CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
T HEY ’ D TRAVELLED IN secret to Aston’s épernay property a week ago. It was a magnificent, sprawling stone farmhouse on fifty acres of land. Aston had arranged for on-site security, who lived in a converted barn a discreet distance from the main house. She welcomed their presence, even though for the main they stayed out of sight.
It was as if she could finally relax. Aston had taken some time away from work to spend with her, apart from a brief trip back to Paris when she’d been sorting out staff and her new charity. Aside from the early hours, when Aston took to his gym or put on a heavy pack and trekked across the land in training, they’d explored the countryside. He’d taken her to Reims, where they’d visited a cathedral, a museum and had a quiet dinner. He’d promised her a balloon flight over the vineyards.
Then their nights...when it was as if she came alive. The hunger, the need, consumed her. The depth of her emotion she had trouble fathoming some days might have scared her a little, had Aston not always been a grounding presence. When one night she’d cried because the orgasm, what he made her feel, had been too much, he’d simply held her. Kissed away her tears and made love to her again, slow and aching.
Then the very next morning he’d gone out to train once more. She admired his dedication, and loved what it did to his body, all the hard, tempting muscles, but she worried about him. Worried about how tired he sometimes seemed, as if what he was doing was an obligation. She’d tried to raise it with him, asking what mountain he was planning to climb, but his response was always the same. He’d dismiss her concerns and then kiss her till she forgot any questions and simply immersed herself in the passion that exploded between them.
He worshipped her, like the goddess he’d proclaimed her to be at the Spring Ball. Her scars were ignored. They’d become part of her. Even she was coming to accept them, feeling...beautiful once more. He’d given her that—a sense things were possible again. That there was an exciting life and a future ahead not only for her, but for them .
As if she’d conjured him, the man walked into the room, showered and wearing a dark suit and blood-red tie, whilst she stood in the middle of their bedroom in only a robe. He was so handsome, so solid. He was kind to her in ways entirely unfamiliar. Everything Aston did made her feel safe and wanted. Not for what she looked like but who she was. She felt it when they discussed her charities, his own interests, how they might work together. He treated her like a true partner.
It was as if he’d finally woken her from a life where she’d been sleepwalking. She hadn’t known how exhausting the constant tension had been, always being on edge. What Aston had done for her fuelled an anger that her parents could have done something too, had they wanted to. But she didn’t have time to think about a family who hadn’t thought much about her.
Although thinking of family... It hadn’t taken long for Aston’s parents to extend an invitation to the chateau and tonight she’d be meeting them for the first time.
‘Not quite ready yet, I see.’
He gave her a wry and knowing grin. Her heart fluttered. Aston might be handsome all of the time, but when he smiled it was as if a supernova had exploded in the room. She looked at the bed, the clothing on it. This was an important night, and she had no idea what to wear.
‘It’s easy for you. A suit’s like a uniform.’
‘It should be easy for you too. You’ll be magnificent in whatever you choose.’
‘How about you choose for me?’
His smile softened. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
He moved to the bed to sift through the clothes, where only last night they’d made love and she’d come so many times she’d begged him to stop. Yet even though they’d plunged into an exhausted and replete slumber, he’d still risen at four and worked out for two hours.
‘This.’
He held up a dress in fabric of gleaming duchess satin with a boat neck that his secretary and the woman in the boutique had begged her to try on and buy, so she had. It had three-quarter sleeves. Sleek and impeccably fitted. Its styling was reminiscent of fifties elegance yet carried a flirty edge, with a little bow belt.
It was blood-red, the same colour as Aston’s tie. The only other time she’d worn a little red dress... Her breath caught, her heart rate kicking up. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, remember. Instead, she focussed on Aston, and her heart-rate settled.
‘You’ll look magnificent in red, ma déesse .’
My goddess.
