WindSwept Narrows: #20 Fleur & Liliana

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “And you didn’t want to lose another friend,” she said softly, nodding in understanding. “There must be a great deal to learn, Dorian. Technology is so busy adjusting and changing. Cooking…there isn’t much that changes with that.”

  “But I am very grateful one of us can cook,” he told her sincerely. He answered questions and laughed with her for the next hour, both of them rising and clearing the table when the sun began to streak pink and gold across the sky above the distant snowcapped mountains.

  Chapter Six

  Fleur finished rinsing down the sink when she felt him move behind her. His palms began low on her thighs and stroked heavily along her flanks. Firm, teasing thumbs caressing where her ass met her legs and made her breath catch. A warm tingle began deep inside her and she let her head fall back against his shoulder. Firm teeth and heated breath nibbled over her shoulder, nudging her head to the side a little more to grant him access to the long expanse of her throat.

  Dorian saw her hands clenching on the edge of the sink and heard the soft panting when his fingers spread over her ribs, stroking down and teasing the feminine grotto open to his touch. It struck a chord deep inside him that her reaction to his touch mirrored his own to her nearness. It was real and alive and completely different than he had known in the past. Somewhere inside him he knew the meaning of the romantic notion of a soul mate.

  Fleur had never known passion, longing and desire to sweep through her with such force, such need. There were so many sensations coursing through her, attacking the nerve endings as his mouth and hands carried her to the edge and helped her over it. In the kitchen! Her mind shouted seconds before his name was torn from her lips, her lips parted for the long, deep kiss when he spun her around and bent just enough to lift her against him.

  “Dorian!”

  “I know, baby, hold on so we don’t end up on the floor,” his voice was raw with need, his hands firm on her behind and legs threatening him when he crossed the large room to her bedroom. He lowered her to the edge of the bed, his hand reaching for a packet at the same time her palms worked the belt free and shoved his jeans out of the way. A low, sultry groan was dragged from inside him when her mouth touched him, caressed and licked until he was positive he’d lost the ability to see clearly. A part of his brain told him it was dusk, another part said the only way to fix it was to bury himself in her softness.

  Hot, soft and demanding, he parted her thighs and thrust inside her, both their voices heard in the silence of evening. He withdrew and thrust again, turned, twisted and took everything she was offering, his body falling over hers to pull her to the edge of the high bed, his hands sunk into the short pixie dark hair. His mouth covered her, whispering hotly over her jaw and along her throat as his body tried to slow and lost when her muscles contracted around him, convulsed and stroked a part of him so deeply buried in heat and moisture he lost the battle. If he was even fighting it.

  His hands tightened on her ass, pulling her hard against him when his body gave up the fight, emptying more of him than he knew he possessed. Dorian held her close, worried after a few long minutes that he’d cut off her breathing because his grip was so tight. Then his mind returned and he felt the soft whispered of breath against his throat. He eased back slowly, peering into a set of dark, sparkling eyes that were probably as dazed as his own right then. Did right opportunities, right people all fall into your life at once? He brushed her mouth with his and inhaled deeply before backing up.

  He saw her almost melt to the surface of the bed as he went to the bathroom, so many things jumbling around inside him at once to think clearly. Dorian shed the rest of his clothes and climbed into bed beside her, drowsy and warm, she curled against him.

  “I must be at work tomorrow,” Fleur murmured against his chest. “Ten.”

  “I have to be there at noon, so we’ll make it work,” he kissed her forehead, warmth flowing softly through him when she sighed.

  ****

  The first week of May came in too darn early, Fleur decided with a soft groan. Barely past six, she rolled to her side and closer to the radiating warmth on the other side of the bed. She lay quietly on her stomach when she felt the strong fingers begin to massage her behind.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” she said softly, familiar sounds greeting her seconds before she was gently rolled to her back.

