“Carla says it’s my pattern to move after a break-up.”
He reached out and traced a finger down the side of her face and over the shoulder strap of her nightgown. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. “That’s a pretty literal way of moving on.”
“They just coincide with turning points. Starting college, graduating, finishing the Teach America program. Things come to a natural end.” That realization buzzed through her mind. She’d been disappointed at the break-up last month, but right now it seemed she’d been upset about not having an excuse not to move home. The thought chilled her.
“So why are you moving back to Oregon?”
A tornado of guilt and shame touched down on her psychological landscape. She didn’t know where else to go. She couldn’t afford to stay in DC. Oregon had seemed like the best option, but really, what it had going for it was good weather and not having to travel for holidays.
“My family is there. I’ll be able to afford to buy a house, which I could never do in DC on a teacher’s salary. Allison plans on having a baby right away and I’ll make a fantastic aunt.” Good, logical reasons.
“I think it is a very safe choice, Jaime. If that’s how you want to live your life.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you always take the easy road, make cautious decisions, you don’t have to risk anything. If you make enough excuses you might never have to play the game of life. You can always stay safely on the bench.”
She leapt from the bed, turning to stare down at him. Her entire body vibrated with anger. “How dare you say that to me. You think you know me, have me all boxed in? Well, let me tell you something. If I was as meek and scared as you think I never would have lasted a day at an inner-city school, let alone five years.”
He leaned back on his elbows smiling at her. “Bonjour, J’aime. I wondered where you went. Ever since that morning at the hotel you’ve been pretending to be someone else. Why bother?”
She kicked him in the shin, hard. Her toe smarted, but she refused to let it show as he grabbed his leg and sat up. “What was that for?”
“I am not pretending to be someone else. I’m trying to figure out who I am now. And you, with your throwing maps out windows and constantly touching me and refusing to just take me home, you are not helping.” She plopped down on the bed next to him. “Does suce moi, fumer le cigar mean what I think it means?”
He coughed, his eyes widening. “Excusez-moi?”
“That’s why I got a ticket. You talk in your sleep, and I was trying to figure out what you were dreaming about, and who. Since you’re being all high and mighty, tell me, what did you dream about?”
He shook his head. “You can’t exactly blame me. You’ve been taunting me for days, the way you move, the way you look at me, the way you keep flipping your hair over your shoulder so I’ll notice it.”
She so did not flip her hair. “I could say the same thing. All these unexpected stops and dallying could just be your way of keeping us on the road until you get me into bed.”
With lightning quickness, he rolled her onto her back, his large frame looming over her. “Mission accomplished.”
She squirmed beneath him, raising her knee slightly, just in case he tried anything funny. Being surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and sin might be tempting, if she didn’t want to shake some sense into his block head. “This is not helping.”
“No?” He dipped his head and grazed his lips over one temple, then the other. “Is it helping you forget how angry you want to be?”
Her body betrayed her. Her nipples tightened and heat swirled low in her belly.
His gaze moved down her body and then back to her face. “See, it’s working already. All the problems will be there in the morning, just waiting for you to worry about them then.” The sensual contours of his lips caressed the tension from her forehead, easing her eyes closed as his kiss continued downward.
“This will make one more thing for me to worry about.” Her protests sounded weak even to her. There was something about proximity to this man that drugged her, released her inhibitions along with her higher-order thought processes.
“You won’t, I promise.”
“I’ll worry about what my sister will say.” She turned her head to the side, which he took as an invitation to plant a scathing row of kisses along the column of her neck. Her libido fluttered and stretched like a butterfly about to take flight.
“Don’t tell her anything you don’t want to.”
Why was she protesting? She wanted him with an intensity that terrified her. Maybe that was the real problem. Their bodies had been buzzing with attraction for three days. If she kept fighting it she might spontaneously combust. “You won’t tell Trent?”
“He doesn’t want to know that his sister-in-law has an amazing ass, trust me.” His hand roved down her body, grazing the side of her breast, the soft swell of her stomach, the curve of her hip.
She giggled and shifted as he tugged the nightgown up over her thighs. “You think my ass is amazing?”
“I’m dying to find out, but you’ve been so busy hating me I haven’t had a chance.” His fingers snaked below the hem of the nightdress, reaching around to cup her bottom.
“You’ve been so busy driving me crazy, I haven’t wanted to let you.” She had, but she didn’t want to give in too easily.
“But you do now.” He rolled to his side, pulling the nightgown up and over her head, leaving her bare before him.
“I got my first speeding ticket. I’m feeling reckless.” Reckless and making quick decisions, terrified of returning to the girl she used to be and losing the woman she’d become, a woman confident enough to know what she wanted, who cared more about her opinion of herself than what everyone else thought.
She reached for his waistband, and with a firm push, she leveled the playing field. He quickly kicked his shorts off the rest of the way and tossed them to the floor.
He claimed her mouth in a hot and desperate kiss that was everything she wanted and everything she feared.