The emotion welled inside her, a sensation that she could do anything. Around Aston, her fears seemed to fade. It was as if he saw her , the woman, not the ‘perfect princess’ on her shaky pedestal. It was a position she’d never wanted but had been given regardless by the press, the public and her own family. Ana had come to realise the night of the accident wasn’t her fault. She’d done nothing wrong. She and her friend had been victims of circumstance; she wasn’t being punished by the universe. She’d wanted to wear a red dress once. Why couldn’t she wear one tonight, on this important night, meeting her future parents-in-law?
‘Would you help me do up the zip?’
‘I’ll help you dress...and undress later.’
A glorious wave of desire washed over her, her nipples beading in her bra, a warmth blooming at her core as Aston carefully removed the dress from the hanger and undid the zip. He handed it to her. She stepped into it and turned her back to him. He lifted her hair and goose bumps sparkled over her skin. As Aston began slowly doing up the zip, his lips dropped to the base of her neck, drifting over her skin in feather-light kisses. Her eyes fluttered shut.
‘Are you trying to convince both of us to stay home?’
‘It’s just a taste of what’s to come,’ he murmured against her overheating flesh.
‘Promises, promises.’
‘They’re something I always keep. Rest assured, I will deliver.’
She smiled as he inched the zip slowly upwards, tooth by tooth.
‘Is that a promise or a threat, Mr Lane?’
Aston chuckled, the sound dark and throaty as he finished with the zip, hooking the dress at the top. ‘It can be anything you want, Princess.’
In that moment, she couldn’t answer. It was hard to breathe, with the effect he had on her. Instead, she turned round and smoothed her hands down the perfect, heavy silk, doing up the belt. ‘What do you think of your choice?’
‘Parfaite,’ he said.
If a look could set her on fire, Aston’s could burn down the house. He stalked to the dresser, as if he somehow needed to get away from her, picking up her ring which she’d placed in a small bowl whilst she looked for something to wear. He made his way back to her and gently took her left hand, sliding the magnificent gemstone onto her finger. It twinkled in the soft light.
‘However, I’m coming realise a terrible omission. I never asked you to marry me.’
He was right; those words had never been said. Now they felt important. So much had changed. When she’d first left the palace all she’d wanted was to flee. He’d taken her away, given her space and time, and since then everything had been assumed. She couldn’t imagine her life without Aston in it.
‘Your ring on my finger and an official announcement is kind of a giveaway.’
He’d been right: convenient didn’t mean cold. It was as though she was already bound to him in ways she could never have anticipated. A formal proposal seemed unnecessary, yet why did she feel too big for her own skin right now? Her hands trembling, heart pounding in excitement.
‘Your acceptance is important to me. To hear the words, not to assume.’ He cupped her cheek. ‘Will you marry me, Ana? My princess, my goddess .’
Tears burned her eyes, the back of her nose. This moment was so perfect and precious in its simplicity, brimming with emotion. She was so thankful that he’d helped her overcome her fears. The words from that night of her accident— no one but me will love you now —held no power any more.
Though in reality none of this was love...was it?
‘Of course there was never a doubt,’ she said. ‘You’ve given me everything.’
Though a tiny thought niggled the back of her consciousness. Had he truly given her himself? There was so much she didn’t know...
Aston dropped his head and kissed her gently, reverently, on the lips.
‘How I’m going to worship you later,’ he said. And there it was again, in the rumble of his voice, part-promise, part-threat. ‘Now, on y va , before you convince me never to leave.
Ana knew she’d be counting down every second till they returned home again.
Aston steered the car down the narrow roads from his farmhouse to his parents’ chateau. He should be tense about it. This meeting was a critical one, cementing his and Ana’s relationship in the eyes of his family—securing Girard in the process. In many ways he understood it would be difficult. He hadn’t really seen or spoken to his parents since their argument in anything other than a superficial way or when necessary for the business. Yet, despite the importance of this evening, a calm settled over him.
