Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  Tina flipped her hair over her shoulder with confidence and flashed Luke a radiant smile as he escorted them to their table. She was dressed in a daring, strapless, couture gown, the soft mint green stunning against her sultry skin.

  Seconds after they were seated, Rachel became aware of Alain’s intent eyes on her from the far corner of the room. Her heart jumped at the sight of his tall, muscular frame. He was dressed in a tailored black dinner jacket, his bronzed face contrasting with the pristine white of his formal shirt. He smiled and struck out across the room toward their table with long, easy strides.

  “You look lovely tonight, Rachel,” he said with a husky note in his voice. Rachel smiled up at Alain, and then turned to Tina and Luke.

  “Alain, this is my dear friend Tina and her husband, Luke.”

  Alain greeted them with a warm smile.

  “Please, sit,” Luke invited, and Alain took a seat at next to Rachel. “Was your driver hurt?” he directed at Luke.

  “Just his confidence. But the mental challenge to come back in the next race will be tough on him,” Luke replied, and Rachel reveled at the ease with which Alain found a common connection to get the conversation started.

  As they settled into the rhythm of light conversation, Rachel noticed the effect of Alain’s charismatic personality on Tina and Luke. Light laugher soon rang from their table, and when Alain excused himself to see to his guests, it was with a sense of shared disappointment from all at their table.

  “My guests must think I have deserted them, but I will be back to call on you for our dance,” Alain promised before he left. Rachel suddenly wished the servers would hurry along with the evening’s dinner.

  Eyes downturned, Tina sat in silence opposite her. Rachel noticed the teasing smile on her lips. “Yes, and what now?” Rachel asked.

  Tina toiled with the seared scallops starter in front of her. “Alain’s a fascinating man,” she said, leaving the statement hanging.

  Rachel sat back, inclining her head as if surprised by Tina’s comment. “He sure is. What do you think, Luke?”

  Luke looked up at her from his plate. “Certainly. I believe he owns a couple of exotic vintage cars. Wouldn’t mind having a peek at his garage one day.”

  “Men … ” Tina mouthed at Rachel and shook her head in mock amazement.

  By the time the servers hauled in the elaborate cheese trolleys, the performing four-piece band had succeeded in warming up the crowd with a couple of well-executed numbers. Alain made his way over to their table and laid a light hand on her chair back.

  “A man of my word.” He held his hand out to her.

  She stood from her chair with controlled grace, but her heart was racing. She tensed at the pleasure of his touch on her arm as he guided her to the dance floor. Strong arms encircled her body with a familiar confidence, and then they glided across the floor. She shivered with excitement. He truly was a gracious dancer and he steered them with skill and confidence through the crowd.

  Pleasure rippled over her skin at the sensual touch of his warm hand on her bare back, and she relaxed, enjoying the closeness of their bodies as they moved together. She reveled at the easy balance of his muscular frame and was just beginning to lose herself in the sensual haze of music and movement when the dance ended.

  “That didn’t really count as a dance,” he suggested and took her in his arms again when the next song started. The band had increased the tempo, and soon Alain had them sweeping across the floor in flowing, graceful arcs.

  As they flitted over the dance floor, Rachel found herself distracted by the latent strength in his shoulders and upper torso, the warmth from his body. With a light frown she willed herself to concentrate on the intricate dance routine Alain had them executing.

  That’s better, she thought and focused on her dancing, but then, while her hand rested lightly on the nape of his back, she had difficulty restraining herself from playing with a tangle of his long hair tickling her fingers.

  Get a grip on yourself, Rachel.

  Her heart raced to a healthy rush as the pace of their dancing increased, and she started breathing deeper, matching the slow, strong rhythm of Alain’s breathing. He was fit and strong, and she enjoyed the closeness of his male strength as they swirled across the parquet flooring.

  The band started another slow, romantic song, and he pulled her tighter to his body. She gasped at the intimate closeness of their bodies. Her hand trembled, but she slid it higher up on his back. Inhaling his manly warmth, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. His hand traced down her spine and she sighed softly.

