by Demi Alex
“Maybe it was done intentionally.” She snuggled against him and fit her head on his shoulder. “Fill-in-the-blanks architecture.”
She studied the illuminated curves and the steady traffic over the bridge, wondering what it would look like if different statues filled the niches. The possibilities were endless. While considering the empty slots, she reflected on what could have been different in her life had she made different choices.
Rather than feeling like something was missing on a daily basis, she could feel content and complete. Speaking with someone who understood her on every level definitely added to a sense of satisfaction. Not to mention having the most amazing and nourishing sex on a regular basis.
With its missing statues and the options the blank spaces offered, the Pont Marie inspired all sorts of promises. Pressure swelled inside her chest. Hope enveloped her heart and pushed against her ribs. Kat looked up at Marko and simply considered her options.
He cupped her face, leaned in, and kissed her. A soft and gentle kiss, as reassuring as it was strong, confirming that he was a very real possibility. No words. No preamble. Gently, he licked over her lips, his tongue soothing the chill and softening her resolve to protect her heart.
Kat’s lips parted and she kissed him back, breathing him in and growing suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was to his every attention. She wanted him. Needed him. The heaviness in the center of her chest increased with each glide of his tongue, as he stoked the yearnings she’d kept buried for years.
“I should have ordered out for dinner and kept you in bed.” Rubbing a thumb over her cheekbone, he took her mouth again, deepened the kiss, and stroked every bit of reason from her head. Consumed by the taste of him and the intensity of his mouth, she closed her eyes and let the kiss take control. She didn’t want to think any further.
* * *
Dinner was at a quintessential bistro, hidden inside a pedestrian lane midway between the Pont Marie and the apartment. Decorated with black and white photo portraits, of subjects she guessed to be locals on burnt-orange-painted walls, and steel lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the bistro had an ambiance that was casual and humble. The aromas tickling her nose were not. Rich flavors floated in the air and spurred her appetite. Her stomach actually growled in response.
Flattening her palm on her belly, Kat giggled and scraped her teeth over her lower lip. She was famished.
“The daily fish is always delicious,” Marko suggested, looking toward the chalkboard. “Grilled turbot tonight.”
“With Béarnaise sauce,” she added enthusiastically, and dropped the menu on the table. “That settles it. I’m ready.”
Marko chuckled and raised a hand to call for the waiter. “We’ll start with the escargots in Provençale butter,” he said in French, glancing her way for corroboration.
Mouth watering with anticipation, she nodded. He knew her well. Had paid attention from the first day they’d met, so he had never needed to guess what made her happy. He knew. He selected a bottle of wine and ordered their meals, then placed an arm around the back of her chair.
“I’m loving my research,” Kat admitted, a wave of happiness flooding through her as she leaned into Marko. “The city is so much more than I expected. I’m totally falling in love with Paris.”
“You’re going to fall doubly in love with the chateaux. Provence in general,” Marko said, dipping a crusty corner of the baguette into the buttery sauce and feeding it to her. “The scenery and atmosphere are just what you like. Not the hustle and bustle of the city, but there is so much to enjoy. Plus, I think you’ll like the family. I know my family will fall in love with you.”
Inhaling through her nose, her chest rising visibly, she chewed, licked a tasty drop off her lip, and then swallowed hard. More than a little nervous about meeting his parents, she didn’t think they’d appreciate her crashing their family dinner.
The Renards were a bit out of her league. Actually, a bit was putting it mildly. His family wouldn’t like her at all. She didn’t have an elegant French bone in her body, nor was there a colorful Italian gene in her makeup. She was an outsider. She had nothing to bring to the table.
“They’re my parents,” he said. “Salt-of-the-earth people, who will adore you.”
“Do they adore all the other women you bring home?”
Stormy darkness clouded his face. The tiny muscle in his jaw ticked.
“I think that statement may require another session over my knee, bella.” With a single finger, he turned her to look at him. His words had a devastating effect on her resolve to distance herself. Her cheeks flushed, and she couldn’t look away from his displeased eyes. “For the record, I have never taken a woman home. I’ve never wanted another woman in my home. Comprendre?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Do not compare yourself to anyone else,” he continued, in a low and steely tone. “You are you, special, and exactly the woman I want to bring home.” The space between them dissolved and a heated kiss sent messages of encouragement and strength into her body and mind. “You need to trust me for more than just a few hours. I have no doubt in what is right.”
She touched his mouth and trailed over his strong jawline. Spell-bound by his words, she brought her lips close to his. He kept his gaze steady, leaving her no room to deny what he’d said. Somehow, his knowing what was right comforted her. It made everything all right. She could keep her heart exposed. A sense of belonging overcame her and outweighed any risk she envisioned. The last thing Kat wanted was to walk away from the security his knowing instilled.
“Okay,” she repeated, realizing she’d been looking for a way to goad him into an argument so she could avoid being vulnerable. “I’m sorry. I do trust you. I do.”
“Bien.” He motioned for the server to refresh their wineglasses.
