Legally Mine (Spitfire Book 2)

by Nicole French

  "That's very parochial of you," I joked, although the words and his tone made my entire body hum.

  "Lapsed Catholic," he rejoined with a shy smile.

  Brandon's thumbs stroke the edges of my cheekbones as he looked down at me, dark blue eyes shining with love. I couldn't have looked away even if I wanted to.

  "I've never been a religious man, Red," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse and low. "When I'm with you...I find myself praying a whole lot more than I ever did."

  "Oh? Not for help, I hope."

  Brandon shook his head shyly. "No. I'm too busy thanking Him for making me the luckiest bastard in the world."

  His words took mine away. I wanted to tell him that his touch seared my skin and made my cells tingle, that his face was at the center of my heart. That being with him made the world make sense and turn upside down all at once.

  But instead I pulled him down to me for a kiss that would say what I couldn't quite put into words. That I felt that same magical connection, one that was so much more than love. One small word couldn't begin to cover it.

  Brandon's hands drifted down my waist and pulled me tight to him, the romance of the moment quickly morphing into something much more animal. I pressed back, eager for the feel of his growing arousal. He leaned in for another kiss, but we were interrupted by a loud growl of his stomach.

  I broke away, laughing, and he gave a sheepish smile.

  "I really want to have you for dinner, Red," he said with a chuckle. "But I think I might fall over first."

  My own stomach grumbled back, and we both laughed again. It had been a long time since breakfast. Brandon took my hand and kissed my palm, eyes shining with the heat of a promise for more, later.

  "Come on, gorgeous," he said. "Let's find some real food first. Then we can take care of that other craving."

  ~

  "I suppose I should tell you about our plans for the trip," he said after we sat down at a busy restaurant just a few blocks away.

  Mark Grove had happily provided a list of recommendations for Marseille, and this bistro, with its casual al fresco patio that looked out over the Old Harbor and the pink lights of the city, topped it. While in Boston most of the restaurants would be clearing out their tables by now, ten o'clock in France was right in the middle of prime dining time.

  I perused the menu and took a sip of my water. "I thought you said that the plan was that we had no plan."

  Brandon tossed his head from side to side. "Well, sort of. We have options. Marseille is really central. I was thinking about going down the Italian coast or spending a few days in Spain, if you want. Or we could just stay in the bedroom too."

  He leered across the table, and I took another, longer sip of water, ignoring the blush that mottled my skin. Brandon just laughed.

  The waiter arrived with our bottle of wine and took our orders. I had let Brandon choose for me again, not because I couldn't read the menu, but because it was becoming a regular game between us to see if we could guess the other's preferences.

  Brandon was easy: although he was usually game to try anything, he tended to prefer simpler foods. Tonight, for instance, he went with the catch of the day and a side of stewed beans and vegetables. I, on the other hand, almost invariably wanted seafood when it was available, and usually went with either the chef's special or whatever was a bit strange on the menu.

  "I'm going to guess the supions avec artichauts," Brandon said in his slightly clunky French. He glanced at me. "Did I get it right? I figured you'd go for anything with tentacles in it."

  I grinned. "On the nose."

  The waiter took our orders with a curt nod, then left us with our drinks.

  "Is it wrong that I want to just play it by ear?" I asked. "I've already done the backpacking thing around Europe. I was really looking forward to just relaxing. Maybe just take some day trips around the area. What about you?"

  Brandon nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. Mark told me we should definitely drive down to the Pyrenees if you're up for some hiking."

  We continued to muse about various local places we could go while our food came and went, deciding in the end it would be best to rent a car for the next two weeks to do what we wanted. By the end of the meal, I had a list of possibilities sketched out on a napkin, and Brandon's face was alight with excitement. We were both giddy with wine and the thrill of being alone together––and more than ready to get back to the house.

  "Two weeks," he said again as we walked up one of the steep cobbled streets together toward Mark's villa. His arm was wrapped tightly around my shoulders. "I can't believe I get two whole weeks alone with my girl. Seriously, Red, I don't think I've taken a vacation in ten years."