  Song after song, they enjoyed the thrill of dancing, their bodies locked in rhythm to the pulse of the music, oblivious to their surroundings.

  I’ve never desired a man more — does he feel the same?

  Time stood still.

  The band stopped, and Alain led Rachel to a table on the balcony to enjoy the cool, fresh air. He leaned forward to say something, but then looked up with mild surprise when a server approached their table with an apprehensive request to clear the table.

  Surprised, she glanced at her watch. Alain’s mouth drew in a tight line of disappointment, but he stood from the table. He extended his hand to her. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Nine

  The elaborate ballroom was quiet and almost deserted as they walked out. At the door, Rachel turned for Alain to drape her shawl. His hand briefly stroked her bare shoulder, and she caught her breath at the electric sensation of his touch.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” Alain said, his voice husky.

  The ride up in the small, brightly lit elevator was awkward. It came to a jerky halt on her level and she stepped out with some relief into the dim lighting of the passage. Her throat tightened at the close presence of Alain at her side as they walked down the wide hallway, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

  They reached her room and she tried to hide the quiver in her hands as she slotted the electronic key into the door. Alain stood, close to her, his breathing stroking the fine hair in the nape of her neck. The door clicked open with a soft buzz, and she turned to face him. His closeness made her shiver involuntary. She swallowed, unable to speak. She didn’t want the evening to end yet — she didn’t want to say good night.

  He reached over her shoulder, and with one hand, he pushed the door open. Without saying a word, they stepped inside. The door shut by itself and Alain stepped forward and took her in his arms. He cupped her face in his hand, willing her to look deep into his eyes.

  “Alain … ” But then he kissed her tenderly and her resistance faltered. Her whole body ached and urged her to accept this, but her mind raced to find the words to stop this assault on her senses.

  Alain slipped the shawl from her shoulders, stroking the skin of her bare back. Strong fingers trailed down the curves of her body and she pushed herself against his deep chest at the pleasure of it.

  She closed her eyes and lost herself in his clean, muscular aroma — the warmth radiating from his strong body. Her starved body took control, craving more of the pleasurable sensations — sensations she had not enjoyed for years. Too late, she realized she couldn’t turn back from this path. With strange objectivity, ignoring the alarm bells clanging in her ears, Rachel surrendered, her body accepting the pleasure of his touch.

  Oh, please, I can’t stop this — don’t want to stop this, she thought, knowing her feeble struggle was faltering, weakened by the passion growing deep inside her.

  Alain slipped his jacket from his shoulders, and, lifting her without effort, he carried her to the bed. Their lips still locked, he lowered her onto the bed. Her breathing became rushed, and little gasps escaped her lips every time his hands touched her bare flesh.

  With skillful hands he unclipped her gown and slid it from her shoulders
, exposing her breasts. Strong fingers slowly traced her naked skin, and Rachel closed her eyes, lost in the exquisite sensation of her skin coming alive to his touch. Then, ever so gently, Alain cupped her breast, his hand gently squeezing. She moaned aloud as his hot breath stroked her bare breast, the warmth so close to her hardened nipple. Tender lips touched her exposed nipple, and she arched her body, moaning with deep pleasure, her head tilted back.

  With practiced hands, he lifted her hips and slipped her gown from underneath her. She heard his sharp inhale at the sight of her near-nakedness as he stared down at her. Lust burned in his eyes.

  With urgent fingers, she started ripping at the buttons of Alain’s shirt, exposing his golden skin, warm to her touch. She raked her nails lightly down the hard, contoured shape of his chest, leaving long trails of reddened skin. Goose bumps lit up like wildfire on his shoulders.

