” She smiled an invitation, though she was already in his arms.
Surprise chased the pain from his beautiful eyes. “I’m at your service.”
When he firmed his embrace, she raised her arms and put them around his neck. Her heart was thudding like a mad thing and she was sure her cheeks were bright red.
Before Alexandre, she’d never let men close enough to make any moves, unable to let her guard down. With this man, she’d been letting him make all the moves, but right now, she had the feeling he needed her to take the lead.
She’d called him because she’d ached to be held, but now that her need had been fulfilled, she wanted to fulfill his. This beautiful, sensual man needed tender care just as much as she did. How she knew, she couldn’t say. She just did.
A delighted smile curved over his lips and spread to his eyes. “What is this, ma petite?” Leaning down, he met her halfway when she rose on tiptoe.
“I’d like to kiss you,” she whispered, voice lost to the passion racing through her bloodstream.
“I’ll never say non to your kiss.” His arms firmed around her, tensile steel under skin gilded by the sun.
Holding herself up by her arms around his neck, she reached up and bridged the breath separating them. His lips were a brush against hers, warm and welcoming. Heart beating so hard she was afraid it would pop out of her chest, she pressed just a tiny bit harder and slanted hers at the angle she liked.
He shuddered.
Something hotly feminine in her stretched awake. Taking another chance, another step, she flicked her tongue along his lower lip. His arms locked tight, and he crushed her against him, making no effort to hide his arousal. This time, it was Charlotte who shuddered, shocked at the heat that sparked to life inside of her, as if her desire were feeding on his.
Opening her mouth, she swept her tongue along his lower lip before suckling it into her mouth. She felt a groan rumble in his chest. Then his lips pressed hard against hers, a silent order for her to stop teasing him and fully open her mouth. She almost smiled at his inability to give up control. Almost. But she was burning up inside and the only thing she wanted was to do exactly as he asked.
Her sigh as she surrendered was a final temptation, a testing of her newfound power. His reaction sent sizzling heat rocketing through her. His body seemed to
go impossibly steely, so taut and hard that she felt deliciously female next to his inescapable masculinity.
As she’d come to expect, to delight in, his hand rose up her back to clench in her hair, tilting her head. In response, she pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around him even more tightly.
Her reward was a kiss so scorching, her knees crumpled. Only Alexandre’s uncompromising embrace kept her upright, the arm around her waist solid with muscle, his palm curled around the curve of her waist. With a moan, she buried her fingers in his hair and abandoned her senses to him.
Alexandre was drowning in the feel of Charlotte. It was the first time she’d ever initiated a kiss and that would’ve been enough for him. But she’d given him so much more, a surrender of the senses that betrayed how much she trusted him to lead this dance.
It was clear she was relying on him to stop despite their bodies’ demands for completion, because Charlotte wasn’t a woman who took lovemaking lightly. And he wasn’t a man who’d be satisfied with anything less than her total involvement in any intimacy. Taking a final taste of her, he ended the kiss.
Long, dark lashes lifted. Passion-clouded eyes met his. “Alexandre.” It was a husky invitation. “Why did you stop?” Reaching with her body, she claimed his lips again.
He shuddered under the caress and firmed his muscles, allowing her to steal yet another kiss before pulling away, though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “You tempt a man past all reason.”
She nuzzled his neck and planted a row of kisses along his jaw. “I love the way your jaw feels.” Running her teeth along it, she nipped gently.
Alexandre felt sweat bead on his forehead. No woman had ever driven him this insane with passion. The desire to simply lay her down and teach her all sorts of ways a man could tease his woman was almost overwhelming, but he knew the importance of this moment. His shy fleur was awakening in his arms—her faith in him as a man had never been more apparent.
She was now kissing her way down his neck, her beautiful body sliding oh, so slowly down his, a symphony of delight that tortured at the same time. He knew he should loosen his embrace but he wanted to feel every inch of her as it rubbed over him. She didn’t stop her kisses when she reached the open neck of his shirt.
The first kiss fell on the dip where his collarbones met. Alexandre felt his entire body go taut. “Charlotte.”
Smiling against him, she kissed down to the first button of his shirt. “Can I open this button?” Her eyes were big in that exotically beautiful face.
“Non,” he growled. “Definitely not. You will kill me.”
“Please,” she whispered, in the husky tones of a woman who has just discovered her feminine power.
It was a shock to the system in more ways than one. He’d never thought he’d be encouraging a woman’s sexual strength, but faced with Charlotte’s blossoming sensuality, he knew that he’d deny her nothing. “One button,” he said, moving the hand still clenched in her hair to the warm curve of her nape.
Sliding her hands down from his neck, she undid the first button. Her fingers spread over the exposed triangle of skin, sending his nerve endings into overdrive. “Your hair here feels different—crisper.” It was an intimate whisper from a woman to her lover.
He leaned his head closer to hers. “Do you like it?”
Her nod sent the cool water of her hair sliding over his hands. “How good is your control?” Heavily lashed eyes looked up at him, desire alive in their depths.
He had no control where she was concerned. “What is it you wish of me, chérie?”
Color stained her cheeks but she didn’t back away. “I want to keep going.”
He swallowed and tried to breathe. “All right.” He knew he should stop her but he didn’t have it in him. If she wanted to do this, he’d find a way to rein in the ravenous hunger awakening in his body. A hunger that wanted a long, hot taste of Charlotte.
