[Invitation to Eden 24.0] How to Tempt a Tycoon

by Daire StDenis

  “You’ve been gone for days. No one knew where you were.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  The shake of his head and the seriousness in his expression tells me he definitely is not.

  “Oh my God.” I step out of his embrace. “This place is a serious mind-fuck.”

  Christophe does not regard me like a madwoman. Instead, he takes my hand. “It can be.”

  Glancing up suspiciously, I ask, “How do you know?”

  “If you’ll recall, I’ve been here before.”

  “Right. Right.” I take a deep breath and glance behind me. I don’t know why, I just feel like I should, so I do. The hut is gone. Of course it is. I give my head a shake.

  I start to walk in the direction of the villa—or at least, I think it’s the direction of the villa—when Christophe stops me.

  “Wait. I need you to know something.”

  “What?”

  He looks down at me, his eyes even bluer in the light, but clouded with something. Worry? No. Something else. He sweeps his hand through his hair and looks off into the distance for a moment. “I’m sorry. For whatever happened.”

  Those are not the words I expect. Not that I have any idea what I expected him to say.

  “It’s okay,” I say, thinking about what the mysterious host said on the other side of the screen. “I know it wasn’t you who made me feel crazy that first day.”

  “Tell me what happened that day.”

  So I do. As we stroll along the beach, I tell him about all the doors being locked, the beach that led nowhere, the lack of phone service, the lack of people. “It was like a bad dream.”

  I glance up into his eyes and I am reminded of my dream. “And then I had a bad dream. Or...a good dream.” Shit, I can’t decide which it was now that I know that Christophe had nothing to do with what happened. “You were in it. So when I woke up and you were standing there and everything was still so muddled in my head...I overreacted. I’m sorry too.”

  He tugs on my hand, pulling me beneath his arm. “So...does your presence now mean you’ll stay? Do you accept my invitation to Eden?”

  “Yes. I accept.”

  “Good. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “That is yet to be determined.” I nudge him in the ribs, grinning.

  We head back to the villa, hand in hand, like holding hands with Christophe Chevalier is the most natural thing in the world.

  “So, do you want to tell me about your dream?”

  I sneak a peek at him. “It was about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “You ravished me.”

  He stops and looks down at me with a twisted smile. “Ravished?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  Continuing to walk, he says, “Well, that sounds...exciting.”

  “It was. Sort of.”

  He squeezes my hand, “So tell me, Mademoiselle Savage, do you want me to ravish you or was that the bad part of your dream?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  We walk up the path from the beach to our villa, passing the infinity pool, the hammocks, the outdoor living area and inside, going through to the massive living room. I motion to the villa at large. “This is lovely by the way. Excessive, but lovely.”

  “I’m sure it didn’t feel so nice when you felt locked in.”

  “No, it didn’t. But if you have to be imprisoned, being stuck in a five-star resort isn’t a bad way to go.”

  “Yes,” he says with a wry twist of his lips. “It must have been very difficult for you.”

  I give him a dirty look. “I can make light of what happened. You can’t.”

  “My apologies.”

  Watching him move around the kitchen, removing a bottle of sparkling water and a platter of sandwiches from the refrigerator, I feel confused. Displaced. “Tell me,” I say.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Why did you invite me?” I motion to the villa but past that too, to the island beyond. “Here, of all places.”

  “I know Theo. We’ve done business together.”

  “Who’s Theo?”

  “Theodosius Vardalos, he owns the island.”

  “Theodosius the billionaire? I thought he died, like over a decade ago.”

  “He nearly did.”

  “So he’s The Master?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  I shake my head. “I spoke to him. Why would he conceal his identity from me?”

  “No one knows why Theo does what he does.” Christophe walks around the counter until he’s standing directly in front of me. “Would you believe it was Theo himself who suggested I meet you?”

  “What?”

  “It’s true.”

  “But I don’t even know him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I...” I reflect upon the conversation I had with him. I didn’t recognize his voice but voices change. I didn’t see him, so I wouldn’t know what he looked like. He certainly seemed to know me.

  “Why would he suggest a thing like that?”

  “I asked him the same thing.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, meet her. You’ll know why.”

  “But we’ve only spent a few hours together.”

  He smiles.

  I point at his face. “What the hell does that smile mean? You’ve done that before, smile like you know a secret.”

  “Do you know the chicken and egg dilemma?”

  “Yes, of course I do.” I sing the ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg’ song. Why do I sing this silly song? Who knows why I do the things I do, sometimes. “So, what does that have to do with us?”

  “We are a paradox.”

  “You’re not making sense. Are you trying to say this was all a masterful blind date set-up by a bored billionaire?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  He frames my face and his touch instantly sends a delightful, shivery warmth down into my chest. “I’m saying I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Weird way to say it, if you ask me,” I mutter.

  He laughs and kisses me gently on the lips. I stand stock still. It is not a passionate kiss. It is light and sweet and loving.

  It is also the first time we’ve ever kissed.