  “I was…and I had this incredible dream about a French pixie who aroused me most of the night,” Dorian drew his tongue around lips parted to sup in a breath of air. “She whispered to me in French and made these wildly passionate demands.”

  It didn’t surprise her that he was already hard or that she was tenderly coerced into being ready to accept him. Long, strong and slow, the strokes of his body mixed well with the possessive fingers circling and arousing that sensitive part of her where their bodies mingled.

  “I like your dreams,” she breathed, lifting her hips and taking him deeper, matching his moves and breaking apart in a shimmer of fine glass. Firm, convulsing muscles assaulted him, stole the control he falsely believed was his and helped him soar. The sound of his low, husky groan echoed around them.

  Fleur had a quick and easy breakfast on the table before taking a shower and removing the clothes from the dryer. She had a stack of clean clothes sitting on the sofa when she dropped a black tank top over her head and tucked it neatly into the trim black skirt. She dropped a pair of low, comfortable heels by the door before taking a big bite of the seeded bagel and draining half the glass of juice.

  Dark eyes met bright blue circles when he lifted a tee shirt from the clean pile and pulled it over his head. Fleur just watched the way his body flexed and wondered if people died of lust. She looked up to see him grinning at her before he finished dressing and joined her at the counter.

  “I was thinking it might be a good idea to leave the clothes here,” Dorian waited for his words to settle, relief when she only smiled and nodded. “Let’s get you to work on time,” he drained the juice and went in search of things he’d pulled from the pockets of his jeans earlier before tossing them into the laundry pile she showed him.

  Fleur stepped into her heels and checked for keys before slipping the slender strap over her head. She was standing in the open door, inhaling the fresh morning when he joined her.

  “What is scheduled for your week?” She asked after he joined her in the SUV, her hands hugged the sweater she wore close.

  “Tons of paperwork and hopefully, a couple more matches in the evenings,” Dorian almost said he’d be apartment hunting but decided that activity might be put on hold. He had a feeling by the end of the week, they’d know they belonged together. “What time will you finish up today?”

  “Five. I’ll catch the shuttle and come home,” she said easily. “With Jamaica week beginning, we’ll have a few extra hours because of all the planned activities and events. We’ve found some marvelous recipes to try.”

  “You should wait for me in the ante room, Fleur,” Dorian found a parking spot and turned the car off.

  “You have no idea how long you will be playing, Dorian,” she said with a shake of her head. “The shuttle is very quick and I’ve things I can do at home. You know the way and can…”

  “Fleur,” Dorian spoke loudly since she was already headed toward the entrance for the employees. He broke into a light jog, snagging her hand and striding toward the main entrance to the resort. “You have a lunatic bent on getting your attention. I doubt it’ll be much later than five-thirty…”

  “I realize that but I am taking the shuttle. I have decided that I am not going to give up my life until that man comes to his senses. Besides, he will be in the card games with you, won’t he?”

  “I don’t know. He might finish early,” Dorian stopped outside the restaurant, frustration with her mounting. How the hell could he go from content to anger so quickly? “Just wait for me at the game room, Fleur. Please.”

  Fleur pulled her hand free, glaring at the same t
ime Lacie and Mason came from the elevators. A low growl left her lips along with a long and potent string of French before she spun on her heels and disappeared into the restaurant.

  Frannie Kendall came to a stop, blond hair that had begun the night in a neat braid now looked more than a little frayed around the heart shaped face. Green eyes went from the departing Fleur to the people now standing, one of which sported a deep frown of frustration. She raised her hand, one finger pointing.

  “Something about a very large stick and refusing to cower like a mouse,” Frannie said quietly, one pale brow arched expectantly at Lacie.

  “Oh…hmm…Frannie, this is Mason Wells and Dorian Fields,” Lacie patted Dorian’s arm lightly. “Be right back, breathe deeply,” she instructed before moving quickly through the restaurant to the kitchen.

