Awaken the Senses Page 11

  Pacing the guestroom, Alexandre gritted his teeth and accepted that he couldn’t go to her in this state. Not for anything did he want to scare her. But neither could he remain in this room without going insane. A few seconds later, he was by the doors that led out to the second floor terrace. Before heading down the steps that led from the terrace to the ground, he set the latch to ensure the doors would lock behind him.

  And then he started walking, his aim to exercise off the pounding, almost hurtful need in his belly. He didn’t pay any attention to where he was heading, focusing only on the burn of muscle as his legs strode over the ground.

  Some time later, he looked up and halted in shock. Charlotte’s cottage lay barely a dozen feet away. Even after deciding not to inflict himself on her, he’d come to her, driven by impulses beyond his control.

  He stared at the rectangle of light in the bedroom window. So, his lover was still awake. Waiting for him? Immediately, any good the long walk might’ve done was gone. He was rock hard, so aroused that he thought he might die if he didn’t have her. Clenching his fists in the pockets of his dark slacks, he turned, intent on going back.

  “Alexandre? Is that you?”

  Startled, he spun around. She was standing in the doorway of the cottage, barely covered by a white shirt. Immediately, he scowled. “Why are you standing there dressed like that when you didn’t know who it was?” He couldn’t control the harsh rebuke in his tone. Charlotte aroused his most protective instincts and they had nothing of sophistication about them.

  “I only opened the door fully when I realized it was you. Why are you prowling out there?” She took a step out the door.

  “Stop right there.”

  “Why?” Hurt echoed in her voice.

  “Don’t sound like that—it kills me.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I’m on edge tonight. I can’t be sure what I’ll do to you if you’re silly enough to let me get my hands on you.”

  She started moving again. “That sounds very intriguing. What do you think you might do to me?”

  He growled at her, losing his civilized veneer as she came dangerously close, close enough that he could tumble her to the ground and take her right now. The stark eroticism of the image ripped his already tenuous control to shreds.

  “You must go back inside.” He forced the words out. “Right now, I can’t be the lover you need—I want you in a way that would shock you to your toes. I want you hot and wet and writhing under me. Definitely under me,” he murmured, his proprietary instincts taking over as he glimpsed the sensual curiosity in her eyes.

  “I want to drive into you so completely that you forget I’m not a part of your body. I want to touch your breasts and legs and anything else I please, any way I like, for so long as I choose. I want your reaction, your cries, your hunger, but I don’t want you to be an equal party. I want you to surrender to me. Without compromise.”

  Charlotte swallowed at the description of just what her not-so-sophisticated Alexandre wanted from her. He looked like a wild wolf, undisciplined and ravenous. For her. Only she would do, she realized slowly, the femaleness in her exulting at having enticed such an intriguing male.

  She refused to turn away from him tonight, not when he’d given her such tenderness the night before. The commitment implied by his starkly possessive words stunned her. This went beyond pleasure, beyond desire. Was she ready to accept the claim he wanted to make?

  Mouth dry, she raised her fingers to the hem of her shirt and without giving herself time to think about it, tugged it over her head, leaving herself naked. “I’m all yours,” she whispered, dropping the shirt to the ground.

  He didn’t ask for any more permission. Instead of ravaging her, he moved around her, stalking, prowling, as if he were inspecting every inch of her. The look in those sinful eyes was distinctly proprietary. It made her feel treasured, desired, wanted. There was no room for embarrassment or shame—his open need for her gave her the confidence she needed. As a woman. As a lover.

  The throbbing between her legs increased, beating in time to the rapid thudding of her heart. She needed to touch him, but he’d asked for complete surrender and she’d acquiesced. So she remained silent and let her wild wolf move to her back.

  His hands settled on her hips. She jumped.

  “I’m going to take you out here, with the darkness and the stars for company.” It was a husky description. Moving her hair aside, he kissed her neck, nipping at her. “I so enjoy the way you taste, kitten.”

