Knight and Day (The Knight Erotic Trilogy, book 3 of 3)

by French, Kitty

  “Tell me another time,” she murmured. She didn’t want to wring it out of him. She trusted him to tell her in his own good time. “There’s no rush.”

  He reached out then and traced his fingers down her face.

  “But…”

  Kara placed a finger over his lips. “Shh. Look around us.” She glanced around the tiny bay, at the glow of the fire, and then back to the incredible man beneath her. “We might never get this kind of perfect again.”

  Dylan’s eyes tracked around as Kara’s had, taking in all of the magical details. “Spectacularly right,” he said softly, and she turned her mouth into his hand and kissed his palm.

  The gesture was all it took to tip the emotionally charged conversation over the edge, sending it spiralling into back into the roiling deeps of desire. He gathered her against him and kissed her breathless with hot, hungry kisses that sent intense, sexual throbs shooting through her body. She didn’t just want him. She needed him in a way that bordered on primal.

  He shifted position when she reached for the button of his jeans, taking her with him and lying her down on her back, settling over her as he kicked his jeans off and ripped the silver foil on the condom.

  She swallowed hard around the sudden ache in her throat as he positioned himself, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her life. He paused then, lowering his head and closing his eyes to give her the slowest, sweetest of kisses as he held her hands in the cool sand beside her head.

  She heard the catch in his breath as he lowered his hips down onto hers, and the answering gasp in her own as he sank himself all the way inside her. Kara felt in that moment how intense pleasure could be almost painful: so excruciatingly, mind-numbingly good that it filled every cell with a fierce yearning for more, and for sweet, sweet release.

  She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders when he let go of her hands, and they moved in slow, sacred union.

  Kara opened her eyes. “I could love you, Dylan Day.”

  He kissed her again, open-mouthed, his hands in her hair. “I could love you too.”

  Lit by the firelight and bathed in the warmth of the deepest intimacy, they eased each other’s weary hearts with a meander through the best cocktail menu in the world.

  A supremely slow, comfortable screw.

  A gasping, mind-blowing orgasm.

  The most incredible sex on the beach ever.

  Chapter Twenty -Six

  Lucien poured wine first into Sophie’s glass and then into his own, watching her as she watched the sunset. They’d discovered the laid-back beach restaurant on their last visit to the island, a sultry open air place hewn from the rock with mellow music, fabulous cocktails and great food.

  “About being married, Sophie…”

  She turned her attention to him, and for a second her gentle smile and the sunset gleam on her bare shoulders made him forget the conversation he wanted to initiate and contemplate taking her home to fuck her instead.

  “What about it?”

  He dragged himself back to the matter in hand. “I don’t want it to change things.”

  Sophie smiled. She’d been half expecting this conversation; marriage had always been low on his agenda and she recognised that he feared what it would do to their relationship. She didn’t share his fears.

  “Lucien. We’ve been together for years. We have a child. Being married won’t change any of that.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you won’t let it, for starters.”

  He huffed under his breath. “I don’t want to start fucking in bed with the lights off once a month.”

  Laughter bubbled up in Sophie’s throat. “Okay. Twice a month, if you insist.”

  “I’m being fucking serious, Sophie. I see people get married and then, boom. It’s all gone. Tedium. Mundaneness.” He scowled. Or worse.”

  Sophie knew what he meant, but still his thoughts amused her. Lucien wouldn’t know how to be dull if he tried. He'd made the seismic shift into parenthood look easy. Being someone's husband would only serve to make him sexier still, and she intended on being an anything but routine wife.

  She slipped her high heel off underneath the table and ran her bare foot up his leg and into his crotch.

  “I solemnly promise not to let our marriage get dull, Lucien.”

  He caught hold of her ankle and massaged it, holding her foot against him. Around them, sun worshippers who’d gathered to drink cocktails and watch the sunset broke into spontaneous applause, and it took a second for Sophie to register that they were acknowledging the majesty of the sunset in the way that had become customary on the island rather than applauding her solemn promise to Lucien.

  “We can write our own vows if you like,” she offered, swirling her untouched wine around in her glass as she moved her toes against his hardening erection.

  “Tell me more,” he said, glancing downwards almost imperceptibly, meaning ‘Do it more’ as well.

  His arm lay along the low sand-hewn wall behind him, the open sea beyond that. To anyone else in the restaurant, he looked supremely relaxed; nonchalant even, despite the fact that he was sexually aroused. Pinprick fairylights lit up the inside of the rattan ceiling like a million tiny stars, and the ethereal sound of the wind chimes dotted around underscored the low, sexy jazz music. It all came together to create a bohemian vibe, a place to let go of inhibitions and chill out.

  “Well…” Sophie said, lazily rotating her foot, enjoying watching his poker face. She’d been thinking about their vows for a while. “I thought we could keep them as a surprise for each other. Kind of like a wedding present.”

  Lucien looked sceptical. “Are you going to promise to obey me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No. I quite enjoy it when you step out of line.” They both fell silent for a moment, remembering the handcuffs incident in Lucien's office.