There was something about him that was unlike anything she’d ever known, ever experienced. Perhaps that’s what kept her guard up with him. But it was down now, and the time for worrying would come with the morning light. She needed to let go, release her frustrations, show him who she could be when she wasn’t wrapped up in making everyone else happy.
Xavier seemed determined to make her happy with his fingers, his mouth and other parts farther south she hadn’t allowed herself a peek at yet. With the slightest push, she rolled him to his back and climbed astride him.
She set her lips to his in a kiss that burned hotter than any that had come before. Hungry, demanding and possessive to the point of frightening.
He opened for her, granting her entrance to explore, capture, enjoy. Their tongues writhed in a seductive dance akin to the one happening between their bare bodies. The skin-on-skin contact flamed her desire for more.
“Do you―”
By magic, he read her mind and showed her the small foil packet in his hand.
“You were that sure of yourself?”
He had the nerve to kiss her again. She thought of biting his lip, but only for a fleeting moment. She looked down into the murky depths of his green eyes and realized there were much better things they could be doing.
She sat up and snatched the packet from his hand. He took advantage of the new freedom to cup the curved mounds of her breasts in his large hands, caressing her flesh and pulling her sensitive nipples between the sides of his fingers.
The tip of his tongue joined in the play, circling the dark areolas until she couldn’t stand another second of his teasing. Planting her hands on either side of his head, she leaned into him, wanting more.
It seemed as if she’d been in the lead until that moment, when the pleasure he wrought on her blurred reality. His hands, mouth, even the stubble on his chin combined to drive her mad as he licked, scraped, sucked.
; Every touch drove the sensations deeper until she barely knew when he rolled her to her back, firmly asserting his power. She might have tried to regain control if he’d paused longer than to protect them. Here she could take in the hard planes of his body, the raw desire in his eyes.
She reached for his shoulders, the power in his muscles evident even beneath his warm, golden skin. He leaned closer, his body hovering above hers.
“What did you say you wanted to do to me?”
“Hmm?” She massaged the bunching muscles of his shoulders beneath her hands, his skin tight and taut as she moved her hands down and spread her fingers wide, feeling the pectorals that rippled beneath the surface of his chest. The corrugated leanness of his flat abdomen made her stomach flutter. He was all hers. Hers to enjoy in every way possible.
He planted feather-light kisses along her jaw. “At Carla’s apartment. In Spanish.”
Who remembered? “She was teasing me.”
“You don’t want to?”
Want to what? She’d shut off her brain and thinking was hard. “Break the bed?”
He stilled. “That’s what I was worried about?”
“You don’t worry.” His wide grin matched her own. “What did you think she said?”
He didn’t answer, but when his kisses drifted down her body she didn’t mind at all. She’d had other lovers, but never a man who enjoyed her body so thoroughly. Every caress, every kiss showed the pride he took in his ability to bring her pleasure. She knew it meant he’d practiced these skills, but because she was benefiting from his experience and because she’d never have to witness him plying them on another, she let the thought go.
When he dipped his tongue into her navel, she nearly came off the bed. Who knew how many nerves could be reached from there? If not for his strong hand on the curve of her stomach, she might never have stilled long enough for him to hook her legs over his shoulders.
The bristle of his cheek scratched the inside of her thigh, his hot breath tickling her most sensitive places. She shivered under his view, never having been so exposed. The light coming from his room might be dim, but if she could see him, he could see her, everywhere.
Liquid heat from his mouth soothed her, quieted her anxiety, drowned it beneath waves of pleasure as bliss became the focus of her mind. His rough cheeks scratched her thighs, so she relaxed her hips, her legs falling open as he licked and sucked, did things with his fingers and tongue that she couldn’t even fathom.
When he fastened his lips on her clitoris her legs started to shake. Every nerve in her body tensed and released, tensed and released with the waves of the deepest orgasm she’d ever known.
Chapter Eight
“Don’t fall asleep on me again,” he chided, moving up her body so that the silken heat of her pussy taunted the tip of his cock.
Instead of speaking, Jaime rolled her hips, pressing against him mercilessly. He needed to hold off and calm himself if he had any prayer of lasting, but when her fingers gripped his ass and pressed him to her, his control snapped.
Only pleasure mattered as he slid into her with a barely reined-in thrust. He wanted to make this good for her, to make sure she wanted more.
In the morning.
Tomorrow.
Every day he had with her. Because being with her felt incredible. Better than he’d imagined. Better than he knew possible.
Bracing himself on his elbows, he began to move slowly, finding the rhythm. Still she teased him, her fingers tracing his biceps, his back and his butt while she made the most glorious moans and sighs.
His skin came alive everywhere she touched him, tingling with exhilaration. She slid soft hands over his shoulders, firing his blood as she touched the muscles of his chest. His heart thundered in his ribs, so hard and fast he wondered if it might burst when he climaxed.
Sensations flooded his body and his mind spun, trying to push aside thoughts of what could possibly be happening. Never had he felt such depth, such unbridled need. Even breathing seemed secondary to pleasure, his lungs filling slowly and rushing out frantically.
