His hand touched the skin of her cheek, and then, slowly, he raised her head with a tender finger under her chin to meet his gaze. She lifted her eyes to his, and she froze, catching her breath at the intensity of his eyes.
He pulled her closer, wrapping strong arms around her, and Rachel leaned her head on his chest. She closed her eyes at the warmth of his body, listening to the strong beat of his heart.
“Alain — ”
“Ssshhh … .let me show you how we’ll take this further.” He silenced her gently and lowered his head, his lips stroking her forehead tenderly. She looked up at him and his mouth found hers, his tongue probing softly. A hushed sigh escaped her. Tension dissipated from her body as Rachel relaxed, and she leaned back in his arms, enjoying the soft touch of Alain’s hand on her throat. His tongue skimmed the inside of her warm mouth, flicking over her teeth.
A soft moan came from her when he pulled her closer, and her breasts hardened. With more urgency, his tongue swirled in her mouth, warm and smooth, searching for more, and she gasped, dizzy from lack of air.
The world spun uncontrollably as he pressed his hard torso against her, his arousal strong and warm against her thigh. Her eyelids fluttered helplessly, painting flashes of hot red and white, and she grabbed a fistful of his black hair to steady herself. She shifted her lower body, grinding into Alain, the hot closeness of his sex driving her to bite on his lower lip.
Alain sucked in his breath at the unexpected pain, and with his right hand grabbed Rachel’s upper thigh and pulled her upwards into him. Her body arched, and her head flopped back, leaving him to explore her neck, nibbling softly on her skin. His jacket slid from her shoulders to the ground. Shivers of pleasure rippled in waves down her body and she groaned again, this time with more passion.
The sound of the bell in the clock tower exploded above them, loudly ringing once. Rachel’s eyes shocked wide open and she breathed in sharply, letting her hand slide down Alain’s back and stepping out of his embrace.
“It’s late.” Her voice was shaky and heavy with lust. “You’d better go.”
“You’re killing me here, Rachel,” Alain replied hoarsely. Clearing his throat, he demanded, “When can I see you again?”
She picked up Alain’s forgotten jacket from the stone steps and held it out to him. “Well, you’re driving me back tomorrow morning, aren’t you? And you always know where to find me on Monday,” she added with a playful smile and stepped back slowly as she started making her way up the stairs to the hotel entrance.
“No — you know what I mean.” He groaned deeply.
Rachel looked down at the magnificent being standing at the foot of the stairs, jacket draped casually over his shoulder, wearing an inviting smile.
“Want to come for dinner?” she challenged him.
“Yes … ” he responded quickly, and then suggested carefully, “ … then I can also spend time with the kids.”
“You’ll have to be there early then,” she warned him, almost at the top of the stairs.
“Won’t miss it for anything in the world.”
“Tomorrow evening, six o’clock.”
Alain smiled brightly, turned and headed back in the direction of the yacht harbor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He looked up to see the petite figure of a little girl walking carefully down the stone steps toward him — one step at a time. She was dressed in a bright yellow summer dress, billowing out from her hips and reaching just below her knees. A single, printed blue flower on her chest added a colorful touch, and her hair was pinned back with a collection of decorative floral pins.
At her heels followed two large Beaucerons, their pink tongues lolling from the side of their mouths in the heat. She came to a stop next to his vehicle. Alain leaned forward, tilting his head to look at her from under the Maserati’s low roofline.
“You’re Alain,” she said with remarkable assertiveness for her age.
“Correct. And you must be Mia.” He smiled, wondering where this was going.
“And you’re visiting us?” she asked keenly.
“Yes, I am. Your mother invited me for dinner.”
“Oh, yes, now I remember.”
Alain waited patiently for her next prompt. She knitted a little frown, suddenly considering something important.
“I’ll control the dogs. They can bite, you know.” Her head bobbed to stress the importance of the situation.
“Thank you. We definitely don’t want that to happen.” The Beaucerons were watching, lying panting and uninterested in the heat.
“I’ll show you,” she announced with enthusiasm and turned to the two dogs. One hand on her hip, assuming the position of a strict schoolteacher, she raised a little index finger in the air.
“Sit, Romeo, sit!” she exclaimed in a commanding voice, bending forward at the hips to emphasize the command. Romeo sat up obediently and tilted his giant head sideways, waiting for her next command. With equal success, she repeated the same instruction to the bitch, Juliet. She turned to Alain, her head raised high with the satisfaction of her accomplishment. “See, they listen to me.”
“I’m impressed,” he nodded approvingly. “Is it safe to get out of the car now?”
Several affirmative nods assured his safety. Alain removed a wooden crate of rosé wine from the trunk and turned to see Rachel waiting at the front door, smiling down at them. The late sun touched her hair and the spaghetti strap dress caressed her figure with a sensual promise.
“You’ve been watching us,” Alain complained, climbing the steps. “Left me hanging in the wind out there.” He kissed her cheek and willed himself not to nip her ear. At the brief touch of his lips against her skin, he took in the sensual aroma of perfume.
“You did just fine.”
