Her voice was a whisper. ‘I know, and I thought it suited me too. But I don’t want to be alone tonight.’
Chapter Nine
IT SEEMED that admitting he couldn’t bear to be alone even for one night was too much to ask of Leon Montallier. But, though Cally was well aware that her track record for reading the opposite sex was abysmal, she couldn’t shake the feeling that his expression said it for him. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn from the grim set of his mouth that she’d just stumbled upon his Achilles’ heel. But, as he lightly brushed his hand down her side and resolutely scooped her up into his arms, all she knew was that he wanted her body with the same voracious need that she wanted his, and suddenly that felt like the only thing that mattered.
‘This time we’re going to do this properly,’ he instructed her huskily as he carried her back into the palace and up an unfamiliar spiral staircase.
Unfamiliar, because this was the staircase that led to the master bedroom. Where, unlike in the studio, there could be no more pretending that this was somehow to do with the paintings, no more conveniently imagining that he was just an ordinary man, a diver in the Marine Nationale. He was the sovereign prince, and this was his palace. Perhaps it ought to have felt terrifying, yet somehow, as they entered the room with its stained-glass windows and four-poster bed, it felt utterly liberating. It was as if she’d had an internal pair of scales which she had been trying desperately hard to balance ever since she had arrived and finally she had let them tip. But, rather than the disaster she had felt sure would assail her, she felt a great surge of relief.
‘I’ve been wanting to do this all night,’ he breathed, lowering his head and releasing her just enough for her feet to touch the gold-and-aquamarine rug, whilst keeping her so tightly pressed to him she could feel the lines of his suit imprinted on her body through the thin fabric of her dress.
‘Just all night?’ she whispered against his lips, so provocatively that for a moment she wondered whether she was possessed by the spirit of some other woman, a woman who wasn’t convinced that any minute now she’d lose her nerve, a woman who was confident—sexy, even. She realised that, without being wholly conscious of it, every time he touched her she became that woman. A woman she didn’t recognise, but who she had always wanted to be.
‘What do you think?’ he bit out raggedly, answering her with an urgent, drugging kiss and reaching behind her, cupping her bottom, then running his hand down the back of her thigh, balling the dress in his hand.
Cally kissed him back with equal need, snaking her arms behind his back, encouraging the jacket from his shoulders until it fell to the floor.
Leon broke away from her momentarily, his eyebrow quirked at the exact same angle it had been the day he’d walked into the studio brandishing the hacked-off fabric of her jeans. ‘You know, I’ve never met a woman who has so little regard for designer clothes.’
‘Is that such a bad thing?’ she whispered.
‘On the contrary,’ he answered roughly, ‘right now I find it a very good thing.’And before Cally knew what was happening he reached his hands inside the neck of the jade green dress and pulled, tearing the garment in half and leaving her standing there in nothing but her own plain black bra and knickers.
He eyed them with a puzzled expression. ‘That’s not the underwear I selected.’
‘No,’ Cally said, her tone cautious but not without a note of defiance. ‘It’s not.’
Ever since that night she had steered clear of the tempting drawer full of lingerie and had repeatedly laundered her own set of smalls, not only because they were more comfortable to wear during the day but because she’d decided they were far more likely to prevent her thoughts from wandering than the feel of lace against skin. Wrong again, a voice chimed inside her head, but as she caught his gaze sliding over her with lust-filled appreciation it couldn’t have felt more right.
‘Is it a problem?’ she asked, slanting him a daring look as she watched his pupils dilate.
‘That depends.’ Leon took a step back, drinking her in.
‘On what?’
‘On how good the show is,’ he answered huskily, extending his arm, and she realised that his step backwards had put him in reach of a CD player.
Her legs almost buckled as she heard the slow, familiar beat begin to fill the room.
‘Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell…’
It couldn’t be a coincidence; it was their song. No, that was far too sentimental. It was the song that had happened to be playing that night. But what was it doing on the CD player in his bedroom if it didn’t mean something to him too?
‘Don’t tell me,’ she whispered, trying to make her voice sound light, ‘you and Kaliq often meet up in dodgy rock bars, and there’s one in the centre of Montéz called La Route à…’
‘La Route à Nulle Part,’ he said slowly, sexily, a smile tugging at his lips as she attempted the French for Road To Nowhere. ‘Almost. Either that, or for some reason I couldn’t get the damned song out of my head and I had to hear it again.’
‘And did it work?’ Cally asked, trying not to tremble as she slowly began to move in time with the music.
Leon’s throat went dry as he watched her. ‘Did what work?’
‘Did it help you get it out of your head?’
‘No.’
Cally felt her heart turn over. She wanted to bottle that feeling—the helplessness in his voice, that one syllable which told her she affected him as deeply as he affected her—but she dared not let him see.
‘It is a memorable song,’ she whispered.
‘Very, very memorable.’ He nodded as she daringly slipped down one strap of her bra.
‘Has anyone—’ he cleared his throat, his voice coming out so low it was almost inaudible ‘—has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?’