He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the vehicle following with his personal security, then to Ana, who sat in silence next to him. Once he might have schooled her on what to say to his parents about their relationship. Now he didn’t feel the need. The proposal tonight had cemented something, an honest and meaningful moment between them. Whilst he might not have wanted his parents to know their relationship was a convenient one, it didn’t feel so convenient now. Their attraction was a truth and everything between them felt real with her in his life, his bed, his future... Still...her silence now troubled him. What was she thinking? Was she having second thoughts?
Impossible. She’d all but suggested they might like to forgo dinner and spend the night in bed together instead. That didn’t speak of regret, but passion. Of course, it could be the simple fact of the car journey. Now he knew about her accident, her injuries, he took extra care on the drive.
‘You’re quiet,’ he said.
‘We’re visiting your parents. I’m finding the thought quite daunting. Usually when I’m meeting someone new a staff member would give me a dossier I could read about them. I feel under-prepared.’
He turned into the long, gravel drive of the place that he still thought of as home, even though he had houses all over the world.
‘There’s nothing more to know than I’ve already told you,’ he said. ‘You’ll be perfect.’
Even in the darkness he could tell she stiffened. ‘I’m glad you have faith in me.’
‘Don’t underestimate yourself.’
‘Everybody else seems to, of late.’
They pulled up at the front of the chateau. The grand building and the trees that flanked it were lit up with accent lighting in the darkness.
‘“Everybody” is not me. Remember who you are, ma déesse . Charming, kind...my parents will love you.’
Ana turned to him, the warm light from the house and garden painting her in gold. She smiled and his breath caught. Each one was such a rare and precious gift. Something seemed to snag in his chest—an unfamiliar sensation, hinting at possibilities which might be his if he simply reached out and took them.
‘Thank you for reminding me.’
‘Toujours,’ he said as he leapt out of the car and went to her side, helping her over the gravel drive to a broad stone staircase leading to the house. He took her hand, threading her fingers through his as they walked up the stairs. She was wearing heels, after all. He didn’t want her to twist her ankle on the stone surface.
‘This is magnificent,’ she whispered, the sound of wonder in her voice.
He chuckled. ‘You live in a castle.’
‘Whilst I lived there, most of it is a workplace rather than a home.’
As they reached the front door, Aston pulled a key out of his pocket. If he were formally disinherited, would his parents ask him to return it? It gave him a moment’s pause, hesitation. He reached out to put it in the lock when the door opened like a miracle. His parents must have been waiting for them on the other side. Knowing his mother, probably keeping an eye on the security camera in anticipation of their arrival.
He stiffened as his parents stood there. Since their argument, their demand he find a wife, he’d only spoken to them over the phone. His grip on Ana’s hand tightened involuntarily. She squeezed back, then glanced up at him with an eyebrow raised, a question on her face. He relaxed his fingers so as not to crush her.
His father was the first to smile. His mother soon followed. Ana wouldn’t know, but Aston could see the slight strain on both of their faces. Their expressions were not as open as he would otherwise have expected.
‘Hello, I’m Simon. This is Camille. Come in! Welcome to our home.’
They followed his parents into the house, to a sitting room where Aston knew pre-dinner drinks would be served. Aston introduced Ana with her official title. She blushed, her cheeks reddening, her flush heightened by the glorious colour of her dress.
‘Please, call me Ana.’
His mother walked up to Ana and kissed both her cheeks. ‘I cannot believe I had to find out my son was engaged this way, through the media .’ She glanced over at him, the words almost a rebuke, but also an acknowledgement of the distance between them.
‘We wanted to tell you, but we were outed before we could,’ he said.
‘It was all very sudden,’ Ana added.
‘And the ring. Excuse me for being gauche, but I must see the treasure which led me to discovering my son was engaged.’
Ana held up her hand, the perfect gem glittering in the light as she and his mother talked about the auction, the excitement.
With his mother and Ana engrossed in conversation, his father put a hand on Aston’s shoulder, an affectionate gesture. ‘You did well, son. I thought we could open this.’
He handed Aston a bottle. Aston whistled.
‘The 1972 vintage.’ It was a collector’s item, their most sought-after vintage of all.