  “Hello…pleased to meet you both,” Frannie brought her palm up to cover the small yawn. “Excuse me…late night…two babies…very happy moms and dads, though. You’re both new here, aren’t you?”

  “Frannie? I’ll bring the car around…” Donovan came to a stop, his palm up on Mason’s shoulder. “I heard you were relocating. You’ve met Frannie?”

  “Oh, good, you know them…restroom…be right back,” Frannie offered a slight wave of her palm as she wandered off.

  “She’s usually more talkative and in full sentences,” Donovan watched the jeans stride across the expanse of the lobby. “It was a long night for her.”

  “Something about babies?” Mason remarked easily.

  “Frannie’s a midwife, among other things,” Donovan explained proudly.

  “Donovan, this is my second and structural engineer, Dorian Fields. I’m not sure what’s going on, though,” Mason admitted carefully.

  “Sorry. Pleased to meet you, Donovan. And what’s going on is Fleur refusing to wait for me and wanting to take the shuttle when that idiot won’t stop stalking her,” Dorian ground his teeth together and looked quickly at his wrist. “Shit. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to change for the tournament. If Lacie manages to convince her to come to her senses, get someone to get me a note would you, Mason?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he answered, watching his friend jog toward the elevator.

  “A stalker?” Donovan felt a keen bad memory. “Frannie had a patient with a stalker problem.”

  “The kid’s barely twenty five and thinks he’s god’s gift to women and he’s not subtle and refuses to take no for an answer,” Mason explained with a shake of his head. His hand was put when Lacie came walking casually to join him. “How’s Fleur?”

  “I’ve managed to convince her to wait in the lounge with me,” she smiled at him and then at Donovan. “How’s Frannie? I saw her zipping toward the health center last night.”

  “Two babies!” Frannie announced with a renewal of energy. Damp tendrils of golden straw curled around her face. “Anya and Alice! It was a wonderful night! Both mom’s terribly healthy and happy. One boy and one girl.”

  “Anya was hoping for a boy,” Lacie said with a nod. “It’s been a busy couple weeks for you.”

  “And I am now off to crash,” Frannie announced, not protesting when Donovan tucked her close and said their farewells.

  “I’ll get a note to Dorian,” Mason guided them toward the tournament room.

  “I understand her frustration,” Lacie said softly while he found paper and a pen.

  “And I understand him wanting her safe,” Mason said simply.

  “I know…and I tried explaining that to her. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to be worried about, I mean she doesn’t want him worrying, that’s the problem,” Lacie ignored the puzzled look on Mason’s face and sighed.

  Chapter Seven

  Fleur looked up from the tray she had prepared to see one of the assistants speaking with a tall, older gentlemen in the doorway. She gestured for Tyler to put the tray in the fridge until it was needed and lifted the towel she had tucked into her tunic. Hands were wiping as she approached.

  “Is there a problem?” Fleur looked from Delia to the man expectantly.

  “You are Fleur Delacort?” He asked gruffly, pale brown eyes raking her from head to toe with an open, arrogant appreciation. “Yes, I can see why my son is attracted to you. He always did favor the delicate type.”

  “Your son?” Fleur repeated slowly, her breathing suddenly hard to control.

  “My name is Thomas Benton, Sr. I’d like a few moments of your time,” he said, instantly dismissing the woman he’d been speaking with.

  “It is alright, Delia.” Fleur waited until she was gone. “I do not know why you are here, but I am working and have nothing to discuss as far as your son is concerned. I have told him I am not interested. I am married and contentedly so.” She turned toward the kitchen, stopping at his words.

  “I’d like to make you a proposition, Miss Delacort.” His hand was out and on her arm, holding her in place. “Don’t turn your back on me, young woman. I do not like having someone turn their back to me when I’m speaking with them.”

  Fleur jerked her arm free, dark eyes flashing with anger. “Evidently you have taught your manners to your son. I do not want you touching me. Leave my kitchen before I call for security.”

