by Calia Read
Out of everyone at this table, I didn’t think I’d look forward to speaking with Bradley. Turns out we have more in common than I thought. Resting my elbows on the table, I lean in. “And to keep that investor, you do everything short of donating a kidney.”
“Oh, I think I have before,” Bradley replies with a straight face.
His joke sends ripple effects of laughter around the table, and as our chuckles fade, I focus my attention on the person who began the conversation. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are a history professor, yes?”
Daniel takes a long sip of his drink before he nods his head. “I am, I am. You wouldn’t happen to be a history buff, would you?”
Daniel’s tone is flat as he asks his question. In his mind, he already knows the answer, but he’s indulging his only daughter and pretending to be nice for tonight.
“Actually, I am. You can’t live in the Holy City and not have some attachment to history.”
At that, Daniel appears shocked. Even her brothers are shocked by my admission.
“Dad,” Serene interjects. “You already know Étienne enjoys history. I told you the day you met Étienne that we met at an antique show over a year ago.”
“Well, I must’ve forgotten. I believe I was more focused on the fact my daughter is engaged to a virtual stranger. Is there a specific era you enjoy?”
“I love history in general, but it’s truly the early 1900s on that are fascinatin’ to me.”
Serene pretends to itch her nose, but it’s only to hide her smile. I’m almost tempted to kick her underneath the table the way she does to me.
“What is so intriguing to you about the 1900s?”
“The economic growth that occurred during what I believe is called The Gilded Age is frankly incalculable.”
“And how do you figure?”
“You have the railroad, factories, and various endeavors.”
Daniel nods his head thoughtfully. “But it wasn’t without its corruption. There was monopoly in many companies such as Standard Oil and—”
“Oh, I agree,” I cut in.
I don’t need a history lesson on Standard Oil. The very name causes me to wince and think of the accident that I lost my parents and brother to.
“With every great rise, there are consequences and mistakes to be made.”
“That’s a good point,” Ian remarks. “Care for a rebuttal, Dad?”
When I look at the rest of the table, everyone is staring back and forth between Daniel and me. Serene has an amused expression on her face. She knows I’m not upset by this. I love a good conversation that makes me think.
“Perhaps one of the greatest mistakes in engineering in the early 1900s would be the Titanic.”
I’d be a fool not to make a remark about the Titanic. Serene mentioned her father had a deep infatuation with the sinking ship. And even though that was when we first met, I hope he still has some small fascination. I can use my firsthand knowledge about the sunken ship to find common ground with him.
Judging from the way his eyes light up, I’d say I said the correct thing. He leans in. “I find the Titanic tragic and fascinating. Don’t you?”
With ease, I nod. Especially when it comes to the tragic part. “As you already know, Serene is big on family trees.”
Daniel grins. “Gets it from me.”
I smile back. “She encouraged me to look through mine, and I discovered correspondence letters between my … I mean, a distant relative and Jack Astor.”
“You mean John Jacob Astor who died on the Titanic?”
I nod.
“Is that so?”
Serene nods along all the while looking at me with shock. Why is she so amazed that I’m capable of such a lie?
“That’s remarkable. It’s amazing what we can find in the past if we dig hard enough.”
I lift my glass of water as though I’m holding a brandy. Automatically, Daniel raises his drink. “I believe you just made a toast!”
Laughing, Daniel’s glass clinks against my own. We continue to talk about history and his favorite eras until the food arrives at our table. I carry on our discussion on what led to the Great Depression, something I know very little about, when Daniel gestures to my plate. “No, no, eat. We can resume our conversation later.”
There’s no flat tone in Daniel’s voice or harshness in his expression. He’s not outright smiling at me, but I know I’ve made progress with him.
Before I begin eating, Serene and I exchange glances. She gives me a wink as though she knew her father and I would correct our footing.