  After his words of raw hunger, she expected him to take her quickly. There was no fear in her. She trusted Alexandre to care for her, even in his passion. And she was ready for him. He brought the sensual, pleasure-seeking woman in her to the surface, turned fantasy to reality.

  Strong hands roamed down her body. One slipped between her legs, shocking a gasp out of her. Seconds later, it slid down her thigh, urging her to part her legs. Feeling wild and untamed and uninhibited, she did as he asked, shifting her stance so that she was shamelessly open.

  His fingers feathered through her curls and then they were gone. She felt his body heat and nothing more. A second later, his hands were on her hips and his shoulders were wedging her thighs apart and his mouth was on her like a brand. Her legs threatened to crumple as sensations bombarded her, hot and vicious and pleasurable enough to make her drunk. One big hand slid up to flatten against her belly and he began to knead her taut flesh, even as his tongue did things to her that had her shaking in reaction. Clutching at the hand on her abdomen, she widened her stance even more, unable to resist his silent request.

  The hand on her hip clenched, the thumb rubbing across her sensitized skin. “Tu es très belle. You are so beautiful.” His words stroked her senses, that voice of his like black velvet against the most hidden part of her. And then he began to flood her with pleasure, suckling and teasing and loving.

  She wanted to plead with him to finish, but something kept her silent. Perhaps it was an awareness that tonight, Alexandre needed to claim her his way—a way that was untamed and utterly without boundaries. Maybe she should’ve been afraid of such a claiming, fearful that he’d take everything she had and leave her desolate—but she hungered for it, hungered to give him what he needed.

  The first tumble into the maelstrom of erotic pleasure caught her unawares. One moment she was drowning in sensation and the next, wild shocks rocketed through her body, squeezing a scream from her throat and causing a volcano of heat in her core.

  Opening her eyes, she fought to stay on her feet. Alexandre stood up behind her, his arms keeping her upright. Shifting her hair to one side, he nibbled at her neck, one big hand smoothing its way up her body to cradle a breast.

  “Alexandre,” she murmured, too sexually sated to be anything less than totally giving, totally his.

  Instead of answering, one of his roving hands dropped lower, into her damp curls. The sudden shock of heat was a surprise—she hadn’t believed her body could feel anymore. But as Alexandre kissed her neck, one hand teasing at her nipples while the other spread through her intimately, she found she’d been wrong. Desire tore at her, making her lose what breath she’d managed to catch.

  She rubbed her face along his sleeve. His shirt was soft against her cheek, the scent of him locked in the fibers. “You’re making me melt,” she confessed, even as she felt another release approaching. It was an affectionate whisper.

  He continued to nibble on the highly vulnerable skin above her pulse. “Again, kitten.” It was barely a sound in the darkness, so husky the words were almost lost.

  The impact of her second orgasm hit her as hard as the first. But instead of a shocking inferno, this one was a slumbering fire that continued to rage when she’d thought it would flare and burn her out. Alexandre’s fingers kept working their magic and she kept tumbling over and over into the smoldering heat. Lights flickered inside her closed lids as she moved her body on his fingers, seeking more of the drug he’d addicted her to.

&n
bsp; He gave her what she wanted. More and more and more, until her body was so limp that the aftershocks racing through her only made her moan, too weak to do anything else. Alexandre shifted and suddenly she was in his arms, heading toward the cottage.

  Looking down into Charlotte’s eyes, Alexandre was lost. He’d wanted to take her out there, under the night sky, but something primitive and possessive in him refused to subject her to the hard earth. Protecting Charlotte was already so much a part of him that he didn’t even acknowledge it as an impulse. It just was. Pushing through the open door of the cottage, he kicked it shut behind him.

  The beacon of light that was her bedroom drew him. Charlotte didn’t say a word, rubbing her face against his chest, her arms around his neck. There was such complete acceptance in her that he was humbled, the tyrant in him soothed by her willingness to give him everything he needed. When he lay her down on the bed, she raised her arms. He went to her on a husky groan, covering her body with his.