Chapter Seventeen
“I didn’t mean to sabotage our night by being negative. I agreed to let you make decisions for the day.” Kat intertwined her fingers and placed her hands in her lap. Her thumbs twirled quickly as she spoke in a very soft voice. “You’ve been wonderful, Marko. You’re wonderful with anything you do.”
Kat, a competent and extremely headstrong woman on the surface, dropped her shoulders each time a future with Marko was mentioned. Beneath that surface, and only on personal relationship issues, she lacked confidence. Doubt had crossed her face more than once during their walk. She hid her reluctance to believe in herself well, but not well enough. He’d seen it.
Fuck. Marko swept a hand down his face and rubbed his jaw. He should have kept her at home and cultivated her submission until she was totally secure in her feelings. Casual physical contact didn’t suffice to keep her grounded and comfortable. He’d misjudged the depth of the situation.
She’d repressed the truth for too long. He’d allowed it. There was no way he’d let wrongful assumptions, supposedly based on logic, come between them again. He owned up to his shortfalls and steeled his determination. She’d only decide when she was honest with herself and with him. And only after he’d exhausted every avenue to prove to her that they belonged together.
“Thank you for your trust,” Marko said, raising his glass. “I do know best.”
A twinkle lit her eyes and she smiled. Her body visually relaxed. “I guess you haven’t outgrown the bigheaded attitude.”
“Why should I?”
“Why, indeed?” She clinked her glass with his. “To you knowing best.”
The glow of acceptance accentuated her loveliness, and he knew that by night’s end she’d agree to stay through the weekend. The rest . . . he would work out.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Not nearly enough,” she said, her fingers playing for more.
“You are so damn beautiful, bella.”
Her back straightened, and she sat up tall. He settled a long wisp of silky hair behind her ear, and caressed the soft skin of her pretty ear between his fingers, unable
to sate the need to touch her. Truly lovely, she graced him with a bright smile, and just like that, Kat returned to the moment.
She sipped her wine, chatted with glee between courses, and ravished the grilled turbot. “Is everything in Paris so flavorful?”
“It’s what we make of it, and flavorful is a perfect way to describe being with you,” he replied, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. He turned it gently and placed a kiss on the underside of her wrist. “So, so far, what is your most romantic landmark?”
“It’s difficult to choose. The whole city dazzles my mind. The Eiffel Tower is more breathtaking than I expected. The café mentality is extremely romantic. The Pont Marie is as Cyril described—
“Cyril?”
“Cyril is the man from the plane. He was the one that said when you stand by the Pont Marie, you’re supposed to kiss the person beside you.” Kat offered. “He kissed, or was kissed by, his first love beneath the bridge.”
“I can relate,” Marko said.
She fidgeted a little in her seat, and then held her hand out on the table and asked for her phone. Removing the case, she produced the card she’d placed in it earlier. “Cyril also invited me to this place. He called it a hidden gem. Said when I found what I was looking for in Paris to head on over.”
Marko knew this gem well. He knew Cyril. When he’d learned that his friend would be on the same flight as Kat, he had requested Cyril look out for her and make sure Kat would be comfortable. His friend had done exactly that and obviously more. He wasn’t comfortable with the other man being on a first-name basis with his Kat and personally inviting his Kat to the club, but giving her a peek into reality did suit his long-term goals with the woman.
“Would you like to go?” He took the card and flipped it through his fingers, studying her face.
Kat shrugged. “Why not? He was correct about the bridge. His suggestions were very romantic. Even sexy.”
With no intention of convincing her otherwise, Marko nodded and placed the card in his pocket and retrieved his cellular. “Then we’ll go. I’ll arrange for a car.”
“Marko?” Slender fingers closed around his wrist and prevented him from lifting the phone to his ear.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I was hoping we could walk over the bridge together?” She raised her left shoulder and tilted her head. “I know it sounds corny, but it’s like crossing into the future. If you don’t mind, I’d enjoy the walk. The weather is cooperating.”
“It does not sound corny,” Marko insisted. “The club is off the Champs-Élysées, so we will need the car to get there.” He placed the call and arranged for a car to meet them on the Right Bank later in the evening. Motioning for the server to approach, he requested a thermos of vin chaud. “However, we will have a little outdoor picnic and a quick walk along the Seine.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. She leaned across her seat and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “I’ve always dreamed of strolling by the river. You’re making this the most memorable night of my life.”
Merde! Kat could hardly anticipate how memorable the night was about to get.
“This evening is so dreamy . . . so perfectly romantic,” she said, curling her fingers around the thermos of hot wine. Kat practically bounced in her chair. Her big eyes, brighter than usual, seared him with a sensual invitation. The blush coloring her cheeks displayed her sexual desire. Marko’s body couldn’t help its innate response. He was a man, a man who wanted his woman. He tapped a fingertip over the rosy center of her left cheek, and her delicious lips parted. Immediately, he envisioned doing things to her mouth that were not very appropriate considering their location.
“It’s more than romantic. It’s sexy to the point of being painful,” he said. Taking her hand, he placed it over his groin to show her how sexy he thought it was.