‘Once,’ she smiled, remembering Leon’s warm breath in her ear on the dance floor. Tonight she even believed it. So much so that somehow, she—bookish, bad-at-sex Cally—had the confidence to strip in front of him in his royal chamber.
‘Then I think you need telling some more. Because you are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.’
And I’ve known a lot, was the unspoken, implicit end of that sentence. But she didn’t care, because his words were so precious to her that tonight it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
‘So would you like it if I did this?’ she asked innocently, hooking her thumbs into the sides of her knickers.
‘Mmm.’
‘Or this?’ Cally teased, sliding her hands back up her sides and behind her to the catch of her bra. His eyes were transfixed by the sight of her breasts strained against the thin fabric.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he said in a clipped voice, and for a minute Cally froze, terrified this was going to be a repeat of that moment in the taxi. But her fears vanished as he quickly closed the gap between them. ‘I’m through with waiting.’
Without a moment of hesitation he raised one hand behind her and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the floor to join the tatters of her dress. Her knickers went the same way.
‘Perfect,’ he breathed, his fingers taking the same path up her body as hers had done until he found her full, heavy breasts.
‘Not quite!’ she cried breathlessly.
‘No?’ he murmured against her skin, trailing a line of kisses along the base of her throat, his lips a whisper away from taking her nipple in his mouth.
‘No! No. I…I want you naked with me.’ Her fingers moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.
‘Now you decide to be more careful, chérie?’ he scolded.
Cally pulled back, and, comprehending what he inferred, shook her head with a thrill. But, just as she dropped her eyes to his shirt to ponder how, his hands had covered hers and they were ripping open his shirt, buttons flying in all directions until he was naked from the waist up, every inch of his torso revealed in all its golden glory.<
br />
Quickly he pulled her back to him so that her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his bare chest, and with equal speed she reached for the waistband of his trousers. In a second he had discarded them and was standing there in nothing but his dark navy boxers, which did nothing to hide his straining excitement.
But, if Cally had thought their mutual urgency was a sign that their lovemaking was to be as frantic as three nights ago, she was mistaken. As he led her towards the bed and slowly laid her down, she understood that when he’d said they were going to do this properly, he hadn’t just meant that this time their lovemaking would take place in bed. Because, although she could see that his body was most certainly ready, his expression told her that he fully intended to explore her as if this was the very first time.
And in a way, as she watched him lick across her nipple with his tongue, the lines of his face taut with desire, it felt like it was. Because it was the only time she had ever truly given in to this kind of pleasure. It was as if until this moment her mind had always been a barren wasteland filled only with fears, but now in its place was a lush and tropical garden with no space for anyone but him. Him, the part of her she’d never known was missing, that she needed to complete her, to fill her.
‘Leon!’ She threw back her head as his fingers reached lower, dipping inside her. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, riding the rhythmic sensation of his circling, intimate caress, reaching out to stroke her hand along his silky-smooth length, guiding it towards her. So hard, so virile…
Then suddenly her eyes flew open.
‘What is it?’ he bit out, afraid that she was going to choose this moment to have an attack of conscience.
‘I—we need to use protection.’
Leon frowned. ‘I thought you were on the Pill.’
Cally looked up at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. ‘I…I was, but…but, as I didn’t expect to be here so long, I’ve run out.’
Leon shrugged, the momentary tension in his upper body released. ‘No problem.’
As he reached across to the drawer of the bedside cabinet, Cally felt a hideous sense of shame wash over her. Not only because she had lied, but because his trust in her was so implicit that he hadn’t thought to doubt her explanation for a second.
But as she felt the heat of his thighs parting her own, her mind returned to the tropical paradise, and she let go of her guilt. It was a misunderstanding that would have no consequence, an omission of the truth that he of all people would understand if it ever came to light. Which it wouldn’t, she assured herself, as her body parted to welcome him.
Cally slid her fingers up his back and lost them in his hair, loving the feel of his body on top of hers as he entered her. She didn’t have a clue how many perfect minutes passed as he moved slowly, assuredly, inside her, determined that they should both savour every second. She could see from the muscle in his jaw that he was fighting to keep his excitement on a leash, and she loved that most of all.
‘Do you want to change position?’ she asked, pretending she couldn’t see that he wanted to up the tempo.
‘No.’ His voice was throaty. ‘This time it’s going to happen to you, and I want to watch.’
Once Cally might have blushed, tensed, vowed it was impossible—or possibly all three. Not tonight.
‘Then take me a little faster,’ she whispered.
Leon’s eyes flared in pleasure as he did as she commanded. ‘Tell me what else you like.’
‘You,’ she answered without thinking. ‘Everywhere.’
Finding the only part of their bodies that wasn’t already interlocked, Leon entwined her fingers with his, and if Cally had been clinging to one remaining sliver of control that was the moment she lost it. For with the tenderness of that gesture she gave in to the mounting sense of longing that felt like an intense pain but without any of the hurt, gave in to every exquisite stroke, each one more insistent than the last, like waves against a breakwater about to give way.