  The need to have him close to her overwhelmed her, and she reached for his shoulders, drawing him closer to her. Alain lowered himself next to her, supporting his weight on one elbow, and she started at his warm arousal, hard and urgent, against her thigh. A strong hand traced the curve of her breast, then down her quivering ribs, to pause briefly on her hips. Gently he parted her legs with his hand. His fingers traced the delicate lace patterns of her thong. She closed her eyes, and, reaching for Alain, she urged him closer. He shifted onto her, sliding his hips firmly between her legs. She arched her body at the pleasure of his hard arousal against her. Her eyes fluttered and she raised her head, seeking his lips. She moaned as their lips touched. Their tongues tangled and her arousal spiked.

  Alain nipped her bottom lip once. Then he nibbled softly at the sensitive flesh in her neck, working his way down to her breasts. With sudden realization at what would come, Rachel held her breath, waiting. His lowered his head to her scantily covered womanhood, his tongue tracing the embroidered flowers of white lace. Her pelvis arched in response. With some impatience, he removed her thong and lowered his face to her curly mound of hair.

  Her breathing shuddered, almost sobbed with anticipation, and she grabbed a fistful of his thick, black hair — not to stop him, but to hold his lovely head there. She sensed him, his warm breath whispering on her most tender flesh, pausing, teasing, the anticipation driving her mad. He spread her thighs wider and she inhaled sharply, her taut body shivering in want. He lowered his head and then, as his lips touched the warm moistness between her legs, the air exploded from her chest.

  With a slow, growing urgency, his tongue stroked her, and she started floating, drifting on a soft cloud at the pleasure of it. She moaned deeply, grinding her pelvis upwards, wanting more, seeking that glorious tongue in her.

  Alain’s hand slid upwards, his palm hard on her flat stomach, pausing momentarily on her heaving ribs before he captured her left breast, caressing it until she rolled her shoulder in ecstasy to his touch. He took a nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed softly and she inhaled sharply with pleasure.

  With delicate fingers he opened her swollen, ready lips further, exposing her to the full wickedness of his clever tongue, darting and flicking into her until a soft, agonized cry escaped her heaving body. She thrashed her arms on the pillows beside her, and then bundled a fistful of the white cotton sheets in her hands, drowning slowly in the magic of his touch. Her back arched in spasm and her naked body slithered and twisted on the bed.

  Suddenly his finger slid into her, stroking her, raising her to a new level of almost unbearable pleasure. She gasped aloud when he took her full, pulsating arousal into his hot mouth, sucking hard and urgent. His tongue stroked her, urging her on, until her aroused womanhood throbbed with a pulsating life of its own, tightening on his finger inside her. A deep warmth flooded her body as Alain coaxed the desire captured inside to burst out and take flight. Her hands clawed at the taut muscles in his shoulders, and then the tide took her, lifting her higher — unstoppable. Without warning the wave spilled over Rachel, crushing the air from her chest and her body exploded in orgasm.

  “Alain, Alain!” she cried out while spasms rippled through her body, the rush of ecstasy so intense tears welled in her eyes. Waves of pleasure washed repeatedly over her and momentarily shut down her other senses — no sound, no sight. She thrashed her head from side to side, in absolute silence, biting down on her lip; and then slowly, almost painfully, the wave receded, leaving her trembling and sated on the bed, gasping for air.

  With patience, Alain waited in silence until she was ready. Then he came onto all fours, raw lust burning hot in his dark eyes, his own erection rock hard in readiness for entering her body. Tantalizing, teasing her further, he ran his wicked tongue along her flat stomach toward her navel. Then, abruptly, he froze, a dark frown on his forehead. With his right hand, he touched the fine scar on her stomach, inspecting it with intense attention in the soft light.

  “This is from a cesarean,” he said, rather than asked, his voice gruff.

  “Yes,” Rachel answered hesitantly, confused by the sudden change in his behavior. Alain jerked upright from the bed.

  “You have a child,” he stated in measured words and stepped back.

  “T-two.” She cringed, frightened by the dark shock on his face.