  He goes back to organizing the food and setting it on the table as I watch, dumbfounded. I touch my mouth and look at my hand as if expecting evidence from the kiss to be left behind.

  I clear my throat. “So...tell me, Monsieur Chevalier. How do you foresee this week going?”

  “Much like any tropical vacation. I was hoping to do some diving; the reefs around the island are spectacular and I know you’re a certified diver.”

  Hands on my hips, I narrow my gaze. “You really need to stop creeping me.”

  “Tell me you haven’t done the same thing?”

  My lips twitch because he’s so right. I looked up as much information about Christophe Chevalier as I could. Former Formula One race car driver, deep sea diver, sky diver, he has competed in numerous international sailing federation competitions, and the man likes to take things to the extreme. However, he also sits on the board of numerous charitable foundations, maybe to balance all that extreme shit.

  “Maybe,” I hedge.

  He laughs. I’d forgotten what a wonderfully melodic, infectious laugh he has.

  “But don’t expect me to go sky diving. Sailing...maybe.”

  His laughter grows as he realizes that I have just admitted to googling him. He draws me over to the table, laughter still dancing in his eyes, though his smile is more seductive than humorous. “Then there are other things I should very much like to share.”

  He holds my chair for me and I have to tilt my head back to look up at him once I sit. The delicious scent of his aftershave evokes memories from Monte Carlo, and his lowered voice stokes those memories into a smoldering fire in the pit of my tummy.

  “What sort of things
?”

  “Philosophies.”

  “You mean sex.”

  He places his hands on my shoulders. “Yes. Does that shock you?”

  “Coming from you? No.” I do not admit to him his words send shockwaves down to my clit, however.

  He sits down across from me and I notice the smile. The knowing-fucking-smile, like he has a pretty good idea what effect his words have had on my bits and pieces.

  He unwraps a napkin from a silverware set and says, casually, as if we’re talking about the weather, “I must be honest with you. I want more than a simple sexual encounter with you.”

  “What do you want?” The shockwaves are moving along, causing a delicate shuddering sensation between my legs.

  Christophe looks up and meets my gaze. “I want all of you, Tessa.”

  “What does that mean?” The words are soft. Breathless.

  “I want to share more than just our bodies.”

  I frown. “Is this about Tantra?”

  “Yes.” The laughter dissipates into something softer, sexier. “But first, we eat.” He motions to the food in front of me. “You must be famished.”

  I don’t realize how hungry I am until I start eating, shoveling the first few bites of the delicious brie and roasted apple on Panini in my mouth, but soon the flavors force me to slow down and I close my eyes to appreciate the delicious blend.

  “Tell me,” I say, covering my half-full mouth. “What made you get into Tantra?”

  “I got to a point in my life where existence became a never-ending search for something that didn’t exist. Faster cars, more dangerous dives, bigger boats...” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully before continuing. “More women, more often.”

  “And then?”

  “Then someone taught me there was something else.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman.”

  “Who was she?”

  He smiles and does that French head-tilt thing. “The most influential woman in my life.”

  “What did she teach you?”

  “She taught me about paradox. That in the constant search for higher highs, for more sensations I had actually lost the ability to feel.”

  “That is a paradox.”

  He nods and there is something in his face as he regards me, like I’m the paradox. Which makes no sense at all.

  “So, how did she get you to change and start feeling again?”

  “She taught me Tantric principals.”

  “And you changed, just like that?”

  “No. I was as reluctant to try what she suggested as you are.” He leans across the table. “I can still hear her trying to convince me to try a different way of being. Do you know what she said to try to convince me?”

  I shake my head.

  He laughs softly, his gaze distant. “She said my sex life was unfulfilling.”

  “Really?”

  “She said my cock was desensitized by too much hard fucking.”

  I cover my mouth.

  “Then she said, ‘what if I told you that you could have sex that made you feel like your cock was plugged into an electrical outlet? Would you try it?’”

  I cover my mouth and laugh. “She did not say that.”

  “She did.”

  “Oh my God! That sounds like something I would say?”

  “Does it?”

  He gets up and comes around to my chair, pulling me out of it so that we’re facing one another. God, he’s so fucking close. I can smell his delicious aftershave, feel his heat, and if I open my mouth to breathe, I’m sure I can taste him. His touch on my cheek is electric. It singes, sizzles, sears me. “And...is that what it feels like?” I whisper. “Tantra, I mean.”

  “No. It is better. So much better.”

  Chapter Fourteen - Christophe

  I’m tempted to kiss him. So tempted. Like, licking my lips in preparation to kiss, tempted. Actually, I’m tempted to do much more than kiss. I want to know what sex with Christophe would feel like. The kind that is better than being hooked up directly to an electrical outlet.

  But I don’t. I don’t know why. Not eagerly giving into my sexual desires is very un-Tessa-like. I don’t know if I’m waiting for Christophe to make the first move or what.