Rachel turned, and Alain followed her to the back garden where Arianne was watching over Iain frolicking in the swimming pool. They moved to the arrangement of comfortable, pillowed deck chairs in the shade of the covered porch and sat down.
Iain noticed Alain and, suddenly losing all interest in swimming, he ran up to Alain, wet and shivering from spending the afternoon in the pool.
“Did you bring the Arati?” he asked wide-eyed, his teeth clattering uncontrollably.
Alain grabbed a dry towel and pulled the shivering body closer. Drying him vigorously, he replied, “Yeah, I brought the ‘Arati.’” He looked up at Rachel and shrugged, surrendering to the fact that his powerful vehicle had been renamed forever.
“Time for a warm bath … Mia, Iain — ” and with that Arianne coaxed the two unwilling bodies toward the house, their complaints and protestations echoing loudly as they made their way to a hot bath.
“You have two beautiful kids, Rachel.”
“Thanks. They can be a handful at times. I don’t know how I would have managed without Arianne.”
He scratched Romeo behind the ear. “The dogs came with you from London?”
She laughed. “No, they pretty much come with the house. They belong to Luke and Tina.”
Alain sat back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
“They’ve been so good to me, especially after Stuart left … ” Her voice trailed off.
“You did a great job on the renovation,” Alain changed the topic comfortably. For his tact, Rachel awarded him a quick smile.
“Thanks. Eugene would agree with you — I used it as one of my references in our proposal for the chateau renovation.”
Rachel stood and extended her hand in invitation to Alain. “Come, let’s get inside. I’m going to tuck the kids in before I make our meal. Hope you like salmon.”
“I’ll cook,” Alain said with confidence.
She stared at him skeptically. “I’m waiting for the punch line … ”
“You go see to Mia and Iain … Go on, then. Don’t you trust me in the kitchen?” With a playful pat on her derriere, he shooed her off in the direction of the kids.
Alain stepped into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of cold Chablis, took a slow, appreciative sip, and made a quick study of the layout — spice racks, utensil drawers, shelves for the heavy copper pots and pans.
All well laid out.
He opened the fridge and removed fresh salmon, dill, a bunch of thick, yellow asparagus, and a crisp green salad. Tapping his finger on the open door, he pondered the content of the fridge, and then added some plum tomatoes, a chunk of Parmesan cheese and an avocado to his stash. Lastly, he lit the two large candles on the marble-topped kitchen island.
• • •
When Rachel returned to the kitchen, Alain was busy adding salt to the wild rice simmering in a deep, copper-bottomed pot. “Your wine.” He passed her a glass of the cold Chablis and pointed to the stool at the kitchen island. “Sit,” he invited. “You’re to do nothing but enjoy the meal tonight.”
“This is a first for me.” She laughed and took a seat.
“No man has ever cooked for you?” Alain asked in mock surprise.
“No, not unless I paid for it — ” Then, at the mischievous grin on his face, she added quickly, “Like in a restaurant.”
“Oh, don’t be mistaken — you will pay for this meal tonight.”
A soft, warm glow came to her cheeks and she returned his smile over the rim of her glass.
“Kids asleep?”
“Hmmm … ”
Rachel lowered her head to her chest and massaged the back of her neck, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere in the kitchen and the ease with which Alain was preparing their meal.
He stepped toward her and, moving her hand, gently squeezed the stubborn muscles at the base of her neck. His hands were warm and strong, and the gentle pressure he exerted slowly relaxed the tension in her neck and back.
“They’re working you too hard over at the chateau, aren’t they?”
“They’re absolute monsters. I will have to bump my fees soon.”
The bubbling rice called for attention, and Alain returned to the stove to focus on the task of cooking. She watched with interest as he went about in the kitchen, his designer blue jeans a perfect fit over his narrow hips and the strength of his muscled thighs. He had rolled the sleeves of his white cotton shirt to his elbows, and the taut rope of muscles in his forearms danced in the candlelight. Her eyes came to rest on the tapered shape of his back while he poached the asparagus and prepared the salad with ease and practiced skill.
“Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.
“Mostly self-taught,” and then as an afterthought, he added, “ … and Italy, of course.”
“Please tell,” she encouraged, sensing a good story.
“Italy, 1997,” he started, his voice imitating an old man sharing a forgotten tale. “The mighty Giovanni family — devastated.”
Rachel shifted in her chair, excited and preparing herself for a good story.
“‘Our dear daughter, Claudina, will never get herself a good husband — her cooking is so very, very bad. Maybe we should try the cooking school in Tuscany.’”
Alain turned to her, leaning his right hip against the stove, arms crossed. “I saw her at the town market one morning, buying fresh produce for her cooking class. I desperately wanted to meet her.” His eyes glinted with naughtiness. “So, I enrolled at the same cooking school, hoping to dazzle her with my French accent.” A light shrug of his broad shoulders. “After wasting six weeks in cooking school, I eventually had to give up — she was of the good Catholic type.”
She nodded, strangely relieved at how the story ended.
“But you learned something from that, did you not?” Rachel indicated the meal he was preparing on the stove.
“Yes. If you don’t succeed after two weeks, walk away.”
She grabbed a dishtowel and tossed it at him.
“You’re impossible.”