Serene isn’t the only person who can mix fact with fiction. But the problem with false truths is if you tell them enough, soon you won’t be able to recognize reality even when it’s in front of you …
“I do believe that went well.”
Étienne’s tone is calm, but his grin is cocky. Slipping off my jacket, I watch as he shuts the bedroom door behind him.
“It was a good dinner,” I confirm. I sit on the side of the bed and watch Étienne. “What do you think about my brothers?”
“They are upstandin’,” he answers as he concentrates on unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt. He doesn’t wear cuff links like he would in his time, but I can imagine him placing them on my dresser. Once his sleeves are loose, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his usual blasé and confident energy. It never ceases to amaze me how he can warp his environment to his wants and needs and not the other way around.
“Upstandin’?” I repeat, mimicking his Southern accent and failing miserably.
“Yes. I did not expect them to be kind to me at the beginnin’. They should be protective of their sister. I am the same with Nat.”
“Who you? Never!” I say, feigning surprise.
I make myself comfortable by stretching my body out on the mattress and use my hand to support my head. Étienne sheds his shirt, and I’m hypnotized by the material falling from his shoulders.
No matter the era, Étienne held a finesse and virility that would never be duplicated. He was my heart, and my family finally had the chance to meet him.
I needed this night more than I realized.
“I can tell they liked you,” I say quietly.
“Is that so?”
Étienne gives me his perfect smile. Twice in one night. Sitting up on my knees, I scoot to the edge of the bed and hold out my arms. “Come here.”
Heat fills his eyes as he steps closer. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and guide him to me. Willingly, he opens his mouth. It was meant to be a sweet kiss, a happy kiss because tonight went far better than I expected. I know Étienne enjoyed himself, and I love that.
But who am I kidding? When have Étienne and I ever been able to touch each other and stop? This heady attraction between us is intoxicating. Sometimes, it’s all I can think about. My hands glide toward his strong shoulders. I take my time, kneading his defined traps.
Before the kiss can go any further and my hands can continue their perusal, Étienne dislodges himself, shooting a look at the locked door. Finally, his eyes meet mine. By the cautious gleam there, you’d think he’s scared of me.
“Afraid?” I scoot to the edge of the bed, my knees digging into the mattress.
Étienne backs up, his butt slamming into the dresser. Without breaking eye contact, he curls his hands around the edge of the dresser. “No.”
“I can be quiet.”
“You are never quiet. I’m certain you don’t know the meaning of quiet.”
“Well, come fuck me and find out how quiet I can be,” I reply, arching my brow.
Étienne remains stoic as he stares at me, but his white-knuckled grip on the dresser shows how much restraint he’s using to keep the space between us.
The air around us nearly crackles. Dear Lord, if he doesn’t eat the distance between us, then I will.
I make one last attempt to draw him in with my words. “Are you expecting me to believe you won’t have se
x with me the entire time you’re here because you’re afraid I can’t be quiet?”
Said out loud, it’s absurd. Just a simple look from him feels like a caress.
From the frown knitting Étienne’s brows, I know my question has him thinking twice. He crosses his arms and pushes away from the dresser. He doesn’t walk to me. “I’m not sayin’ that.”
“It certainly feels that way.”
“I’m not afraid. Might I remind you, I tried you in a closet durin’ my little sister’s weddin’ reception? While a number of servants or guests could have found us?”
“So try again,” I retort.
Sparring with Étienne with words does wonderful things to me. My mind races, anxious to hear what he’ll say next. My body hums with excitement, and I become hyper-aware of every step Étienne makes. I know it’s the same for him.
Étienne stubbornly stays put, and I sigh, place my feet on the floor, and stand. “Fine. Be that way. I’m getting ready for bed.”
Warily, he watches as I walk past him, almost as though he’s waiting for me to do something. When I don’t, he almost appears disappointed. I smirk and turn on the bathroom light.
Oh, it is so on, I think as I shut the door.