She heard a moan escape from her mouth, low, insistent, infused with pleasure. She felt him grow even harder within her at the sound, and then completely withdraw before deliciously filling her with a thrust that was thick and fast.
‘Oh God!’
Cally felt the imaginary breakwater give way as every inch of her body was flooded with an exquisite heat, all-consuming, astonishing. The tide drew back and then washed over her again in a flurry of aftershocks as Leon cried out, reaching the height of his own pleasure just seconds after her own.
He’d been holding off, she realised, had wanted her to come first. It could have been to prove his own prowess, or to demonstrate that any restraint on her part was a thing of the past. But right at that moment as she lay locked in the circle of his arms she believed it was simply because he wanted her to know that pleasure. A pleasure she had never dreamed she was capable of reaching. Whatever happened, she would always be grateful for that.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, shifting her body to his side, though her arm remained slung across his chest.
‘You’re welcome,’ he smiled. ‘I’m glad I managed to persuade you to give in to it.’
She wasn’t sure whether he was talking about her desire for him or her orgasm. Perhaps it didn’t matter.
‘It was my first.’
Leon blinked in astonishment, observed the slash of colour still high on her cheekbones and the faint surprise in her bewitching green eyes, and felt a surge of triumph accompanied by a slow dawning of something unpleasant he couldn’t quite put his finger on. So she hadn’t been holding back that first time to prove a point; she simply hadn’t recognised the sensation or known how to let go. Which meant nothing, he quickly rationalised, refusing to revisit the thought which had momentarily flashed across his mind when he’d seen her modest underwear. Her usual encounters were probably one-night affairs after a quick fondle on a darkened dance floor, that was all.
‘It can take time to get to know a sexual partner,’ he said, too patronisingly for Cally’s liking.
‘If you are implying my sexual history consists of one-night stands, then you’re mistaken.’ She bristled, moving away from him and tugging the sheet around herself so that there was something more substantial than air between them. He was steering the conversation down a road she didn’t want to take, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking that way about her.
Leon hesitated, as if unable to decide whether asking the question that hovered on the tip of his tongue was really such a good idea. ‘Then perhaps you’d care to fill me in with the correct history.’
‘Not really.’
‘I am a modern man, Cally. The women with whom I choose to share my bed have inevitably had other lovers. It is not something which concerns me.’ At least, usually it wasn’t.
‘Well, then, I’m afraid my sexual CV is going to be unimpressive in comparison,’ she said quietly, not wanting to think about his other lovers, and at the same time wishing he did give a damn whether or not she was a complete whore or not. ‘There was only one other man before you.’
Leon’s eyes widened in shock, and then the blinding satisfaction of the revelation gave way to something far less palatable: the short stab of his conscience as the truth slotted into place. The day he’d seen her at the pre-auction, the plain underwear…She wasn’t some practised seductress who had set out to ensnare him, she was as good as innocent. Suddenly he felt consumed with regret for the assumptions he had made, the wrong he had done her.
And, ashamed though he was to admit it, worst of all he supposed he had always known on some level that she was the sentimental kind. He had simply chosen to believe the opposite rather than stick to his own rule. The rule that, in spite of everything, he wanted to break all over again.
‘So who was he?’ Leon propped himself up on his arm and looked at her. ‘A fiancé?’ He paused. ‘A husband?’
Cally shook her head. ‘No, David was never in any danger of finding himself in either of those ca
tegories when it came to me.’
‘But you hoped so?’
She nodded reluctantly. ‘But I should have known from the start that I lacked the right credentials.’
Leon’s mouth was a picture of disdain. ‘How do you mean?’
‘He was the son of an earl. I was working part-time on his father’s estate. I don’t know why I persisted in thinking that the difference in class between us was irrelevant. My parents, I suppose.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘They always told Jen and me that there were no barriers.’ She shook her head. ‘They were wrong. It was nothing more to him than an affair with a scullery maid would have been to one of his ancestors. I let him talk me into sleeping with him because he told me he loved me—and, worse, I let him talk me out of continuing with my degree because he said going it alone would make me a better artist. He lied. One of the other girls working there warned me that David shared his father’s misogynistic views on women of a certain class trying to better themselves by getting too much education, but I thought she was just jealous. Until I left uni, turned up on his doorstep and found out that he had got himself engaged to an heiress without bothering to tell me.’
Cally looked up and, seeing from the look in his eyes that she was in danger of being at the receiving end of his pity, she continued quickly. ‘So, do you always quiz women about their ex-lovers in bed?’
‘Only when they tell me I am the first man to make them reach orgasm,’ Leon answered, filled with a new and grim understanding.
‘To bolster your ego?’
‘Because it’s a shame, Cally. Fantastic sex is like…art.’
‘You mean everyone should enjoy it, like putting a great painting in a public gallery?’
‘Touché.’ He raised one eyebrow sexily. ‘No. I mean the more you learn, the more you enjoy it.’
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