‘Of course. It’s not every day our son gets engaged to a princess. You deserve the best.’
Aston might have imagined it, but his father’s eyes looked a little glassy in the lights. Simon turned away and began to pour, then handed out the glasses.
‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ he said. ‘To Aston and Ana. Congratulations. May you be as happy as Camille and I are.’
Aston took a sip of the magnificent wine. Its appearance represented a clear thawing of the froideur that had been between his parents and him. Any issues in their family tended to be settled at the table with food and wine. Hopefully tonight was no different.
Ana came to his side, smiling as she raised her glass and drank. She looked happy and more relaxed than he had ever seen her before. He watched on as she and his mother talked about her family, her school days. Ana laughed, listening to his mother recount stories of the antics the girls had got up to when they’d boarded. Ana’s mother had seemed to stay well out of most of the trouble, but still, anything that made Ana happy pleased him.
‘How did you both meet?’ his mother asked. A loaded question for sure, but an easy one to answer.
‘We met at a trade mission.’ Aston stilled. Ana answering first came as a surprise.
‘The moment I saw him, he caught my eye.’
Her admission surprised him even more. He’d had no idea she’d remembered him. That day she’d been the perfect ice princess—cool, polite, the consummate royal. Ana looked up at him with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes were full of emotion, something soft and warm. Warming him to his frozen core.
‘She caught my eye too,’ he said, the truth. He’d wanted to crack through her hard shell that day and find the woman beneath. The woman he saw now. ‘Then the Spring Ball. She was a goddess.’
‘You were a god.’
They were having a moment, something profound, he just couldn’t name what it was. Simon clapped Aston on the shoulder. ‘This story sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Camille?’
‘ Tout à fait . Although, I hope my son’s proposal was more romantic than his father’s.’
‘Why, what did Simon do?’ Ana asked.
His mother put her hand to her chest. ‘He made me climb a mountain with him.’
‘Goodness, which one?’
This was an old story, one of his parents’ favourites and one they often told. His father chuckled. ‘Camille makes it sound like a trial. It wasn’t so much of a climb, more like a walk—easy.’
‘It took five hours uphill. And Kosciuszko is a mountain. You told me it was the tallest in Australia. I thought it would never end.’
‘You survived.’ His father sounded wounded, but it was all an act. He still had a huge smile on his face.
‘I suffered, but then he went down on his knees and proposed, so I forgave him and said yes.’
‘Well, Aston didn’t ask me to climb any mountains,’ Ana said.
They all laughed, and he wondered, what if he’d asked? Would she have agreed? It seemed vital somehow to have the answer, although he didn’t know how to get it from her.
She gazed up at him, her eyes gleaming in the soft light of the room. ‘But it was a romantic proposal nonetheless.’
‘As we would have expected,’ Aston’s mother said, her own eyes glittering too, as if with tears.
A knot seemed to tighten in Aston’s throat. He took another sip of wine and swallowed it down.
A woman came through the doorway, one of the kitchen staff, who usually worked in the chateau’s restaurant.
‘Ah, dinner is served,’ his mother said. ‘To celebrate this momentous evening, we have our chef cooking for us. Please, come through to the dining room.’
Aston slid his arm round Ana’s waist, the exquisite red fabric of her dress smooth under his palm as they followed his parents through. As he pulled out her chair at the table, his parents gave Ana an indulgent smile.
A satisfaction settled over him that he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps not since Michel’s death. Everything was falling into place. For once, things were going to plan. The moment was so perfect and real, he might have scripted it.
As Aston sat at table, Ana placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed. They’d marry, he’d climb Everest, then look to the next mountain as Michel would have wanted. But, for now, there was nowhere he wanted to be in the world more than sitting next to her.
The dinner was exquisite, made by the chef from the chateau’s starred restaurant. Salad with vinaigrette, fish, boeuf Bourguignon, cheeses and an apple tart. Now Ana was delightfully full, replete with impeccable wine, food and conversation. Camille and Simon were gracious hosts. From Simon, Aston had inherited his blue eyes. From his mother, the dark hair and her effortless style. Such a handsome couple, she could see the love shining between them. The way they spoke, looked at each other. The glances. Their shared history and intimacies.