At least twice over.
Eight
Charlotte undid another button on Alexandre’s shirt and wanted to whimper. The man’s body was beautiful beyond all reason. Unable to resist the temptation, she pressed her lips to the skin she’d bared, tasting him.
His groan was a rumble against her lips, his heart thunder under the fingertips she had pressed against his shirt. Glorying in her ability to make him feel such pleasure, she undid two more buttons and found herself at the waistband of his pants.
Swallowing, she pulled out the tails of his shirt and slipped the last button out of its hole. The feel of his bare skin under her hands had her gasping for breath. His abdomen was ridged with muscle that tensed under her touch and she indulged herself by running her fingers over him.
“Charlotte.”
Biting her lower lip, she looked up into his face. Alexandre’s eyes were closed and his jaw clenched tight, as he undoubtedly fought his desire to take the reins. It was the final thing she needed to tell her that she’d made the right decision. “Alexandre?”
His lashes lifted. “Ma petite.”
Gazing into that unapologetically masculine face, she whispered, “Make love to me.”
Alexandre felt his heart kick violently in his chest. “Charlotte—you’re emotional—don’t make a decision that will cause you hurt in the morning.” He couldn’t bear it if she regretted being with him.
Her smile was soft and so bright, he felt blinded by its beauty. “I’ll never regret being loved by you.”
“Are you truly sure?” he forced himself to ask, battling the possessive marauder who just wanted to take.
“Yes.”
He shuddered and held her tight. “I’m afraid I can’t protect you.” Her becoming pregnant didn’t scare him. For the first time in his life, such a thing seemed a gift rather than a worry. And that worried him. How far had Charlotte Ashton burrowed into his heart?
She placed a gentle kiss over his heart. “Remember that day I went to town and you got so angry because I’d walked home in the dark?”
Of course he remembered. Once again, his conscience told him that he should confess but he couldn’t bring himself to shatter her faith in him. “Yes.”
“Well…I made myself buy…you know.” He could feel her blushing. “I was so embarrassed—I’ve never done that before. I was sure everyone was looking at me.”
He bit back his smile. “Why did you buy…you know?” His words were gently teasing, even as relief whispered through him. It would’ve been torture to walk away tonight when in her eyes, he’d seen a welcome he’d barely allowed himself to imagine he’d ever see.
“Because,” she said, “while I might not be experienced, I know myself.” She finally met his gaze. “No matter what I tried to convince myself and you, I knew that sooner or later, I’d be in your arms.”
It was the first time she’d admitted her inexperience, but he would’ve guessed, even if he hadn’t read her journal. There was an innocence about her that said she’d never known a lover. “Are you happy to be here?” His heart almost stopped beating as he waited for her answer.
Her smile began in her eyes and lit her face from within. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
Lover Mine,
I guess every woman dreams of the first time she’ll love a man, imagines what it’ll feel like, fantasizes about how he’ll touch her…how he’ll taste her. I’m no different.
Do you want to know what I’d like for that very first time? I suppose you expect me to tell you I want roses and moonlight, a bubble bath and scented oils. Well, I wouldn’t say no to that one day.
But for that very first time, that very first touch of skin on skin, all I want is tenderness. Absolute tenderness. I want to be touched as if I am precious, as if my body fulfills your every fantasy, as if you can’t bear to let me go.
Charlotte’s secret longings whispered through his mind as he took her hand and followed her gentle tug toward the bedroom. His shirt was hanging open and he noted how her gaze kept straying to his c
hest. He couldn’t fight his grin. Giving his Charlotte tenderness would require no effort at all, not when she made him feel so protective of the shine in her eyes.
“What?” she asked, when she saw his smile.
They were in her bedroom now, standing by the double bed. He reached out and ran his fingers through her unbound hair. “I like the way you want me, kitten.”
Her cheeks reddened, but when she spoke, her eyes met his. “I look at you and I want to touch.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her courage in this arena, not when he’d witnessed her strength in so many other ways. “It’s not something I’ll ever deny you.” He cupped her cheek. “Not when I can’t keep my hands off you.”
When she lifted her face to his, he took the hint and kissed her. It started out gentle and slowly became wilder, his hunger for her voracious. Even as he kissed her like he’d dreamed of doing, his hands roved over her body and slipped under the bottom of her thin sweater. The feel of her warm skin was pure pleasure.
She whimpered into his mouth as his hands stroked the skin of her waist and back, but made no move to retreat. He paused long enough to ask, “Oui?”
Eyes big, she nodded. And then she raised her arms so he could pull the sweater off. He took his time. He’d never seen skin as beautiful as hers, tawny gold and heated with life. His eyes dropped to her stomach. She sucked in a breath.
He wanted to caress that skin but before he could, he had to bare her. He had to give the hunger in him something to feast on. With one tug, he pulled the sweater off and threw it to the floor. She stood before him dressed in jeans and a lacy white bra.
For a moment, he lost any skill he might’ve had, any finesse. All he wanted to do was indulge his senses in her. Shuddering, he wrapped one arm around her waist, tugged her to him and buried his face in her neck. The heady scent of her shot through his system like a drug.
“Alexandre?” Her fingers whispered through his hair as she held him to her.