  “One question.” His palms were raised in front of him as if fending off an attack. He swallowed visibly. “No buts, ifs, or ands. Just a straight answer.” His voice grumbled like low thunder, a warning to do exactly as he commanded.

  She nodded agreement in silence and clasped her hand over her mouth in shock. What is happening here?

  Alain glared at her, breathing heavily as she waited on his question. “Are you married?” His dark question resonated in measured words.

  “Yes, but — ”

  “No buts, I said!” he shouted at her, his eyes now flashing black in anger. Or was it disgust? Alain glared at her for a second, fire flashing in his dark eyes. With uncontrolled anger, he flung a pillow across the room, toppling the large vase of roses on the stand. Glass shards sprayed in all directions while water ran slowly from the stand and dripped onto the carpet.

  Then he turned, a bunched fist to his forehead, and stood in silence for a second. With a grunt, he snatched his shirt from the floor and snapped it on violently. He grabbed his dinner jacket and stormed from her room without looking back. The door closed behind him with a final thud.

  Rachel flinched when the door slammed close behind Alain. Uncontrollable shivers ran through her body and she was chilled to the bone. Dazed, she took in the room, barely noticing the long-stemmed white roses lying scattered in the pooled water on the stand or the shards of glass covering the floor. Hurt and angry, she flung another pillow across the room.

  “You presumptuous bastard!” she yelled in helpless frustration, adrenalin rushing through her veins. “How arrogant you are — no buts, ifs, or ands. What do you know about my life?”

  She had been separated from Stuart for more than three years. Three years of no intimacy, no contact and no financial support.

  “I’m raising two kids on my own whilst rebuilding my career, you insensitive oaf.”

  Just as suddenly the anger left her. She slumped back onto the bed like a rag doll. He’d discarded her like a cheap toy. The familiar emptiness of rejection overwhelmed her, and she rolled onto her side and curled her long legs under her chin in a fetal position. The duvet was still warm from the heat of their bodies, where minutes ago they were locked in intimacy.

  She shut her eyes, but knew sleep would avoid her for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Ten

  In the far distance, over the Mediterranean Sea, the eastern sky was painted in a light, pre-dawn mauve as day eagerly awaited the sun’s majestic ascent. Soon the bright, golden light of the sun would burn off the wisps of mist hanging low over the calm waters of the Monaco yacht basin.

  For more than an hour, R
achel sat in the window seat, motionless. Her knees pulled tight into her chest and her body stiff from not moving, she stared vacantly at the scene unfolding in front of her through reddened eyes. The cup of coffee at her feet sat cold and forgotten.

  Predictably, sleep had avoided her for most of the evening, her only companion being the raw, wounded feeling in her chest — a painful reminder of the events that had played out on the luxury bed behind her.

  She shook her head in quiet disbelief, trying once again, to process the hurt inside her. That dreadful drop into a deep, dark pit that came with rejection was all too familiar. The thought was drilled through her heart like a crude spear, once again at the hand of a man she’d allowed too close to her.

  His violent behavior from last night circled like dark demons in the room, ready to assault her fragile mind the moment she dropped her defenses. Although she had replayed his cruel behavior over and over in her head, she still couldn’t find a way to dull the pain it caused — the pain of total rejection.

  Once again, a man had chosen to turn his back on her. And once again she’d allowed herself to be exposed to that hurt. The deep wound of disappointment brought on by Stuart’s departure three years ago was slashed wide open again.

  A shudder ran down her body at the thought of the many nights she lay awake in bed, hurt and afraid. No, terrified. Terrified of not being a good parent, terrified of not being able to pay the rent, terrified of being alone.

  Suddenly a cold anger rose in her. The past hours of pain and sadness turned to a white-hot heat as she pushed the feelings of rejection away.

  “Who do you think you are, you pompous hypocrite?” she shouted at the ceiling, her fists balled in frustration. With a vicious swipe of her hand, she flung the coffee cup crashing against the wall. Brown liquid ran in ugly stains down the luxurious wallpaper.