Beneath him, Jaime gasped, arching her back as her fingernails dug mercilessly into his shoulders. It was the only warning he got before her inner muscles clamped down on him with a grip of pleasure that held for an intense, blinding moment.
A cry of animal lust ripped from his throat, his hips driving ahead. With all of his strength, he pushed deeper, trying to dive into the sweltering bliss. His own climax timed his thrusts, his toes curling, his body shuddering as he gulped for air.
When oxygen finally returned to his brain, he looked down and smiled at her glassy-eyed expression. With her face flushed, her rounded cheekbones were even more prominent, her smile on the disarming side of silly. Deep brown eyes stared up at him, long lashes feathering with every blink.
“Xavier? Are you okay?”
He shook his head slightly, trying to bring himself back to reality. Rolling off her and onto his side helped, but he still felt enveloped in a glorious fog. He sat up and stretched his shoulders, amazed his muscles could feel so tight and so languid at the same time.
At the foot of the bed, he turned and saw her already curled beneath a sheet, grinning as if she felt as intoxicated as he did.
“Will you get me a glass of water?”
“Good idea.” He disposed of the condom in the bathroom, wondering if he should head back to his room for another. Maybe she’d want him to go to his room anyway. He swallowed down a glass of cold water that brought his wits back to him.
It was sex. Just sex. Good sex. And it had been a while. Natalie had made her debut as the lead designer with the spring season, and they’d been sprinting ever since. Everything had taken a back seat to her success. No one had graced his bed in nearly a year. That’s all that had happened out there. A physical reaction to abstinence.
He refilled the glass and turned, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He didn’t wear the flush of release as attractively as she did. What hair he had was plastered to his head, his chest and the rims of his ears a telltale red. It was as if he were a teenager, getting laid for the first time.
How ridiculous.
Gripping the glass, he stalked back to the bedroom. Jaime had moved to one side of the bed, the one with the alarm clock.
“Merci.” She took the water from his hand and drank greedily. She set the glass on the nightstand and flopped back on the pillows. “I’m allowed to fall asleep now, right?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
A wicked grin lit her features. “Yes, we just demonstrated that.”
He glanced at the door connecting their rooms, wanting both to find some privacy and to climb in bed with Jaime and start it all over again.
“You can sleep in here, if you want.” She lay back on the pillow, plumping it beneath her head. “Actually sleep. Or your own room. Whatever.”
Indeed. He walked to the door and reached through to flip off the light. He needed to get his head together, but he wanted to touch her again.
Rounding her bed to the empty side, he said a silent prayer, thankful that vacation was a time for wants. He could deal with what he needed later, when there wasn’t a warm and willing woman waiting for him in bed.
…
“Tell me you don’t want to go to a petrified wood gallery or a cowboy museum.” The savage cheerfulness in Jaime’s voice broke his slumber.
He’d been having such a lovely dream too. She’d been there, at the beach in St. Tropez, her golden skin darkening in the warm sun. Xavier opened one eye at the smell of coffee wafting through the room.
The bed dipped beside him as Jaime sat, already dressed in a flirty yellow sundress showcasing her curvy legs. She dropped a handful of brochures on the bed and then took a long sip from a steaming paper cup.
“Coffee?” Xavier croaked.
From the nightstand, she produced another cup, this one with a lid. The promise of coffee was enough for him to sit up. He reache
d for the cup, but she pulled it back.
“I did the best I could with what I had, so no complaining.”
He quirked an eyebrow and reached for the cup, wishing they really were in St. Tropez where they could wake up and enjoy the morning properly.
“How do you take your coffee normally?” She turned to face him, leaning against the headboard.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he rubbed a hand across his face. Why did this woman have to wake up as peppy as popcorn?
“It depends.” He cleared the gravel from his throat and took another hot sip. Coffee and cream, a little cinnamon. “Never with that powder people keep putting in my coffee. What is that, anyway?”
“Vile is what it is. I wasn’t sure if you took milk or cream.”
“Milk in the morning, black during the day, cream after dinner. But this is good. The cream covers up the bitterness of the coffee.”
“That was the goal. I asked the front desk where I could get espresso and they stared at me like I had two heads. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest certainly spoiled me. And got me through college.”
“Sorry?” He needed more to wake him up than something to drink. His gaze drifted to her bare legs stretched out on the bed.
“I was a barrista in college. And a bartender. If you can drink it, I can make it.” She gave a nod, her high ponytail bouncing.
Two jobs and earning her degree. His university days had been a vacation from the world of fashion. He’d even taken a year before he started and come to the States as an exchange student. He rarely thought of how lucky he was to have been born a Moreau, but it hit home sitting next to a woman who worked her way through school and then signed away five years of her career to forgive her student loans.
“How long until you think you’ll be ready?”
“Depends on what I need to be ready for.” He set his cup on the nightstand and reached for her to run a hand along the smooth expanse of her thigh.
She jumped at his touch, standing up quickly. “If you do that, we’ll spend the rest of the day in Nebraska.”
Lust in Translation Page 7