‘Love at first sight’, Aston’s father had said. She believed it. Why hadn’t Aston wanted something like that for himself?
She caught my eye too... She was a goddess...
Her breath hitched, the memory of that Spring Ball now fresh in her mind. The story they’d told. The attraction instant, like a thunderclap, for her at least. Had it been the same for him?
So many questions to which there were no answers, yet it all felt so real. She looked over at his parents and him, deep in conversation in the room they’d retired to for coffee after the meal had finished. There was a still strange undercurrent she couldn’t place, something that made her senses prick up, although it had eased as the night progressed. She could be overreacting, yet if the past six months had taught her anything it was that she should take notice when anything didn’t feel quite right.
It was clear his parents loved him deeply. Yet for some reason he held himself a little apart, somehow separate. She had trouble understanding it, but knew she needed to ask the question. Later, when they reached the farmhouse.
She sipped her coffee and looked into the fireplace, the flames crackling low, likely lit for ambience, more than the temperature. It added a beautiful glow to the elegantly furnished room that was full of French antiques like the rest of the house.
‘I’m so pleased he found you.’
Ana looked up. Camille stood next to her, a picture of sophistication in a fitted black dress with a beaded neckline.
‘So am I.’ It wasn’t hard to be honest now, about this at least. Ana couldn’t imagine being anywhere else than with Aston.
‘As a mother, I was gifted two wild sons. They took after their father.’
Simon didn’t look wild now, but not exactly tamed either. Though Ana had seen a gleam of mischief in his eyes earlier in the evening when he’d talked about his proposal.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you.’ Camille gave her a wistful smile. ‘I wondered what Aston might say to you about Michel. The loss is hard enough to bear for a parent but for a brother... They were inseparable. “The sun and the moon”, I called them.’
‘You named your last Grand Cru after Aston.’
She’d known that much. It had been well advertised. Aston was the face of Girard, and such a handsome face too. It was no wonder they wanted to capitalise on it.
‘ Oui . Michel was darker, more intense. Always another mountain to climb for him... Those two boys, forever planning their next adventure.’
Ana thought about the early mornings, the relentless training, how Aston pushed himself.
‘I don’t think Aston’s changed very much.’
His mother frowned, the movement so fleeting Ana wasn’t sure she’d truly noticed it. ‘You’ll be good for him. He’s always been searching...’
Ana suspected that he still was, and that she had no control over it. He continued to hold something back from her and tonight, she’d witnessed him holding back from his parents. What was it that drove him? She began to wonder whether he was truly happy with his life. Something painful and insecure knifed deep. Was he happy with her?
‘You know, when they were younger, he and his brother had plans. Michel wanted to climb Everest, all the highest mountains in the world. He wanted Aston to follow...’
‘That must have made you worry.’
‘I still do. Aston was determined to try Everest himself. Even after his father failed and his brother’s climbing accident...’
Ana stilled. It was as if her heart skipped a beat. Was that what Aston was training for? Why would he hide it from her? Something must have shown in her expression.
‘Did you not know?’ Camille asked.
Ana recovered herself and gave Camille her princess smile. Warm, practiced. Granted so many times it was imprinted on her muscle memory.
‘Of course,’ she lied, hating herself for it, but she was also practised in self-protection, especially after the last six months. ‘But I didn’t know about Simon trying, that’s all.’
‘When we married, had children, he stopped climbing the highest and most dangerous peaks. That’s what we hope for Aston. That with love and children he learns it’s the simple things that can be the true adventure.’
Ana wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know what to say. She grappled to keep the conversation going, remembering her breeding: if all else fails, talk about the person you’re speaking to. Smile, nod and engage, even if you’re dying inside.
‘You seem to have found that with Simon.’
