The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance

CHAPTER EIGHT

HE’D PULLED THE sheet over her when he’d left the bed but now one foot had escaped. Its delicate arch teased him, taunted him with a want he’d hoped to ease by now.

Bastien stared at it, willed himself not to reach for it.

Focus!

There were important things to work through, figure out. He needed to leave, to return to his own bedroom.

You’re in your own bedroom.

Hell, he was losing it. His jaw clenched tight.

Since he’d stepped foot inside that courtroom and seen Ana again everything had fallen off-kilter. He was being buffeted by emotions he didn’t know what to do with.

His brain especially seemed to be playing tricks on him. Otherwise why would he have imagined Ana’s virginity? And why would the thought have sent such a thrill through him? Why would he be perched on the edge of the bed now, watching her sleep, wishing he could wake her up and experience their incredibly exhilarating lovemaking over and over again?

He shoved a hand through his hair and started to rise.

She stirred, lazily stretching, tempting the sheet down a little further. Fire roared through his veins. He had to get out of here. There were several guestrooms where he could spend the rest of the night.

Seductive eyes opened, focused on him. ‘Is it still night?’

‘Yes.’ He steeled himself against the exquisitely languorous look in her eyes and madly scrambled for something to say. ‘How long have you been celibate?’ He hadn’t meant to ask that, but the words spilled out anyway.

She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet to cover her breasts. He curbed the urge to rip it away, feast his eyes on her—

‘My whole life,’ she answered.

He froze. ‘You were a virgin?’

The thought confused, astounded...pleased him? He pushed the last feeling away, but it kept returning.

‘Yes.’

He’d been her first. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Why did his voice sound so damned hoarse?

‘What difference would it have made?’

Her voice was sleep-husky, her hair spilling in bed-tumbled disarray over her naked shoulders. The sight of the white sheet against her tanned skin did incredible things to his libido.

He felt himself slipping under her spell again. Confusion mingled with lust and self-loathing sent him to his feet. ‘A hell of a lot!’

‘I tried to tell you—’

‘You didn’t try hard enough!’

‘But you knew...you must have realised...’

His mind raced. He’d been eager, uncouth. Like a wolf during mating season, his need had come second to none. He’d been the animal she’d accused him of being. All he’d wanted was to trap her underneath him, feast on her softness and incredible responsiveness. Nothing else had mattered but having her.

Not even the fact that she’d been a virgin.

He sank onto the bed, his thigh tantalisingly close to that tempting foot. He swallowed as fire shot through his pelvis.

‘Bastien, no one held a gun to your head. You could have stopped any time you wanted.’

The truth of the statement shamed him even more. ‘No, I’m afraid I couldn’t have.’ Because he’d been too far gone to stop. ‘But if you’d told me things would’ve been different.’

She licked her lips, sending his heart-rate rocketing. Mon Dieu, he had to find some distance or this thing happening between them would consume him whole.

Her foot flexed.

‘How different?’ she husked out.

‘I would’ve been gentler, taken more time and care.’

You still could... The thought teased the fringes of his mind. Possibilities tantalised.

Before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed her foot.

Her breath caught and her foot arched into his touch. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. Any slower and one of us would’ve resorted to violence.’

Reluctantly, his lips twitched. Moving closer, he lifted her foot into his lap. Slowly he massaged her soft skin, fascinated by her tiny gasps of pleasure at his simple caress. The sheet slipped lower. With a firm tug he pulled it away.

She blushed. Unbidden, their conversation on the tarmac replayed in his mind, now taking on a different meaning. Her blushes weren’t a clever tool to entice a man. She blushed because she was genuinely innocent.

The thought shocked him into stillness. Questions tumbled through his mind and assumptions disintegrated, fuelling his confusion. She wasn’t the wanton seductress he’d thought her to be. She had been a virgin.

He had no right to be here with her.

As if diametrically opposed to the idea, his hand tightened around her ankle.

She responded by flexing her foot directly into his groin.

‘Mon Dieu, Ana.’ Desire, fierce and hot, pulsed through him with an urgency that stopped every other thought. His gaze rose along with his temperature, moved over the smooth suppleness of her calf, her pale golden thighs, to the wet glistening of her sex nestling between the triangle of carefully groomed hair. He paused there, heady satisfaction settling inside him at the thought that he’d been her first.

As if reacting to the heat of his gaze, a delicate shudder raked her frame.

His scrutiny continued upward. Over her flat stomach up to the soft mounds of her breasts. The sight of her nipples fuelled his need to taste them again. Her chest rose and fell with short, frantic pants that set his own heart thundering. Her swollen lips parted, her pink tongue resting against them.