  She smiled into her wine glass, then pushed it away and sipped from her tumbler of water, dragging herself back to the present. “Are you going to promise to obey me?”

  “Your wish is my command, Princess. You know that already.”

  Sophie mulled over his light-hearted words for a while as they gazed out at the scattering of glossy, illuminated yachts anchored off the bay. He wasn’t lying. He gave her everything she ever wanted and a whole lot more besides. A lifestyle way beyond anything she could have dreamt up for herself, and a love that filled every corner of her heart.

  “I went for a wedding dress fitting today,” she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

  “Is it sexy? I like sexy.”

  “I know you do,” she chided. “And yes, I think so. It’s also a little tighter than last time.”

  He looked unusually perplexed, and she left him hanging for a few seconds before she spoke again, savouring the words.

  “I’m pregnant, Lucien.”

  Sophie had grabbed a test that afternoon after trying on her bespoke wedding dress and finding her breasts uncomfortably restrained despite the careful tailoring. She watched his perplexed expression melt into a slow, incredulous, joyous smile. He dropped her ankle and slid around the alcove bench until he was beside her, one arm around her shoulders, the other cupping her face.

  “Sophie… are you sure?” he said, his shining eyes searching hers. He kissed her briefly as she nodded, then lifted his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Another baby. When?”

  "I'm about six weeks, I think." She dashed away a rogue tear from her lashes, unable to keep the smile from her lips.

  Lucien laid his hand over her stomach, and lifted his eyes to hers.

  “Are you happy?” she asked, quietly.

  He lowered his eyes and drew in a long breath. “You have no idea.”

  Sophie stroked his cheek. “I think I do.”

  He looked at her untouched wine glass, and then took it from the table in front of her and dropped it into the sea behind them.

  Sophie sighed. “You’re not
going to go all caveman on me again this time are you?” Even under usual circumstances Lucien was protective, but during her pregnancy with Tilly he’d gone into overdrive.

  “Yes.”

  He was totally uncompromising, and she loved him all the more for it.

  At the villa later that night, Lucien made slow love to Sophie until she trembled, and then slept with his head on her stomach, keeping watch over the newest love of his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dylan sat alone on the deck of the Love Tug a couple of weeks later, his eyes on the beach even though his mind was miles away. He’d tried to tell Kara the truth, he really had. The burden of lying sat heavily on his back. He’d gone over events a million times in his head, trying to make what he’d said and not said into less of a lie and more of a misunderstanding. But the plain truth was that there had been no misunderstanding. He’d invented a name because he didn’t want to be the person he’d always been, because he didn’t want all of the negative associations of his old life or the people in it.

  He’d lied to make his own life easier, and in the process he’d made other people’s lives more difficult. Lucien was lying for him, or at least covering for him. His mother was lying to anyone who asked where he’d gone. And then there was Kara.

  Kara, who’d given him so much of herself and asked only one thing of him in return. Honesty.

  He placed his empty beer bottle down on the table in front of him and pulled the battered brown envelope Justin had delivered towards him. Dog-eared and bent, it remained unopened, but Dylan had known all along what he’d find inside.

  His stomach turned over with clammy nerves as he picked at the edge of it.

  Papers.

  Legal papers.

  Divorce papers.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  To: mmk@toscanomail

  From: mollymk@tosacanomail

  Hello Matty,

  Hope the job’s still going well. I’m so sorry that Justin found you from my emails, I’d have warned you if I’d realised he was coming to find you. One day I’ll learn my lesson. It’s hard not to trust my own son.

  There’s something else you should know, love. Suzie was in town visiting her mother last week. Seems she’s having that baby real soon, and she was asking where to find you. I didn’t tell her of course, but Justin… I really hope he kept his mouth shut this time.

  I’m sure it’ll come to nothing, she’s gone again now back to whatever hellhole she crawled out of.

  Stay safe,

  Mom xx

  To: mollymk@toscanomail

  From: mmk@toscanomail

  Hi Mom,

  It wasn’t your fault that Justin came here, he is what he is. Just don’t wait for him to change, because hand on heart I don’t think it’s ever going to happen.

  Thanks for not telling Suzie where I am. She made her choice when she got herself pregnant with Donovan’s child, and I’ve made my choices here in Ibiza.

  I’m scared to even say it, but I’m real happy here, mom. The only thing I miss about the States is you.

  Love you.

  Matty

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “So, Dylan,” Kara said, admiring his ass as he turned to pour them both a shot of brandy. They’d locked up and seen the last of the staff out of the building after a long, busy night. They had the whole club to themselves before the cleaning team arrived in a few hours, and they were suddenly wide awake and ready for each other’s company. “A little bird tells me it’s your birthday today.”

  Dylan slid her glass over with a roll of his eyes. “Do they now?” He didn’t need to work very hard to figure out how she knew. “I might have to take a shotgun to that six foot something Norwegian little bird.” Keeping things simple, he’d used his real birth date on the employment paperwork he’d filled out for Lucien all those weeks back, never thinking anyone would trouble to mark the day here on Ibiza. He’d assumed it would slide under the radar, another unwelcome link to his real life. He guessed he hadn’t bargained for Lucien’s eye for detail.