They appeared to have a love that books could be written about. That movies could be made of. The dashing wine-maker from Australia and the chic French champagne heiress. Proof that love at first sight could happen, and could last.
‘I knew, from the moment we met, that I would always run into Simon’s arms if he held them open, and he would always catch me. I only hope the same for you.’
It was the kind of love Ana had dreamed of, but never expected. A love she’d always wanted for herself. A dream she now realised had never really died, and had been reignited by Aston over the past few weeks.
A dream she feared might now be slipping through her grasping fingers.
His parents’ driver picked them up to take them back to the farmhouse. Camille had offered a room at the chateau, but Aston had refused. Ana was happy about that. Tonight she’d learned so many things she wanted to talk to him about. Too many questions swirled in her head. Would he answer her if she asked? Her heart leaped to her throat, beating a sickening rhythm.
Aston held out his hand as they sat in the back seat, and Ana placed hers in his, their fingers twining together, grounding her. Part of being married was working through problems. They’d work things out. Love would come...
Love? Where had that thought come from? She needed to remind herself that Aston had sought convenient, even if he hadn’t meant cold. Goose bumps shivered over her skin as she’d remembered his return from Paris. The passion. How he’d bent her over the kitchen table, lifted her dress and made her cry out his name.
‘That went well,’ Aston said. ‘What did I tell you?’
‘I liked your parents a great deal.’
She meant it. They were a wonderful couple, warm and genuine—so unlike her own. Aston had been lucky with them. How would her life have been if she’d had the same? It didn’t bear thinking about.
‘They liked you.’
‘I hope so.’
‘How could they not? How couldn’t anyone?’ Aston raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. His lips were warm against her skin. Even in the back of the car, in the relative darkness, she could feel the heat of his gaze on her, the need, as if he couldn’t wait to get home. Her heart rate picked up. She couldn’t wait either.
There’d be no talking tonight, and that was okay. There was always tomorrow.
The car pulled up at their front door.
‘Would you like a nightcap?’ Aston asked as they got out of the vehicle and went to the front door. They’d had a magnificent cognac before leaving the chateau. That final drink had made her feel quite giddy.
‘No, I think I’d like to go to bed.’
The minute she said it, he eased her up against the stone wall of the entrance and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, slow, passionate.
‘What was that for?’ she asked with a laugh after he broke away, leaving her breathless.
‘For being perfect. I know you don’t like the word, but you are. Own it.’
He had some lipstick on his mouth from their kiss. She swiped her thumb gently over his perfect lips to wipe it away. He caught the digit between his teeth, his tongue smooth and slick over the pad of the pad her thumb. She had extensive experience of how that tongue of his could work magic on her body, make her mindless. As it was, all of her seemed to turn liquid. She wanted to melt into a puddle on the doorstep. She wondered how he managed to get the key into the lock and let them in.
She sauntered ahead of him as he followed, giving an exaggerated sway of her hips because he did that to her—made her feel beautiful. He’d shown her the power of her own sexuality. He groaned behind her as she began to walk up the stairs.
‘That dress will be the death of me. I’ve been wanting my hands on you all night.’
She made to turn as she entered the bedroom, but he placed his hand on her shoulder, stilling her. ‘Let’s get you out of your clothes.’
‘What about yours?’
‘Ladies always come first.’
Heat and need roared through her. She well knew how much pleasure this man could give her. She grew slick and wet between her thighs. Would there ever be a time she wasn’t ready for him? She couldn’t contemplate one.
He reached round her waist as she leaned back into his muscular body, her backside nestling against his hardness. She wiggled a little, for effect.
Aston chuckled into her ear. ‘Witch.’
‘I thought I was a goddess,’ she said through a smile.
‘If you don’t behave, I’ll revise my opinion.’
‘I don’t think you want me to behave, not really.’
Aston hesitated for a moment, his breaths heavy, before unclipping her belt and letting it fall to the floor. Then he pulled back and took her zip as he’d done earlier this evening, but this time in reverse, inching it down slowly, revealing her skin to the cool late-night air. As he did, Aston gently traced a finger down her spine. She shivered.