I open the bathroom cabinet where I hid a bag behind a neat pile of bath towels. Inside are the items I saw online and rush ordered. Quickly, I change out of my clothes, creating a pile on the floor.
First, I slip on the G-string. Then, I grab the black lace babydoll, place both feet in, and then shimmy the material up my body, drawing my arms through the straps. The hem barely skims the top of my thighs. I reach around to where the tie laces hold the back together and adjust the straps on my shoulders, then the thin underwire of the bra, which makes my breasts nice and perky. The rest of the bra is in a scalloped-edge design and see-through.
When I’m done, I look in the mirror. Étienne liked my bras a lot in the past, so I think it’s safe to say this should get his attention.
I hesitate at the door before I take a deep breath, grab the handle, and walk into the room as though I’m wearing my normal oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. I’ve only been out of the room for a few minutes, but Étienne has stretched out across the bed. He’s so tall, his feet nearly hang off the end. He’s so busy trying to figure out how to use the remote that he doesn’t notice me at first.
Once I pull back the sheets and place a knee on the bed, he gives me a courtesy glance. His mouth is open, almost as if he’s getting ready to say good night, but then he does a double take. The remote slips out of his hand and drops to the bed.
Suddenly, he bolts upright. “What is this?” he croaks.
“Pajamas,” I say casually as I sit down. I look over at him and smile. “Night.”
Slack jaw, Étienne, who’s never been more alert, shakes his head. “That is not pajamas.”
I lift a shoulder, noticing Étienne hasn’t lifted his gaze from my tits since I sat down. I begin to gather the sheets up to my waist, but Étienne stops me. “Where did you get this attire?”
“It’s called lingerie, Étienne. And I bought it days ago. What do you think?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as his gaze travels up and down my body. The fire in his eyes makes me forget that the intent of wearing this was to entice him.
“Étienne?” I whisper. I shift forward, knowing full well my tits are threatening to spill out. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s becomin’ incredibly hard to keep my hands to myself.”
“Then don’t.”
“What if I hurt you?” He reaches over, his massive hand settling on my lower stomach. Above my underwear, a small belly is beginning to protrude. It’s nothing noticeable. Hell, even Étienne doesn’t notice. Only I can see and feel the subtle changes in my body.
I arch a brow. “The baby’s itty bitty. It’s not going to reach out of my uterus and grab your dick.”
“Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with a woman like you, and then you speak,” Étienne says dryly.
“Imagine if I was quiet and had no opinions.”
The corner of his mouth curls upward. “My life would be incredibly dull.”
Reaching out, I hook two fingers around the belt loops of his pants and draw him forward until his shoulder touches mine, and the tips of my breasts brush against his chest. They become achingly tender and heavy, begging for his touch. I lick my lips, making my intentions clear, and he groans as he dips his head.
“Tu es une femme dangereuse,” Étienne says in a low voice.
“Just shut up and kiss me.”
Étienne obliges, giving me short kisses that merely offer me a taste. But as the seconds tick by and he refuses to surrender, I let a frustrated moan slip out of my mouth.
There’s always this degree of passion in his kisses that can never be contained, and I need that. Desperately. The intensity of the emotion seeps out of his lips and fingertips. Skin-to-skin contact becomes electric, and all thoughts fly out the window. However, Étienne is intentionally holding back. Gently, I nibble on his bottom lip, trying to get him to open his mouth, but he remains stubborn. I move my focus away from his mouth and kiss my way down the strong column of his neck.
“Serene—”
“This is a big building, Étienne,” I pant. I settle my palms on the bed and lift my body a fraction from his. “Solid walls. I promise no one will hear a damn thing.”
Étienne is still uncertain and still nervous he’s going hurt the baby once we start fucking. I can handle him.
Leisurely, I slide my body down the edge of the bed until my knees hit the floor. Propped up by his hands, Étienne watches me with a hungry yet nervous expression. With a gentle push, I spread his long legs apart and crawl between them. My hands settle at his knees and begin the slow trek upward as I speak. “You can’t tell me that while you were sitting behind your desk at Belgrave you never once thought of me kneeling between your legs and sucking your dick.”