  My arm, wrapped around his trim waist, just grasped a little tighter at his shirt, a white button-down rolled up at the sleeves. He had looked almost as delicious as my food all night, and the wine had me ready to eat him for dessert.

  Brandon inhaled at the sensitive spot just behind my ear. The tip of his tongue touched the delicate skin, and I shivered.

  "Come here," he said, and pulled me into a dark corner of the street. His mouth found mine easily as he pressed me into the dark space, one hand cupping my jaw as the other drifted down to my ass under my short skirt.

  "Fuck," he breathed between the torrent of kisses. His hips rocked into me, and I could feel his arousal clearly through his jeans. "I need you naked. Like, yesterday."

  "More," I demanded, my hands threading through his hair and pulling his mouth back to mine.

  He obliged, kissing me again until we were breathless. Both his hands found their way up my skirt, gripping the flesh while he grunted. I was about two seconds from letting him take me right there in the middle of the street. It was always like this, no matter where we were.

  Then I heard a click. It was low, and it might have just been the buzz of a streetlamp going out, or maybe the sound of a door shutting, or one of the myriad sounds you hear on a city street. But for some reason, it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  "Stop," I said, although Brandon was oblivious as he worked his mouth up and down my neck.

  "Hmm?" he asked. "Jesus. How do you smell so fucking good?"

  "Brandon, stop," I said, as I tapped him on the shoulder. I couldn't have said why, exactly, but I wanted to get out of the street.

  With a groan, he pushed himself off the wall, then reached down with one hand to adjust himself subtly. He stared, eyes clearly dilated with lust.

  "You have no idea how alluring you look right now," he said. "With your hair all curly, and your shirt half off your shoulder." He grinned, shark-like. "And knowing I did that makes it even more of a turn on."

  The look of naked desire on his face was almost enough to make me pull him back to continue his work. But.

  "Let's get inside," I said, not wanting to ruin his mood with my suspicions.

  Brandon grinned again. "You don't have to tell me twice," he said, and pulled me the rest of the way up the street, where he could continue his work in private.

  ~

  Chapter 32

  I was surprised to find that Brandon was actually a good driver as he maneuvered our rented Mercedes coupe down the crooked two-lane roads that snaked around the French countryside. Over the next two weeks, we fell into a rhythm where we would wake up in the morning and enjoy tea and coffee along with some kind of breakfast (usually scrambled eggs and fruit to go with pastries from a bakery down the street). Then we'd would look at the map of France that Mark had framed on his kitchen wall and pick a destination.

  "What do you think about staying here today?" Brandon asked after we'd repeated this pattern for ten days. "The Calanques trails are open; I already checked. We could hike down to one of the beaches."

  We'd already been wine-tasting twice, driven all the way up to Dordogne and spend the night in a castle, and gone for a long day drive to the Pyrenees the day before. We'd been waiting for the famous national park bordering the Eastern s
ide of Marseille to open for summer hiking for the last ten days. Because of the dry summer weather, the trails were often closed at this time of the year. Last night, however, it had rained.

  I was actually more than ready to spend a day in town. Hiking down to a hidden beach where we could swim and veg together sounded fantastic.

  After packing some things to bring with us, Brandon and I took a taxi to the Marseille-side trailhead of the park and started winding our way around the gorgeous cliffs of the Calanques. It was the kind of place that belonged on a postcard, and I made a mental note to send one to Bubbe when we got back to town.

  We walked for hours around the three-hundred-foot cliffs towering over the inlets for which the Calanques were named. The rocky white limestone speared up from the Mediterranean, and although we saw a few tourists also taking advantage of the rare summer access, we were mostly alone to enjoy the views, joke with each other, and eventually weave our way down to one of the many small, deserted beaches at the base of the cliffs.

  "Holy shit," I said for the thousandth time as I dropped my pack onto the white-pebble beach with a satisfying thump.

  I took a deep inhale of the salty sea air and pulled my ponytail off my neck to the feel the light breeze coming down the channel. Two walls of jagged cliffs on either side of the beach stretched for another hundred meters or so out to sea.