‘Cold? I’ll keep you warm, ma déesse .’
So, she was still a goddess. Ana smiled. Tonight, she felt like one. Aston eased the dress off her shoulders. It fell to the floor. Then he swept her hair forward, his breath drifting over her skin at the back of her neck. She closed her eyes at the pleasure of it, arching back as his lips touched the top of her spine.
‘You’ll be the death of me,’ he murmured. His hands stoked her gently, stroking the pale pink lace of her panties, her bra. Her nipples peaked where his fingers touched, as Aston plucked at them as if he were playing the finest of instruments. He certainly knew how to play her body.
‘Not too soon, I hope,’ she said, although he could be the death of her too, through unadulterated pleasure.
‘Greedy.’
‘For you, always.’
‘Then let me oblige.’
He unhooked her bra. It fell to the floor with the rest of her clothes, then Aston walked round to her front. Everything about him was taut—how he moved, the skin over his face betraying tension at having to maintain control. She loved how she affected him. Loved how he affected her too. He cupped her breasts, stroking his thumbs over her nipples, teasing them till they budded to tight peaks. The sensation arrowed between her legs, which trembled, almost unable to hold her upright.
‘Oh, God,’ she said.
‘You called?’
He knew the effect he had on her and clearly enjoyed it. His grin was a wicked one. Aston shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair. His belt and tie were gone in a rush too. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her, slipped her panties down her legs to the floor and she stepped out of them, and out of her shoes too, because she was now unsteady in her heels. Her toes sank into the plush carpet.
He slid his hand round to her buttocks, looking up at her, that sly, knowing grin still on his face. Then he brought his mouth to her centre. His tongue toyed with her body, the merest of touches. Not enough to take her over the edge, but enough to have her going up in flames. Ana speared her hand into his hair and gripped tight. He chuckled and kept licking and sucking until she was mindless, grinding into him. Yet he never gave her enough .
When he finally pulled away, she moaned, though it was almost a whine. Needy and desperate after being held on the brink of release.
Aston stood.
‘Bed,’ he growled. His voice was on edge, almost feral. She crawled under the covers, pulling them back for him too as he rid himself of the rest of his clothes. He was magnificent in the lamp light. The shadows his muscles etched. The strength of his biceps, the washboard ridges of his abdomen. Standing there, thrillingly aroused. He found protection and sheathed himself, then crawled over to her like a huge, hungry predator.
Her pounded at her chest, she was so aroused. Wet, ripe. Needing him in a way that was mindless, borne of pure instinct. She arched up into him as his weight came down on her. His body rocked against hers, a blissful promise of release. Her eyes fluttered shut as he positioned himself, notching himself at her centre. Her hands slid round his waist, feeling the power of his muscles under her fingers.
‘Open your eyes,’ he whispered, and she did. The look in his own eyes somehow melting yet hard at the same time. ‘You’re so beautiful when taking your pleasure. I want to watch you come. Want you to watch me.’
He began to ease into her and she moaned, not closing her eyes as he’d asked, watching him. The intensity of his gaze, his focus, was all on her. He thrust in gentle strokes, her body moving in perfect time with his. Something about this moment, their love-making, was so aching, so slow. His rhythm was deliberate and constant, building a burn between her thighs, deep inside. It was like a vice, the relentless twisting, tighter and tighter.
A small frown formed on Aston’s brow, but they didn’t take their eyes from each other. It was as if they had opened a door and were looking into each other’s souls.
‘A-Aston... Aston...’ His name came out as a chant as she teetered on a terrifying edge, afraid to fall because she feared something about tonight would change everything. All the while tears formed in her eyes, blurring him because the pleasure was so sharp and sweet she could hardly bear it.
‘I’m here. I understand,’ he said, his voice tight, as if barely holding on himself. ‘Come for me, mon amour .’
My love .
With that, she threw herself over the edge into oblivion.