  And when he doesn’t, when he just stares into my eyes with that intense, mysterious gaze, like he’s searching out my soul, I feel so...out of sorts, I change the subject completely.

  “What’s on the agenda today?”

  He takes a moment to process my question. “Do you like off-roading?

  “Umm...sure?”

  “Excellent. Change into something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

  Christophe calls the concierge and organizes a car to take us to the middle of the jungle. Man, this island is so much bigger than I first thought. We don helmets, which gives me pause. I mean, what the hell are we going to be doing that requires helmets?

  Then I see the vehicle we’ll be driving. It’s not a truck like I imagined, but a dune buggy/car, with roll bars and big tires. Five seconds into the ride I know exactly why we need helmets. Christophe drives the thing like we’re in a world class race. I don’t know who we’re racing against. The island? Time? His demons?

  Christophe shifts from one gear to the next with such fucking authority, making the car do his bidding, like it’s an extension of his body, the engine alternatively whines and purrs like it’s a woman’s body, not a machine, and he’s making love to it, bringing it to the verge of orgasm and then slowing down again, petting it, only to rev it up again and forcing it newer and greater heights. The whole thing is terrifying and incredibly sexy at the same time.

  The result of all this?

  Tessa is turned on in a big way.

  So fucking turned on.

  By the time we get back to the villa, I’m all hands and Christophe does not seem to mind one bit.

  “You miss racing,” I say.

  “Sometimes.” He grins, opening the door for me. “I like going fast. Sometimes I miss the competition. The danger. It makes me feel alive. But...” He closes the door and then stops me from moving down the hall. He moves me up against the wall, staring directly into eyes. His breath is suddenly in tune with mine. “When you’ve experienced something so much greater, so much more fulfilling, so much more enlightened, those thrills seem almost mundane.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Let me show you. Please.”

  His ‘please’ is not pleading, it’s commanding, and almost before the word is out of his mouth, he reaches for me, cupping my jaw and running a thumb along my lips before trailing it down. He explores my collarbones and shoulders and then moves lower to cup my breast. Instead of squeezing and tugging, he waits, gazing into my eyes as his hand rests on me, the heat from that appendage spreading through my chest, warming me with a beautiful glow.

  “So,” I say thickly. “Tell me how Tantra differs from regular old-fashioned sex?”

  “To begin with?” His hand slides lower, covering my belly now. “There is no goal.”

  “No goal?”

  His head moves back and forth as his hand slides lower. “There is only awareness.”

  “Awareness,” I repeat without thinking because in my mind I’m urging his hand lower. My clit is still pulsing from that thrilling ride and I’ve been nursing a girlie hard-on for hours.

  His hand slides between my legs and my automatic response is to grind against him. Oh yes. Here we go.

  But he merely cups me without providing the delicious friction my body craves.

  “You are holding so much tension here.” He presses up against me, gently but firmly.

  Yes. That’s better.

  I gyrate some more, letting him know with my body that I am ready and eager for whatever ‘lessons’ he may want to teach me.

  “The first thing you must learn is to relax.” He makes a gentle circle with his hand, his voice deep. “Right here.”

  Heaven help me, what
he’s doing feels good. “I might relax more if you were to slide your fingers inside of my panties.”

  His smile grows at the same speed his hand slides away, dammit!

  “Let’s go for a swim.”

  “A swim?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to cool down.” He leans into me, pressing his arousal against my belly. “I need to cool down.” He shifts against me. Oh yes. He’s very aroused. “And, I’m dying to see you wet.”

  ***

  I don’t understand why I should cool down. I thought Christophe wanted to have a sexual relationship with me.

  I change, and it takes me less than thirty seconds, and then am lounging about in the infinity pool when Christophe appears. Naked.

  Fuck me!

  The man is fucking gorgeous. Unbelievably, irresponsibly masculine. Lean and muscular, with a lovely patch of hair nestled between taut pectorals and drawing a line down to that completely male, completely virile part of him. He is the perfect size. I can tell, even though he’s only semi-erect.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I point at him. “You said I needed to cool down. Swimming with you naked is not going to accomplish that very well.”

  He grins and his eyebrows waggle. “It’s a lesson.”

  “If the lesson is about how long it takes for Tessa Savage to jump your bones, I’m saying not long.”

  “You need to learn patience.”

  “So I’ve been told. I say patience is overrated.”

  “You won’t always believe it.” He moves closer.

  “Stay back,” I say. “If you come closer I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  “Yes you will.”

  “No,” I shake my head, eyes flicking between his gorgeous gaze and his gorgeous growing hard on. “No, if experience is any guide, I most definitely will not have control.”

  “Take off your bikini.”

  “Ha!” I point at him. “You are not playing fair.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No. I swear, I don’t even know what game we’re playing but I know that it’s not fair and that this is not nice.”

  “Take off your bikini, Tessa, and tell me if you find me desirable.”

  “Of course I do. Damn you.” I undo my top and toss it to the side of the pool. Why? Because Christophe-fucking-Chevalier told me to, that’s why.