“It is sexy,” she agreed, splaying her fingers. “A little discomfort serves as a nice aphrodisiac. No?”
His cock agreed. “More than you know, bella.” The red marks on her curvy ass had certainly served as an aphrodisiac. “I think we should hurry to our picnic. We have a few things to discuss before we visit the club.”
“Or maybe detour to the apartment?” Kat offered in a whisper. “We could enjoy a different sort of picnic there.”
“Yes. We can,” he agreed, deciding on the perfect spot to enjoy their vin chaud.
His cock swelled painfully in his pants, and he was the one in need. He needed the cold air to stall his libido, or he wouldn’t wait for privacy. He’d take her on the very table on which they’d dined.
“Allons-y.” He grabbed the thermos, pushed back his chair, and reached for their coats.
* * *
Marko kept a hand on Kat’s hip, holding her close as they walked through the lanes. He explained the basic premise of the private club, elaborating on its open mindedness and inclusive nature. He didn’t outline specific activities or events, but he allowed her enough insight to change her mind if she wasn’t comfortable.
They walked past the café from the afternoon and rounded the corner to the street entrance of the apartment. She tugged on his arm as they stopped at the door. “Is it a real sex club?”
“It is,” he stated. He entered the combination on the keypad, opened the door, and showed her to the elevator. “You will be with me. I will not allow for anyone else. Remember, you have given me the night. As for the membership at the club, it is exclusive and by invitation. Consensual play only.”
The elevator was larger than most private lifts, but she squeezed in close to him and tightened her grasp on his arm. “It’s a bit intimidating, but my curiosity is greater than my fear. I think it’ll be interesting to see,” she said. “Am I dressed right?”
“You will be.” Marko dropped a kiss on her head and closed his eyes. She was finally embracing what she wanted. “However, once we walk into the club, you become my responsibility. There will be no doubts or questions.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he repeated, no smile on his face.
“Okay,” she said. “I understand.”
At that, Marko smiled. Kat was taking a big step and trusting him.
The elevator stopped on the third level of the home. He led her through the foyer and into the formal living room, which from its mere location was meant to impress. Stark white walls rose to an intricate crown molding, which was dusted with gold roses. The wooden beams on the high ceiling added a distinct warmth and complemented the polished floors. Wanting her input on the décor, he’d chosen to wait on the majority of furnishings. Only a white leather seating group, as on the first level, sat before the tall windows and beside the fireplace.
Kat gazed around the vast space, once again a look of awe on her face. When she reached to undo her coat, he stopped her. “There’s more.”
Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the room. The staccato rhythm of her heels coaxed his cock back to full attention. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop envisioning Kat in the club. Physical submission and the acceptance of pure pleasure would add a definite link to their bond. A link she hadn’t openly admitted she needed, he cautioned his eager body.
Strong and capable, she’d managed well on her own and put away a good nest egg for her mother to retire on. Her success did not negate the need for support. He was the man for her support. He had supported at the expense of delaying the inevitable. Requiring assurance, loyalty, and commitment didn’t make Kat a submissive in every part of her life, but he knew she craved to be just that in certain points. It was his duty to identify those times and to fulfill her desires.
Stepping out onto the balcony, he indicated the spiral staircase. “Our picnic awaits, mademoiselle.”
* * *
Taking care to stay off her heels, Kat climbed the iron staircase on the balls of her feet. When she reached the upper turn, and the rooftop came into view, her mouth dropped.
Strings of li
ghts trailed over the low wrought-iron fence and framed a canvas awning against the back wall, casting a radiant glow over the terrace. Set in an alcove between two of the building’s stone sidewalls, plush couches with big red pillows were arranged beneath the retractable canopy and offered an unobstructed view of the city sprawling below them. The comfortable seating area featured a low cocktail-style table with a rustic fire pit as the centerpiece.
“Marko, this is heavenly,” she said. She held his arm while turning in blatant appreciation. He placed the thermos on the table, then reached for the remote.
Fire flamed in the pit and the awning retracted. “Why didn’t you show this to me earlier?”
“Sometimes we need to be patient. Plus, it was raining, Kat,” he said, laughing as he pulled her into a hug. He linked his hands at the small of her back and swayed to the soft jazz drifting up from the street level. “Did you say something about corny?”
“Not corny. Absolutely not,” she whispered, her sweet breath teasing his lips. “We should’ve started with the terrace. It’s the most beautiful and the most romantic place I’ve ever seen.”
He closed the distance between them and kissed her. Savoring her taste, he reveled in every caress of her tongue and the softness of her lips.
Enfolding her in his arms, he devoured her mouth with each step he took toward the couch and was still unable to get enough of her. He didn’t want to let her go, but they had a picnic to get on with and an interesting night ahead of them. He lowered her onto the overstuffed cushions and sat beside her.
Breathless, she sidled onto his lap. “Do you mind?”
“Never.”
She looked into his eyes and tangled her fingers in his hair. Her mouth, swollen from his kiss, curved into a radiant smile. “Marko?”