Alain tasted a drop of olive oil on his finger before he poured it over the salad in a large wooden bowl. Then he tossed the fresh tomatoes, avocado, and greens.
“Rice is about ready,” he announced after checking the texture of the grain. “How do you like your salmon?” Then he leaned over and touched his lips gently to the skin of her neck, just below her ear. A soft ripple of pleasure ran down her spine, and she tilted her head, exposing the delicate skin of her neck to his lips.
“Suddenly I don’t feel like cooking anymore.”
“Then I’ll just have to stop tempting the chef,” she replied and pulled away reluctantly.
Alain returned his attention to preparing their meal. Soon he had the salmon cooked to perfection, and they sat down to enjoy his efforts.
“Mmmm,” Rachel exclaimed at the first bite. “Very, very tasty, Mr. Léon. You’re a man of many hidden talents.”
• • •
Alain nodded with a smile, but the taste of the meal was wasted on him. For him, the evening held a delectable promise for satisfying a different type of hunger.
“Dessert?” Rachel asked when they had finished their meal, and when Alain declined with a silent shake of his head, she added in a low voice over her shoulder as she stepped to the fridge, “Fresh strawberries and cream — sure you don’t want any?”
The lingering promise in her voice made Alain think twice about her offer. She placed the bowl of fruit and thick cream on the table and slowly lifted her gaze to Alain. The soft candlelight danced inviting shadows on the honey-brown of her skin.
“No?” she asked again, dipping a juicy strawberry into thick clotted cream and offered it to him. His chest tightened, and Alain leaned forward for Rachel to place the aromatic fruit in his mouth. Then Alain picked a bright red strawberry from the bowl and dipped it slowly into the cream. Rachel closed her eyes and Alain offered her the delicious fruit. She parted her lips and slowly licked the soft white cream from her mouth. Alain watched, mesmerized, unconsciously holding his breath.
She opened her eyes slowly, and Alain read the warm promise in the glowing amber flashes. He reached to lay his hand gently on her cheek and touched his lips tenderly to her mouth. Then he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes in desire at her smell.
“So, what do I owe you for the meal tonight?”
He nibbled softly on her earlobe in answer. “Oh, I have something special in mind.”
“Tell me,” she demanded in a husky voice, closing her eyes.
He pulled her closer and parted her lips with his tongue. She responded willingly, his tongue darting around in her mouth.
With one swift movement, Alain swooped his arms under Rachel and picked her up, their lips still locked. Rachel gasped as he lifted her and flung her arm around his neck.
“Where?” He could muster only the single word, his voice suddenly hoarse.
She pointed toward a door, and he carried her to the main bedroom where he lowered her slowly onto the bed. He paused briefly while she fumbled in the dark with the lamp on the nightstand. A click and then a soft glow filled the room.
Her wet lips glistened invitingly in the soft light, and he dropped his hand to slowly lower the strap of her dress from her shoulder. She looked up into his eyes, and he saw the embers glow brighter, deep in her eyes. She lifted her shoulder and the other strap slipped off, revealing the soft, white skin of her breasts. Slowly he traced the sensuous contour of her breast with his tongue.
“Take me in your mouth,” she whispered, and he responded with eagerness, sucking on her hardened nipple. He craved for the touch of her nakedness against his skin, wanting nothing between their bodies, and raised his arms above his head. She reached up with one easy tug she removed his shi
rt.
He lifted Rachel’s torso, and, as he slipped her dress from under her, she started ripping at the buttons of his jeans. They fell in a tangle of naked limbs on the bed, heaving at the closeness of their bodies.
• • •
The shock of their sudden nakedness rushed through Rachel’s veins. Alain leaned forward and touched her lower ribcage with his mouth, blowing softly on her skin. She shuddered at the pleasure thrills running down her spine, hot like fire. With a wicked sense of knowing, he ran the tip of his tongue slowly down her quivering belly, drawing a long, soft moan from her.
Then, a fierce desire to please Alain came over Rachel. She sat up and pulled his head back to her face, whispering, “Wait, I want to please you.”
Pushing her hands against his muscular chest, she forced him back onto the bed to lie on top of him. With wicked patience, she ran the tip of her tongue down his heaving chest, her naked body sliding down on his. His erection strained mightily, and she paused, gently teasing him with her hardened breasts. Alain groaned softly, lying spread-eagled on the bed, his eyes wide, fixed into space.
Rachel slithered down lower onto his hard, flat stomach, plucking gently with her lips on the thin line of dark, curly hair that ran invitingly from his navel. She wet her lips and touched his arousal — barely, then blew soft, warm air onto it.
Alain groaned aloud and his hard, jagged breathing stuttered and stopped. His body stalled — quivering, straining as if against some powerful, unseen force. Desire flamed bright in his dark eyes, yet Rachel waited a moment longer. Then, unexpectedly, she took his full erection deep into her mouth.
With a mighty heave, Alain’s breath exploded from his lungs. His pelvis thrust upward forcefully.
“Enough!” he shuddered and grabbed a handful of Rachel’s hair. She looked up and smiled at him, shaking her head slowly from side to side. This was her turn to please him. She wanted it this way.
Heart to Heart Page 55
