He was kissing her deeply, desperate for the feel of her soft curves against him before he even knew what he was doing. His heart was pounding, his body straining for release, frantic to be buried deep inside her warm heat. No woman should ever taste this intoxicating. It should be a criminal offence to render a man so completely insensible with just one kiss.
The level of his need for Fleur had been frightening. He'd had enough women over the years, enjoyed them and given back equal amounts of pleasure. But he was unprepared for the level of need she dragged out of him. He was ready to promise her the moon if she would only allow him to taste every inch of her soft skin, lick and nibble his way over every delicious curve before he sank himself deep inside her over and over again.
"Fleur," he groaned painfully, wrenching his mouth from hers. He tried to push her away but one look at her confused, passion filled face had his breath catching in his throat. Sweet Jesus, she was so totally stunning. With another groan he held her head against his chest, wrapping her securely in his arms as he took deep, tortured breaths.
Fleur had pulled his shirt free, her palms gliding beneath the fabric and over the flesh burning beneath it. She removed her hands and slowly began opening the buttons down the front, dark eyes meeting his without hesitation. She let her fingers trail around the band of his jeans and savored the shudder that raced through him.
“Is something wrong, Dorian?” Fleur pushed the sides of his shirt open, her hands tracing lines and muscles like a sculpture, drinking in each and every inch for her masterpiece. Only the masterpiece was standing before her.
“I think I’m losing control of my brain functions, Fleur,” it still amazed him that the deep, low groans echoing in the silence of the apartment were his. He couldn’t remember emotions this alive, this strong in his life.
“And for a time…” She dropped kisses over his chest and onto his chin. “There is nothing but here and now. I have always wondered what it felt like to have all else driven from your mind by one kiss. By one touch,” she whispered against his mouth, moaning softly when his arms circled her, his body straightened and her feet left the floor. The laugh from her lips next was light and surprised. “Dorian! What are you doing?”
“Finding someplace besides the laundry room,” he growled, wincing when he bent slightly and swung her into his arms. “Which way, Fleur?”
“Through the main room and on the right,” she laid her head against his shoulder, fingers caught in the strands of dark straw above his ear. She lifted herself slightly, her teeth pulling on the lobe of his ear. “I must ask if you are prepared for this, Dorian.”
Chapter Five
He didn’t try and control or stop the savage electrical shock that ran through him when her teeth bit his throat, a teasing, hot tongue following the pain with sweet whispers. He laid her on the unmade bed, shoving blankets to the side and pulling the tee shirt over her head and dropping it behind him. He struggled to shove a hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling several packets free and tossing them to the nightstand.
“I stood arguing with myself for ten minutes in the men’s room at the resort,” he said in answer to the curious look in her eyes. Eyes that seemed to touch him as surely as her palms. Her palm rose from the bed to touch him only to have it caught in his hand, drawn higher until his mouth pressed into the soft center.
“Arguing?” Fleur said softly, the smile touching her lips slightly crooked when he leaned forward until she lay spread across the large bed, one palm brushing through the short, dark hair. She shivered at the intensity in his eyes, a deep cerulean that seemed flecked with silver as they caressed her as assuredly as his palm was. She eased her elbows behind her and hooked a finger in the band of his jeans, tugging so he toppled forward onto the bed with her. “Nothing to argue about, Dorian.”
“No…no, there isn’t,” he murmured seconds before his mouth sought hers in a long, slow kiss. He’d spent too long focused, too long intent on the end to enjoy the moment, he realized as he lost himself to the sensual pleasures spread beneath his hands. Hungry for more, he rolled to his back and took her over with him, groaning aloud when her jean covered legs split, the apex settled over the thumping hardness making itself painfully known to him.
Fleur liked how he had arranged them. She liked the tiny tingles radiating from where they met. No, she thought, liked wasn’t quite the right word. Wanted. Hotly, wildly wanted, she knew instinctively. Sparks filled and splintered from where their bodies pressed together. She knew she was the cause of his reaction, of the low groans echoing against their lips. But she also knew she had to feel more of him. Had to angle things better, her hips tilting and rotating, pressing heavily with an almost painful lack of haste to find just the right spot. Between the seam of her jeans and his body, stars burst free in deep gulping breaths, her eyes shut tightly against the convulsions that shook her, vibrated through her and taking all immediate thought from her mind.
Dorian watched her through smoky blue eyes, glazed and excited, he watched the surprise take over the delicate features. Color flooded her cheeks, those gloriously dark eyes widened and the bow of her lips called to him. One hand went to the back of her head, pulling her mouth to his as he tipped her to the side and opened the button at the top of her jeans. His palm slid down the front to her center, cupping her and dragging his fingers through the moist heat he felt burning his skin.
Fleur lay still, stunned at her reaction to him. Her body tried to help him when his hands tugged her jeans off, panties falling with them onto the floor. She raised a palm, sliding it over the front of his jeans. A tiny laugh broke free when he gripped her wrist and removed her palm.
“Dorian…” Fleur raised one knee, peering at him wincing when he stood up and shoved his jeans down his legs.
“No touching right now,” he ground, taking one of the packets and moving back to her side, his mouth down on hers while his hands fumbled.