  "You up for a little cliff dive, Red?" Brandon said as he dropped his pack and proceeded to strip off his sweat-soaked T-shirt.

  I looked up from the towels I'd spread on the ground and ogled openly at his six-pack and well-defined arms. I'd seen the sight almost every day for the whole vacation, but it never failed to drop my jaw. Brandon's body was a bit tanner than usual after hiking shirtless the day before and swimming at local beaches and Mark's pool. On top of that, he'd only been shaving every few days, so his cheeks and jaw were covered with a golden growth that was delightfully scratchy whenever he kissed me.

  I, on the other hand, just had more freckles than ever.

  "See something you like, Red?" Brandon asked with a smirk when he caught me staring.

  I shut my mouth and grinned. "Yes." I wasn't trying to hide anything.

  The smirk deepened. "Didn't I satisfy you last night, green eyes? Or this morning? You're looking pretty hard over there."

  I blushed and bit my lip, but didn't avert my gaze. He was just so damn beautiful. Luckily, two could play that game. Instead of responding, I stood up to remove my tank top and shorts so that I was even more exposed than him in the skimpy bikini that I'd bought in Nice. Brandon's smirk immediately (and satisfyingly) morphed into a dropped jaw and darkened pupils.

  "I bet you're the one who won't be able to keep your hands to yourself," I countered.

  Brandon's eyes, which had been blazing down my body, blinked back up. His arrogance had completely replaced the casual lust. He cocked a blond brow.

  "I don't think so," he declared. He ran his hands casually up his bare stomach, knowing that the movement would make my mouth water. "Tell you what, Red. Loser has to make dinner tonight and do all the dishes."

  I bent down to retrieve the sunblock in my bag. Brandon and I both suffered from competitive streaks that sometimes came out with little bets or wagers. Brandon usually won. So far, I'd gotten stuck with dishes three other nights of the trip.

  But not this time. I undid the halter tie of my bandeau so that my neck and shoulders were bare.

  "Sounds good to me," I said.

  Brandon watched suspiciously and, if the adjustments he made to the front of his shorts were any indication, a bit uncomfortably. I squeezed some of the sunblock into my hand and proceeded to apply it to my upper body, taking extra time to rub the upper expanse of my chest and over the exposed tops of my breasts. When I looked back up, Brandon's eyes had dilated considerably. He was stone-still, muscles flexed and hands clenched by his sides.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," I said innocently as I continued to rub my hand slowly into the hollow between my breasts. "Did you want to help?"

  Brandon just chewed on his bottom lip as I proceeded to rub the lotion down my stomach and over my thighs, fingers slipping provocatively under the edges of my bikini bottoms. I gave a few low moans just for good measure. The tenting in his swim trunks was even more pronounced. Yeah, I was going to win this bet in about two minutes.

  "I know what you're doing," he said, not taking his eyes off my hands. He swallowed heavily.

  "Oh?" I turned around so he could watch as I rubbed my backside, kneading at the flesh the way he liked to do behind closed doors. I looked over my shoulders at him. "Do you?"

  Brandon jaw tightened visibly, and he ran a rough hand behind his neck. "Yes. And it's not going to work."

  I turned back around, pressing my hands into my skin as I moved them very, very slowly up my torso and down to hook my thumbs into my swimsuit bottoms. Brandon's arousal was now bordering on indecent. I totally had this.

  I smirked. "Oh really? And why is that?"

  With considerable effort, Brandon tore his gaze from my body and turned toward one of the small cliffs sticking out from the beach.

  "Because I've got cold water, baby," he said with a grin that seemed brighter than the sun above us.

  Then he scampered up the cliff and hurled himself off the edge, landing in the sapphire waves with a giant splash. I watched in shock when he emerged, flipping water back with a flick of his head and a laugh that echoed through our little canyon.

  "Come on, Red!" he called. "It feels great!"

  He didn't have to ask me twice. I grinned and climbed up the cliff myself. I jumped off with a whoop, landing beside Brandon with a slightly smaller splash.