  Kara slid off the stool, her drink in her hand. She was wearing another of her club work outfits, this time a strapless black dress that finished mid thigh and gave her a cleavage that Dylan couldn’t keep his eyes off. She worked it for his benefit, wriggling her shoulders as she loosened his tie and unpopped his top button. A slow, sensual fire licked low in her gut. He looked sexily dishevelled, like the late night bartender in all the best movies.

  “Come on birthday boy. Since you haven’t offered me a slice of your birthday cake, I thought you might like to choose yourself a present.”

  "No cake," he said. "I don't want you getting a sugar rush and passing out on me."

  She trailed his tie over her shoulder as she walked away, not turning because she knew he’d be behind her. She headed towards the boutique, but as they reached reception Dylan drew back, pinning her suddenly against the wall. He held her captive with his body, his hand braced on the bricks beside her head.

  “The only good thing about birthdays is the kisses,” he muttered into her open mouth, then kissed her hard and filthy and made her legs weak. She sank her fingernails into the firmness of his ass and yanked him deeper against her, wrapping her leg around his calf.

  “I could fuck you now, right here against this wall,” he whispered, putting his hand up her skirt and rubbing her through the silk of her knickers. “Rip these panties right off and slide my cock inside you.” He pulled the silk to one side and pushed his fingers into her folds. He wasn’t delicate, but it didn’t matter because he was a man who knew exactly how to touch a woman. Who knew when to take it slow, and when to come on hard. He found her clitoris without preamble. “You like that, English? You want me to get you off?” He licked into her mouth and slid his fingers inside her, making her yelp. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  But… no!

  It was his birthday, and from somewhere in the recesses of her mind she dredged the recollection that she wanted to be the giver first, not the receiver. But with every nerve ending in her body wanting the orgasm he was offering her, it was a Herculean task to put the brakes on.

  “Dylan…” she regretfully unwound her leg from his and pushed lightly against his chest. He lifted his head a fraction, his hand still between her legs.

  “I want to give you something for your birthday first,” she managed, breathless and almost boneless as his fingers stopped thrusting but carried on caressing.

  “Watching you come is all I want,” he whispered, playing his fingertips over her clitoris, his body up close and sensual against hers, his breath in her mouth.

  She wanted to come. Really wanted to. She was being pinned against the wall by the man who rocked her world, and he was doing things with his fingers that were probably illegal in several countries. She’d never wanted to come that much in her entire life.

  Since the last time, at least.

  Dylan’s eyes told her that he really wanted her to come too. They were hot, urgent and mesmerizing, locked on hers.

  He pressed his weight harder against her, hitching her thighs apart with his own.

  “I’ll stop if you want. Just say the word.”

  She wanted to say the word. He licked her lips, his fingers sliding in the slick juices between her legs. She wanted to come. No. She wanted him to come first.

  “Don’t fight me, baby,” he murmured, and Kara felt the beginnings of her orgasm glitter in her veins.

  She didn’t want to fight him. She was seconds away from not being able to fight him.

  Stop. Don’t stop. Never stop…

  “Stop,” she croaked, pushing him hard enough to dislodge his hand. Her body cried out for him to come back, but he nodded with a slow, quizzical look and straightened her skirt over her thighs.

  “You were so close,” he said, pulling her near again. “Drenched.”

  She moved, restless. “It’s your birthday. You first.”

  “You English and your impecca
ble manners.”

  Kara breathed out shakily. “Trust me, Sailor. I’m right behind you in the queue.”

  Chapter Thirty

  A couple of minutes later, Kara stood in the centre of the softly lit boutique and twirled slowly on her heel with her arms spread wide. She felt a little more in control of herself now they were on her professional territory.

  “Take your pick, birthday boy. Anything you like, my treat.”

  “One of everything,” Dylan said, not even glancing around. “Now take your dress off and let me back between your legs. My birthday, my rules. I say you come first.”

  Okay, maybe not quite in control.

  The urge to strip and open her legs was really quite overpowering. She swallowed hard and moved to stand behind a glass counter for safety. He followed, standing in front of the counter with his head slightly to one side.

  Kara looked down and tapped her fingernails on the glass, deciding what to offer him first.

  He splayed his hands on the countertop, amused, ceding to her will for the moment.

  “Okay. So what would you recommend, English?” His eyebrows flicked up and a lazy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

  She reached out and slowly unknotted his tie, tugging it from around his neck as she reached into the glass cabinet for a black leather riding crop.

  “Do I get to take your clothes off too?”

  “Not yet.” She stroked the end of the crop down her neck, closing her eyes as she moved it across the swell of her breasts.

  “That would look even sexier if you lost the dress,” Dylan said, his voice rich, deep and very, very interested.

  Kara licked her lips, contemplating his suggestion. He was right, of course. She rounded the counter and presented her back to him, turning to glance suggestively over her shoulder. “Unzip me?”