When his eyes finally captured hers it was the look in the chocolate depths that floored him. Daring, innocent anticipation. Need. A heady combination that had him discarding her foot along with his intention to leave her be and search out a different bed for the night.

He’d promised himself one night, after all. He’d stick to that promise. By morning he should be rid of this insane, inexplicable desire for Ana Duval. Once he had it bottled and shelved he could rest easier.

Rearing over her, he kissed her. She parted for him immediately, her tongue searching out his with a newly gained confidence that threatened to blow him away. She was learning fast, his Ana.

No. She wasn’t his Ana. She was just his for the night.

The thought sent a strange bolt of displeasure through him, but not enough to stop him from groaning his satisfaction as her hands closed over his back, her fingers beginning a delicate caressing of his flesh that sent blood surging into his groin.

He was so ready, so tortuously aroused, he feared he’d explode any second. Pulling back from the kiss to give himself a little breathing room, he dropped light kisses on her jaw, her delicate earlobe.

And still she continued to wreak havoc with her fingers. In desperation Bastien plucked another condom from the bedside table and slipped it on. He’d promised her it would be different this time, but he wasn’t so sure he could keep that promise.

But he would try even if it killed him.

‘Turn over.’ At least if he wasn’t looking into her achingly beautiful face or dreaming of kissing her senseless he might be able to pull back from the brink of this insanity that engulfed him.

‘What?’ Even hesitant, her voice hitched, filled with an anticipation that didn’t help his control one little bit.

Except the thought of making love to her like this was even headier than taking her missionary-style. He cursed under his breath. He’d started this. He aimed to finish it.

He lifted a forefinger and slowly rotated it. Eyes wide, alluring beyond measure, she reversed her position.

If he’d hoped for a little reprieve he was sorely disappointed. Her back—slim, smooth and faintly indented with her delicate spine—taunted him. It dipped to her impossibly small waist before flaring to accommodate feminine hips and a firm, rounded behind.

Everything about her was elegantly feminine, intensely seductive—especially the way she caught and pulled her hair over one shoulder so she could watch him watching her.

He bent forward, placed his lips on her first vertebrae. Another delicate shudder racked her body. He kissed his way down, determined not to drown in her moans of pleasure. He reached her waist and spanned it with his hands, glorying in the velvety warmth of her skin as his tongue dipped into the faint dimples just above her buttocks.

‘Bastien...’

His name had never sounded so arousing. He sucked in a fortifying breath and closed his eyes to restore a little sanity. When he glanced up, her gaze was locked on his.

She was ready. He was more than fit to burst. With one kiss deposited on each globe of her rear, he kissed his way up her spine.

He settled them on the bed, her back to his front. Reaching an arm around her, he lifted her leg and pulled it back over his hip. This time when she turned to look at him he was ready for her. He planted a hot, hungry kiss on her soft ruby-coloured mouth.

‘This is my favourite position. Tell me if you like it.’

He thrust inside her, giving a muted sound of pleasure when her tight inner muscles closed around him. One hand on her stomach held her firm as he thrust again.

She cried out, sending his senses spiralling higher.

‘Do you like it?’ He had to know—had to hear her say it.

‘Yes.’ The word was dragged out of her. It echoed through the room and infused him with a satisfaction he’d never craved before. Spearing a hand through her hair, he held her, kissed her as his hips rocked back and forth.

Her arm curved over the back of his head as if to hold him.

I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine. The words filtered through his subconscious. Their deeper meaning threatened to invade his mind, but it splintered apart with the force of his desire.

Ana tore her lips from his, her breath fracturing as she neared her peak. He caught a delicate earlobe between his lips, his own need clamouring for release. Minute spasms caressed his shaft. He groaned, watched her eyes flutter closed as her bottom pushed forcefully against his pelvis.

‘Bastien!’ She grasped his arm, convulsions raking through her as she gave in to her climax.

With a roar that drowned out her cries he thrust one last time. He came with a rush that emptied every last coherent thought from his mind, leaving him free to soar as he’d never soared before.

At the back of his mind he knew he held her too tightly, that he risked bruising her soft skin, but he needed to hold on because she represented the only safe thing to hang on to as he experienced an unprecedented level of pleasure.

Bastien told himself it was impossible, that he was merely imagining it, but he closed his eyes, unwilling to confront his feelings as spasms continued to rake his body.

When they finally subsided he dropped one last, spent kiss on her jaw. Words, unfamiliar and unnerving, trembled on the edges of his mind.

‘You were magnifique, ma petite,’ he croaked. He wanted to say more, but he stopped himself just in time. He was already way out of his comfort zone.