  "Wooo!" I howled with glee as I burst back into the sun.

  Beside me, Brandon's thousand-watt smile showed that he was as happy as I was. We were surrounded by cliffs and trees, the sky and water mirroring one another's colors in perfect harmony. No one around for what felt like miles. It was perfect.

  Perfect, that is, until I realized I felt freer than I probably should. I looked down and shrieked.

  "Shit!" I cried as I splashed frantically, twisting around like a dog chasing its tail.

  "What? What is it?" Brandon asked, concern marring his relaxed features. "Did you see something in the water?"

  "No, I lost something in the water!" I yelped. "My swim top. It fell off!"

  I was now completely naked from the waist up. And my bandeau was nowhere in sight.

  "You're kidding." Brandon stopped looking around while an impish grin spread over his face. His long arms continued to tread slowly in the waves.

  "No, I'm not!" I continued to paddle around, looking for signs of my absent top while trying to keep my body below the water and out of sight.

  Brandon just watched with obvious amusement, and eventually started laughing as he made his way back to the shore and sat down in the shallow surf. The more I looked, the more he laughed, his loud guffaws filling the canyon while he held his belly in check.

  I glared from where I still tread water, my body submerged with the exception of my head.

  "You think this is funny?" I demanded. "You're not even going to help me look?"

  Brandon propped himself back on his elbows and grinned down his long body at me. "You have to admit, it's pretty hilarious, babe."

  I scowled, which only made him chuckle again. "It's not funny. I have nothing to wear now except a sweaty tank top!"

  My frustration just made him laugh harder, and when he caught me glowering at him, he collapsed back on his back, stomach shaking. That was it.

  "All right," I called as I swam back to the beach. My feet touched the ground, and I started to walk in toward Brandon.

  Brandon propped himself up on his elbows again. His eyes, which were the same color as the sky-blue waters that surrounded us, popped open as he watched my progress to shore.

  "What-what are you doing?" he asked, all signs of amusement wiped from his face.

&nb
sp; I stood up fully as I walked, topless in the afternoon sun as he stared, all signs of amusement gone. Water cascaded down my bare skin, and Brandon's gaze was riveted as I continued onto the beach.

  "Maybe it's not that big of a deal," I remarked as I kneeled beside him, careful not to let any part of me touch his wet skin. "It is France, after all. Everyone here goes topless."

  Brandon sat up fully, ignoring the tiny pebbles stuck to his elbows and back. He pushed a hand through his hair, not even bothering to shield his fascination with my naked breasts. I sat a little closer, bringing my nipples only an inch or so from his face. His mouth fell open, but he didn't move. His eyes flickered to my face, then back down. A drop of water fell off one nipple. Brandon bit his lip.

  "Not...going....to work," he said with considerable effort, although he made no move away. His shorts, now soaked, did nothing to hide his arousal.

  I smirked and stood up. Did he really think that's all I had? I swayed my hips as I retrieved the sun lotion, then came back to sit next to Brandon in the shallow water. He still hadn't moved, just watched silently as I squeezed another bit of lotion into my palms and rubbed them together.

  "What are you doing?" he asked again after clearing his throat.

  I glanced at him. "Time to reapply," I said, then started to rub the lotion over my chest again, this time making obvious circles around my breasts.

  "Reapply?"

  A muscle in the side of his neck ticked, and Brandon's eyes moved with the slow, deliberate movements of my hands.

  "Of course," I said slowly as my palms slipped under my breasts to rub lotion there. "I have to get the newly exposed areas too."

  I cupped my breasts and kneaded them softly, just as Brandon liked to do, usually when he was holding onto me from behind. His eyes widened even more as I pressed my fingers around the rounded swells, moving closer and closer to my nipples. His finger dug hard into the tiny pebbles.

  "Unless," I said in a breathy voice, "you'd like to help."

  I finally pressed my fingers into the hardened nubs of my nipples, coating them with just a bit of the coconut-scented lotion. I pinched them between my thumbs and forefingers. Brandon's eyes darkened into fathomless blue abysses. I moaned lightly. He lunged.