He becomes perfectly still. I reach the fly of his jeans and meet his gaze. “Étienne, tell me I’m lying.”
His nostrils flared, his mouth is in a tight line, and his cheeks are already red. And we haven’t even begun.
The corner of my mouth lifts. I unbutton his jeans and lower his zipper, tugging his pants low enough to admire the deep V line abs. I would trace the indentations with my tongue if I had the time, but right now, I’m intent on removing his clothes as quickly as possible. Curling my fingers around the waistband of his boxers, I arch my brows, making my intentions clear.
Étienne lifts his hips long enough for me to pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles.
My hands curl around his knees. Patiently, I wait. “You haven’t answered me. Am I lying?”
“No.”
When I look at him from beneath my lashes, he’s closed his eyes and lifted his head to the ceiling. His jaw is clenched, and when I take him deeper, he nearly roars as his hips lift from the bed. Every dominant inch of Étienne’s body is mine and made for me. And right now, I’m afforded the best view of him. From here, I can see each deep groove of his abs, leading up to his defined pecs.
I sit up tall in order to give long pulls. The floor makes my knees ache, but it doesn’t matter because Étienne’s thighs are practically shaking. His fingers sink into my hair, curling around the root and tugging. He’s trying to take control.
I gauge how close he’s to coming by how much he switches between English and French, and the grip on my hair. I forget all about the challenge to get Étienne to lose control. My body begins to tingle as my fingers curl around the edge of the mattress for balance. I know what’s coming and all too happily chase the feeling.
“Serene.” My name tears from his throat.
Abruptly, I pull back. My lips making a soft popping sound. Étienne’s panting while I can’t stop smiling. “Was it good?”
Instead of answering, Étienne lunges at me like a madman. I love this side of him. Live for it. One larg
e hand curls around the back of my head and pulls me close. My eyes meet his, and the fire there is enough to take my breath away. “Why ask somethin’ you know the answer to?” he growls.
Étienne doesn’t give me a chance to reply. His lips slant over my mine, and his tongue invades my mouth. Foreplay has unleashed the wild, barbaric side. It’s always blood-tingling and heart pounding.
Slowly, I begin to stand from the floor. The entire time, our lips never part. Before I have a chance to wrap myself around Étienne, he curls his arms around me, locking me in a tight embrace, and flings me onto the bed.
Our lips only separate for seconds before they’re back where they belong. His powerful body covers mine, and my hands curl around the underside of his arms to grip his shoulders. Corded muscles jump beneath my touch.
His hands begin at my stomach and move upward. His fingers curl around each strap, and he slowly glides his fingers up and down, creating delicious friction and torturing me in the process, before he abruptly tugs, ripping the fine lace covering my chest. With my breasts exposed, he wastes no time. His hands curve around them while his lips curl around a nipple. Moaning, I close my eyes. Abandoning his shoulders, I lace my fingers through his hair and none too gently tug at the strands.
He creates a deliriously wonderful suction that’s punishment for torturing him while I was on my knees. When he switches breasts, I squirm in anticipation. I arch my lower body against him, knowing he can feel how wet I am. Gently, he bites down on the tip of my nipple, causing me to gasp.
When I can’t take much more, he lifts his head. The intensity in his eyes reflects in his actions. With his fingers spread across my lower back and his body vibrating with energy, I’ve never felt safer. Leaning forward, I graze my nose against the slope of his neck.
“Let’s try something new,” I say, panting.
Étienne pulls back. His eyes hold a candle of curiosity. “New?” Deviously, I smirk and walk my fingers up his chest. “There’s more than the missionary position, you know.”
He wraps his hand around two of my fingers and tilts his head to the side. “And how do you know?” I love the thread of jealousy that finds its way into his words.