* * *

Ana came awake slowly. Which should have warned her that something was different. Normally she awoke instantly, her mind fresh, alert.

It was almost as if her subconscious wanted to protect her from the harsh reality of the morning after.

She knew immediately she was alone.

His scent clung to the sheets. She steeled herself not to bury her face in the pillow, breathe deeply and imprint his potent smell on her senses for all time.

He’d kept his word.

One night only. The fact that he hadn’t stuck around till morning caused her heart to shrivel with pain. He’d slept with her and now he was done with her.

Remembering their lovemaking—how wanton and needy she’d been—brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. That last time, just as dawn had broken, she’d thought she’d die with pleasure...had even lost touch with reality for several seconds.

Was this what drove her mother? Why she chased after men with such relentless purpose? If this feeling was what she experienced every time she found a new man then Ana could understand a small measure of why her mother did what she did.

Ana’s every sinew sang with fulfilment even though she knew she’d never relive this experience again.

The knowledge shortened her breath, lodged fear deep in her heart, making her fiercely glad Bastien wasn’t around. She had a hard enough time hiding her feelings from him normally. Raw and naked like this he would have spotted her turmoil in seconds. Every single promise she’d made to stay away from him had come to nothing. In the end she’d fallen into his arm with damning ease.

She shifted and immediately her body reminded her of last night. She replayed his hoarse cries in her mind, her own pleasured gasps as she’d attained peak after peak of bliss.

Bastien had helped her to explore the hitherto terrifying sensuality that had made her fear intimacy. And for that she’d always be grateful.

But the night was over.

Sitting up, she raked a slow hand through her tangled hair and tried to stem the deep yearning in her heart. She had no business yearning. She just had to focus on getting through the next few weeks. Then she could focus on the rest of her life.

Standing, she snatched up her clothes, deliberately keeping her gaze from the rumpled bed. Donning her skirt and top, she quickly left Bastien’s room.

But, standing under the spray of the shower, Ana couldn’t stop her hands caressing her skin. The deep knowledge that something fundamental had changed in her was unshakeable.

Unwilling to dwell on her thoughts, she hurriedly dressed in a grey linen skirt and a pink cashmere top. Leaving her hair loose, she applied a light gloss to her lips. Slipping her phone into her pocket, she went downstairs, her heart clambering into her throat at the thought of seeing Bastien again.

She found him at the dining table, showered and dressed in a blue shirt over which he wore a black sweater. She couldn’t see the rest of his attire from where she lingered in the doorway, but she knew it would be no less immaculate. His head was bent over his newspaper, a lock of dark golden hair falling over his brow.

The yearning rushed back, fiercer than ever. Ana stood frozen in the doorway as the realisation of how much yearning she seemed to do around Bastien hit home.

He raised his head and speared her with those mesmerising eyes. With a casual flick of his wrist he discarded the paper, rose and approached her.

One hand traced her jaw, caressed it slowly until he captured her nape. Holding her still, he kissed her, deep and long.

Every single thought fled her head.

‘Bonjour,’ he greeted her when he lifted his head. ‘You slept well.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yes.’

He smiled. ‘You must be hungry.’ He led her to the table, waited until she’d sat, then offered fruit and poured her a cup of coffee. Slicing open a croissant, he buttered it, added a light spreading of jam—just the way she liked it—and passed it to her.

‘Thank you,’ Ana murmured, and took a bite, confusion warring with the flames of desire in her belly. She’d expected Bastien to return to his impassive best now that their night of passion was over. Instead he was being charming, pleasant.

‘The production crew arrive tomorrow,’ he said, biting into a halved peach. ‘So today’s your last day of leisure. What would you like to do?’

She blinked. ‘Uh, if you don’t mind I’d like to take Rebelle out for a ride.’

‘That’s one idea.’

His gaze drifted over her, triggering a blush that flooded her whole body. Her hands shook as she lowered her cup to its saucer.

‘What’s another?’

He casually reached out and traced her cheek with gentle fingers. ‘I can ask Chantal to prepare a picnic lunch. We could take the boat on the lake this afternoon.’

Surprise followed by pleasure lit through her. ‘Okay, you win. That sounds wonderful.’

His smile widened, causing her heart to hammer wildly. ‘Bien.’ He motioned for her to eat and picked up his paper. ‘I have a few things to attend to this morning. Meet me down at the pier at one.’

‘Okay.’ She half cringed at the breathy anticipation in her voice.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘What are your plans for the rest of the morning?’

‘I noticed you have some audio books in your library. You don’t mind me borrowing one, do you?’ she asked.

A light frown touched his brows. ‘Of course not.’