Fleur put a hand against his chest and pushed, her fingers closing around the packet when it fell on her stomach.
“It is my turn…relax…” she told him, sinking her mouth hotly against his, trailing over his cheeks to his throat.
“You have got to be kidding,” he murmured in a low growl, watching her through narrow blue slits.
She moved to her knees, one arm twisting slightly behind her to open a snap because the next thing he saw was a slim piece of coral lace and nylon being slid down her arms and dropped behind her.
He had no idea his body could get any harder, any more desperate for another person. No, he corrected instantly. For her. His head pressed into the mattress when her palms stroked together down the hard length of him, slim fingers tracing around the shape and weight of him. He felt her rolling the condom into place and reached for her hungrily, pulling her hard against him and letting his hands move purposefully to her hips.
Fleur felt his body beneath hers. Mewing softly when she felt those warm sparks stroked as he arched his hips against hers at the same time maneuvering her body. Her lips parted for a gulp of air when a set of strong fingers surrounded one breast, the taut peak of her nipple held and stroked with the pad of his thumb before it was caught and pinched. Her knees parted and their bodies moved closer, the hot flow of moisture easing along the strong shaft trapped between her thighs.
Dorian could see the threads of self-control bursting free, the tendons in his wrist beginning to ache in a useless effort to hold her from moving. Her hips rotated and swiveled even while he fingers dug into her skin, sliding down onto her thighs and up to her waist when he felt himself caught. Trapped, hot and sliding with a torturous lack of haste.
Fleur gave herself over to the myriad of sensations crashing through her. She could feel the sweat breaking out on them both. The muscles of her thighs were begging to be set free even as his erection gradually filled her. His palms slid over the soft sheen of moisture, along her ribs until he cupped her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples and distracting her intent
to move slowly.
Dorian’s eyes flew wide at the sudden rush of feelings and emotions as they crashed down at the same time her knees spread wider. He saw more than surprise spark in her wide, dark eyes and groaned when the tight, hot sheath began to ripple and convulse around him. His hands left her breasts, gripped her hips and moved himself slowly, groaning in the clenching, fragrant heat. He heard his name. He heard the gulp of air into her lungs and felt her hands pressing against his chest, bracing herself as she released herself to move. She flexed muscles inside and knew it was just the right thing to do. For herself as well as for him.
Fleur closed her eyes and let her body ride the waves. She felt him moving, thrusting and calling to her when all of time slithered into nothing around her. Her body surrendered gracefully, palms sliding forward and her body stretched out over his, the sounds of thick heavy panting and gasps for air all around her. She slid her fingers into the thick, straw colored hair and whimpered against his throat while the tremors slowly subsided.
Never had the feelings been that strong, that intense in his life. Never had a woman entered his blood stream, his mind and too many waking thoughts. He had moments lately, wondering if he was destined to be alone. At thirty-six and once divorced, he considered himself settled. Then he had found a pair of wide, dark eyes topped with a pixie haircut that sent his senses skittering over the floor.
Fleur mumbled a protest when his palms slid down her back, a shiver and words whispered against his throat. She deliberately tightened her muscles and released a soft giggle when he groaned and unceremoniously dumped her to the bed. Eyes filled with laughter and contentment met a pair of blue circles only slightly frowning before he moved from the bed to the open bathroom.
Dorian swore he heard soft purring when he returned to the bed. She lay across the center, on her side, long legs stretched and toes pointed. He couldn’t resist running his palm over the length to her hip, into the dip of her waist and scraping fingernails around the underside of her breast. The irresistible bow of her lips drew him in for a long, slow kiss before he saw the dark lashes lift slightly.
“Why were you arguing with yourself at your purchase?” She asked curiously, shivering and not protesting when his hand slid over her behind to pull her closer. The room was warm and smelled of the lavender she had around her space. Lavender and them, she realized with a half-smile.
“I’m a guy who sometimes tries to work out things in his head that aren’t ready for answers yet,” he said quietly, both sets of eyes going to the large, open glass above their heads when the thick rumble began out over the curling, crashing white caps on the churning waters of the Sound. “I didn’t want to rush you. I didn’t want to be caught unprepared, just in case. I didn’t want to complicate the…I didn’t want to be Benton.”
Fleur looked at the palms that lay between them, his gently pressed against hers and fingers interlocking now and then. She freed her palm and brought it to his face, drawing a slow, tender line near his cheek.
“It is not in your eyes to be like Benton,” she said finally, her head shook slightly. “I must confess, I have never been swept off my feet so effectively, Dorian. But if I had not felt…safe, I think, is the word I want. I knew if I had said no, you would have heard me. Does this help?” Her head tipped slightly to the side, her body making a visible start when the building seemed to rumble beneath a rolling wave of thunder.
“I think we lost power,” he commented, sitting up and glancing at her clock.
“It is spring,” she said dismissively, drawing one finger down the center of his chest. “We are warm and comfortable. You are very sexy, intelligent and imaginative,” she grinned at him and pressed her body to his. “I am sure you can think of some way to while away the afternoon.”