  “Do you honestly believe your little job is safe if I issue a complaint to management about your behavior?” He leaned close to her ear, his teeth clenched tightly together. “You will take the time to speak with me. I will find your price. In the lounge in ten minutes.”

  Lacie wandered to the kitchen in time to see an older man dressed in a suit and tie leaving the kitchen. Her gaze swept to Fleur, the hairs on the back of her neck up with annoying warning. She reached out and touched Fleur’s hand where it rested on the stainless steel counter and frowned. Her hand was like ice. People moved and worked all around them.

  “What happened, Fleur?”

  “I…I do not believe…” He head shook slightly as fingers opened the buttons down the side of her tunic. She walked toward the locker room, dropping the tunic into the laundry. She sank down onto one of the benches, her head falling forward to rest against the locker.

  “What happened?” Lacie leaned against the lockers patiently.

  “That man offered to purchase me for his son,” Fleur looked up at the stunned expression on Lacie’s face, positive her own looked very similar. “It is like a very bad movie, Lacie. He says to meet him in the lounge or he will inform management that I have behaved inappropriately and I will lose my job.”

  “Fleur, you know…management...good grief…no one is going to believe a thing the man has to say! You know that,” Lacie pushed against the locker and paced the room. “You’ve reported this from the beginning. Too many people know what’s been happening.”

  “What is wrong with me, Lacie? I did not invite that man into my life!” Fleur pulled her sweater from inside and slipped the thin strap of her bag over her head before slamming the locker and securing the door. “Believe me, one man in it is more than enough for me. Dorian is angry because of…of…”

  “Let’s go. Mason is waiting in the lounge for us,” Lacie took her friend’s palm and led her from the employee room. “We’ll talk to him.”

  “It is simply crazy, Lacie. I am thirty-three years old. How did I make it all these years and never come across people who behave so poorly!” Fleur shoved her shoulders back and glared, daring anyone to approach her in her present mood.

  “I’m not sure poorly qualifies for their behavior,” Lacie said softly, sighing as they walked. “More like they came out from under a couple rocks.”

  Mason stood at the entrance to the lounge and spotted Lacie at the same time an older man approached them from the side. He didn’t think about it until he saw the look on Fleur’s face. The normally tanned woman lost all color immediately and he moved to quickly join them.

  “I said I do not wish to speak with you,” Fleur said, working to control her temper and the unnatural sense of fear she felt in an icy chil
l along her spine.

  “I don’t recall giving you that option. We’ll find a table that’s quiet and secluded and you’ll hear my proposition. Everyone has a price, even you,” he put his hand around her upper arm, jerking her slightly toward the bustling lounge. Music and the chatter of people filled the large room he moved through as if it were empty.

  Fleur jerked her arm but only winced when he squeezed harder.

  “Let go of me!” She dug her feet into the stone tiles and made a wild grab for the bar. Eyes scanned frantically and she took a tall glass with ice tinkling and dashed it in the man’s face, hastily backing away when he released her.

  “You ignorant little bitch!” Thomas Benton Sr. swiped angrily at his face, his hand out to grab her again only to come up empty.

  Fleur felt a pair of hands on her waist, lifting her to the side as Mason and Dorian stepped in front of her. She recognized Dorian immediately, her hands on his waist and head against his back with a ragged sigh.

  “Out of my way,” Benton snarled, attempting to reach around both of the younger men.

  “Security is here to escort you from the premises,” Mason told him flatly, dark eyes shifting to the two uniformed men that came toward them.

  “The people who work here are not present for your abuse, Mr. Benton. Explain that to your son, as well.” Dorian met the man’s glare coldly.

  “Cassidy?” Fleur stepped forward as Thomas Benton Sr. was escorted from the lounge. “Mac? I did not mean to cause this trouble.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mac said quickly, the anger on his face contained, barely. “Cade is taking care of the registration for the Benton’s and Charity is releasing a public relations statement. Fleur, this is not your fault.”