  Under his hands, her skin was smooth, honey-golden and warm. “I love the way you feel, ma petite,” he murmured, licking the shell of her ear. “The way you move.” Kissing his way across her jaw, he suckled her lower lip into his mouth. “The way you taste.”

  She shivered and whispered something he didn’t catch. He just knew she wasn’t saying no. Rubbing his face against her neck, he breathed in the scent of her, aware of her fingers threading through his hair. When he nuzzled his way down to her breasts, those graceful hands clenched in expectation. A smile on his lips, he brushed a soft kiss over the slope of one lush breast.

  Under him, she squirmed. “Alexandre.”

  Chuckling, he moved his head and took her nipple into his mouth, having already learned what she ached for. The taste of her sent his senses spinning, drawing him into a vortex of desperate need that he couldn’t fight, didn’t even want to fight. Under him, her body arched, sensuous and compelling.

  Hands on her rib cage, he held her still as he indulged in her. Her other breast tasted as beautiful as the first. A taste wasn’t enough. Sucking hard, he held the taut morsel in his mouth while her fingers moved restlessly through his hair to grip his shoulders. He could feel her heart thudding in her chest, rapid and furious.

  Then she whispered his name and his hunger became voracious. “I need to be in you.” He rose over her.

  Her eyes seemed to darken even further as her hands slipped from his hair and down to his belt. He let her get rid of the belt and unzip him. When she closed her hand over his length, he came close to shattering.

  Somehow finding the strength, he pulled away only far enough to ensure her protection. Returning, he wrapped her legs around him and nudged at her with his pulsing arousal. Regret that he couldn’t feel the silk of her skin through his trousers and shirt tempted him to stop and remove his clothes. Then the ravenous need he had for her grabbed him by the throat and retreat was no longer an option.

  Proving her sensuous nature, Charlotte playfully slipped a finger into his mouth, permission for a dance he’d never take by force, no matter his urgency. Suckling at the offering, he pushed into her body in one heavy stroke. Tight, her muscles resisted at first and then pulled him into melting heat and sheer pleasure. Her finger slid out of his mouth, her hands going to clutch at his shoulders, her hands strong despite their apparent fragility.

  With her body clenched around him, Alexandre had no ability to think. Glancing at her passion-drenched face to ensure that this was giving her as much pleasure as it was him, he let the final rein slip from his hand and surrendered to the firestorm. Around him, her body was sleek and giving, a perfect fit.

  An absolutely perfect fit.

  Charlotte Ashton had been made for Alexandre Dupree, was his last thought before his release hit him hard and low, powerful enough to have him seeing sparks. And then Charlotte moved under him and he realized that ecstasy could multiply until there was nothing but sensation sizzling over his skin and shooting through his bloodstream.

  He surfaced to find his face buried against the curve of his lover’s warm neck, his body cushioned by hers while they remained very intimately connected. Not wanting to leave, he licked at her skin. She shivered.

  “Do you want me to move, ma petite?” He liked the feel of her silky soft body crushed under his.

  She nuzzled him. “No. But could you take off your shirt? The buttons…”

  She didn’t have to say any more. He realized they had to be pressing into her skin. Barely rising off her, he said, “Undo them.”

  “You like giving orders too much,” she grumbled, but her lips were trying not to smile. Her fingers undid every single button and he shrugged it off. “What about the rest of your clothes?” she said, when he settled back over her.

  “To remove them I’d have to withdraw from you. I don’t want to.”

  He felt her blush through the fine skin of the breasts pressed against him. “You were speaking to me in French while we…”

  He allowed himself to luxuriate in her body, rolling the exotic scent of her in his mouth. “Oui, it’s my native tongue. Did you not like it?”

  “You know very well I liked it. I just want to know what it meant.” Her arms were around his shoulders, lazily stroking.

  Content, he lay there and let her pet him, the driving hunger in him calmed by her unconditional giving. “My words would make you blush.”

  Her lips parted softly at the roughness in his tone and the primitive in him punched to the surface. Leaning close, he began to whisper translations of his more intimate whispers.