“And here I was…” Dorian slid lower until their lips were inches apart. “Thinking I had a beautiful woman who delights in torture…”
“Torture?” Fleur repeated softly, her tongue drawn over her lower lip before her teeth pulled it between them. “I did not notice that you were complaining,” she teased and edged a little closer, perk soft breasts rubbing against his chest. “I shall have to listen better.”
“You’ve been hiding this vixen inside that sexy tunic you wear,” he returned, enjoying their verbal play as much as the way their bodies touched and their scents mingled in the flashes of lightening both inside and outside the bedroom.
“Perhaps waiting for the right man to unwrap me,” she suggested with a low, throaty chuckle. “One with stamina…and a very delicious kiss,” Fleur leaned in and closed the small gap, letting herself sink into their private world.
His hands and mouth were talented and made her breathless.
They laughed and talked and played until the sun was barely peeking through the dark clouds of the passing storms. Dorian came out of the bathroom a long time later, the rumpled sheets and blankets a reminder that sent a masculine memory shuddering through him.
But the sexy French woman was absent. He stood still for a minute, listening. Windows and doors were being opened as he stepped into his jeans and pulled his tee shirt over his head. He tucked it in but left the top button of his jeans undone, bending and peering beneath the bed for the missing shirt.
“Fleur…I’m missing my…” He walked into the large main room and stopped, watching her move around the big kitchen. In nothing but his shirt, he realized when he rounded the counter and leaned his hip against it. “You’re holding my shirt hostage?”
A slow, sensual flame began in the pit of his stomach when she took the edges of the button down shirt and pulled it over her face, inhaling deeply.
“It smells like you,” she teased and turned back to the chicken and pasta she was stir frying.
“I for one am glad it smells like the good part of me instead of the me after a long workout session,” Dorian laughed, his head shaking. “I was supposed to work my laundry today.”
“I’m a distraction,” Fleur said without any remorse. “Is it with you? In the car?”
“Yes.”
“Then bring it in here, Dorian. The washer is empty,” Fleur walked up to him, her palms gliding over the smooth cotton of his tee shirt. “Or did you have to hurry back to the resort?”
“Not until tomorrow at noon,” his hands moved without consulting him, over her back and down, finding his shirt ended just below the firm globes he now held tightly against him. “I’ll go get my stuff…be right back…food…” he whispered even as his body was reacting to her scent, her nearness. Her, he realized with a low groan. “Right back,” he repeated and took a forced step back, his hand digging into the pocket of his jeans and surfacing with keys.
Dorian came back and stopped at the opening to the kitchen, watching her toss some things in a pan, her wrist flicking and things landing lightly back inside and glad it wasn’t him trying to do that.
“A very suspicious blonde was just pulled into an elevator,” he said slowly, carrying the makeshift sack into the laundry room. “Guy with dark hair put an arm around her waist and literally hauled her into the elevator. She started asking me questions…”
Fleur glanced over at him with a wince. “That will be Faith. She lives on the top floor with Dominic,” she sighed. “Which means, Charity will know in seconds…”
Dorian’s loading movements came to a stop, deciding watching his shirt run across the large room and down the hall was a more worthy activity. The tails of his shirt barely covered her, he noted with a masculine sigh. He heard the music and saw the dark lashes close as she slowly returned to the kitchen.
“Hi, Charity…Faith, hi…yes, he told me he’d just seen you outside. It is thoughtful to worry, but I am fine. His name is Dorian Fields, he will be working for Mason. He is doing his laundry while I fix dinner. Of course I am very much looking forward to it! I have my little dress and sarong all prepared. Emily is a genius with costumes! Yes, Monday at six…adieu!”
“Costumes?” Dorian wasn�
�t sure what triggered the hairs at the back of his neck, along with the male part of him that should be satisfied, at least for the moment. Yet he felt it give another jump of interest when she smiled at him and went to the kitchen, quickly preparing two plates and handing him one.
“It’s Jamaica week at the resort! Excellent traditional food and decorations and costumes, of course,” Fleur gestured to a seat at the table. “Oh, I am sorry. There aren’t many choices for beverages. I have grape juice and orange…and iced water and milk.”
“I’m good,” he sat and began eating, savoring the mix of spices and pasta. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”
“I have always wanted to cook,” she said carefully, leaning a little closer as if they might be overheard. She didn’t notice the small well of shadow betrayed by his shirt that teased his senses. “I do not like being a chef. Too many rules. Too much ego.”
“Huh…funny…I know a couple chefs and that about describes them perfectly,” he forced his mind and eyes away from the wide eyes and tanned flesh. “You’re a very good cook.”
“Thank you. What about you? Did you always want to build things?”
“It hit me when I was about ten, I think,” he looked at her thoughtfully. Dates, he mused. It had been a long, long time since he’d had such a simple one. “I had friends caught in a building when a big earthquake struck San Francisco,” Dorian saw her hand freeze on the way to her mouth, those wide, luminous eyes filling with empathy and sadness. “One of them didn’t make it out of the high rise. Took a long time for my grandparents and parents to help me understand the things they were saying in the news. About why the buildings came down and how it could have been prevented.”
WindSwept Narrows: #20 Fleur & Liliana Page 4