  “Alexandre!”

  Looking down into her scandalized face, he broke out into a smile. “Is this the same woman who stood so proudly naked under the stars only minutes ago?”

  Alexandre’s sensual voice threatened to make Charlotte lose her train of thought. “Why?” she asked.

  “Why?” He gave her a quizzical look.

  “Why were you so edgy tonight?”

  The skin of his face tightened. “I’m not ready to tell you that.”

  “You can’t keep your secrets forever.”

  “Non,” he agreed. “But I’ll keep them for tonight.”

  Alerted by something in his tone, she kissed him gently. “I know about commitment and loyalty.”

  He didn’t respond with words but she knew he’d heard. For now, it was enough.

  After that night, Alexandre’s attitude toward her changed. He was no less tender, no less careful with her body, but there was a proprietary hunger in his eyes that stunned her each time he looked at her. And his touch…It made her shiver to think of the sheer possessiveness in it. Spending nights in his arms had become more than an indulgence—it was now a necessity.

  But the nights were not all they had, she thought with a smile. Somehow, despite their schedules, they’d managed to sneak away for rides to San Pablo Bay and dinners in the nearby town of Sonoma. There’d also been a repeat of that magical moonlit picnic. It hardly seemed possible that she’d only known him for just under two weeks.

  With every moment she spent with him, her sense of rightness grew. Nothing had ever felt as perfect as they did together. Nobody had ever made her dreams come true as he did. When she was with him, she even managed to forget about the envelope from the vital records office that she waited for every single day.

  Part of her was glad it had been somehow delayed, giving her a few more precious days to pretend that her mother was alive. But another part of her wanted the truth so badly that sometimes, her whole body hurt. Hurt that only Alexandre’s loving could diffuse.

  Humming under her breath, she dethorned a long-stemmed rose in preparation for its use in an arrangement. How was it that a sophisticated way-out-of-her-league Frenchman knew her so well, so perfectly?

  Perfectly.

  Like a mental gunshot, that single word triggered an unexpected and awful train of thought. It was as if her subconscious had been waiting for the dam of her conscious mind to break, allowing the fl
ood of information to roar through her like a river of betrayal.

  Her hand stilled. Last night’s loving under the starlight had been perfect. It hadn’t been similar to what she’d fantasized about, it had been perfect. And before that—the picnics, the dancing, the romance—it had all been perfect, down to the last detail. Her mouth dried up as a horrible suspicion reared its head. The rose dropped from her hand. It couldn’t be possible, she argued, how could Alexandre have read her journal?

  Her thoughts raced back to the day he’d given her the bouquet, the day she’d found him standing outside the greenhouse. It was feasible that he’d gone searching for her and run across her journal. That day, she’d argued against her instincts, telling herself she was being paranoid. But what if she hadn’t been wrong about the knowledge in his eyes? Her hand clasped the stem of another rose. Thorns stabbed into her palm. Wincing, she drew it away, blotted off the tiny pinpricks of blood and resumed dethorning.

  It was useless. Her mind continued to circle around the almost certain knowledge that Alexandre had invaded her privacy. More than that, by never owning up to what he’d done, he’d cheated the faith she’d placed in him. Throwing down the flowers, she stalked out to her bike. The ride should’ve calmed her down but with every moment that passed, she became more and more convinced of the rightness of her suspicion.

  Humiliation and anger burned in her cheeks, pain throbbed in her heart. She’d trusted him absolutely and all this time, it had just been a game to him. God, how he must’ve laughed to discover that in her fantasies, quiet Charlotte Ashton imagined herself a temptress. Tears threatened but she fought them off with fury.

  She headed straight to the winery, ignoring the beauty of the spring-green vineyards lit by the late afternoon sun. Alexandre was standing by the steps leading down to the cellar, head bent and face set in thoughtful lines as he spoke to an assistant winemaker. As soon as she entered, his head came up, almost as if he’d scented her presence.