Chapter 10
“T ouch me,” Nimue murmured, a raw note to her voice.
Jean-Luc felt a wave of desire rush through his body at those words. He was already hard for her. He’d been having to keep himself steady since the moment she’d entered the cottage. He kept his focus on her, what she needed. That helped when all he wanted to do was take off all her clothes and make her his.
“It’s all I want,” she whispered.
But he was going to show her that she wanted so much more.
He swallowed, knowing he needed to pace himself. He could not become too embroiled by his own powerful needs or he would ruin this for her. He could hurt her. And he would never forgive himself if he did that.
Everything he’d done this night had been to prepare her and to make this easier for her. He knew how important this was. Her first experience would frame so much about how she thought of lovemaking and men.
He refused to disappoint her. He refused to disappoint himself.
Slowly, he leaned forward and slipped the cup of hot chocolate from her grasp.
She was attempting to look bold, seductive even, but she could not hide her vulnerability. She was trusting him with so much. It was but another reason for him to remain in control.
He placed her cup next to his, hoping the hot chocolate had helped her body to relax.
He slid towards her, taking his time. There would be no rushing. Last time in the cottage, he had acted rashly. It had shocked him how quickly he had delved into passion. His brain had been completely gone. It had been a miracle that he had not tried to take her then.
She stirred his passions so intensely, as they’d never been stirred before.
Oh, he was no stranger to all of this, but the way she had made him feel? It had been like brandy lighting a flame. He’d been scorched with it. It had been bliss, and like a man who loves his drink, he’d wanted more.
This time, he would awaken her without letting his primal self take over.
He let his gaze trail over her face, taking in the delicate curves, her pink lips, her peach cheeks, her bright gaze that was now alert and full of anticipation. Her face was open and, despite her clear anxiety, full of that joy he had come to expect from her.
Yes, there was no denying that there was a hint of the simple fact that she had never done this before lingering in that gaze.
Gently, he lifted his hand and stroked his fingers into the coils of hair knotted atop her head. How he adored her locks. He twisted one about his finger, marveling at the silken strands. He wanted to bury himself in the waterfall of her hair. He longed to brush it and make it shine.
Perhaps later, he would. But now was not for him. Now was for her.
Patiently, he slid his fingers into the coiffure and, one by one, he slipped the pins free, dropping them each methodically to the floor until her hair tumbled down her back. He carefully smoothed it out for her, until it shone like gold in the firelight.
“Look at you,” he growled. “There is nothing more stunning in this world.”
She laughed, nervous.
“Non, ma chérie. Do not laugh. For you are a goddess to this mere mortal.”
“Jean-Luc,” she blurted, her cheeks a bright pink, “you can’t talk like that.”
“Pourquoi?” he asked, surprised that he was suddenly uttering more French. Over the years, he’d spoken less and less of it, thought of it less too, as if he could eradicate his past by avoiding his language.
But she made his brain do odd things.
She made him do odd things! For never could he have imagined preparing a cottage for the seduction of a young English miss.
Yet here he was. He’d taken great pains to make it perfect for her. And every moment of it had given him pleasure. More pleasure than he’d felt in years.
“If you do not like the Frenchman in me,” he teased back, “we should cease.”
“It’s just so…”
He arched a brow. “Yes?”
“Well, a bit hard to believe.”
“Are you so boring?” he tsked.
Her mouth dropped. “I do not think you can accuse me of such a thing.”
He laughed softly as he leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No. You are right. But if you will not allow me to speak as I wish to, to tell you how superb you are? There is only one thing to do.”
He kissed her other cheek, and then let his mouth linger over hers.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“You should choose an Englishman who will be more efficient.”
“No, thank you,” she replied with her own arched brow.
“Then allow me to call you a goddess, a muse, a creature that I should kneel before. For you are.”
With that, he rose off the cushions and onto his knees, then pulled her towards him. He angled her head, and given their height difference, he was still able to kiss her with ease whilst she stayed seated.
Oh, how he adored her taste. Hot chocolate still lingered in her mouth, and he was determined to taste every bit of her. This night, he would kiss every inch of her skin, he would know every curve. Every hill and valley and shadow. And he would know her mind too.
She was still for a moment, but then she kissed him back with equal fervor. Much like the last time, the two of them gave into the wildness of their embrace.
There was nothing like it. He marveled at the power of the simple touch of her lips upon his.
He stroked his hand along her neck and then, slowly, he kissed his way down to where her neck met her shoulder. He lingered there for a moment, drinking in her perfect scent.
She shivered as if she loved the sensation dearly.
He placed another soft kiss there and then began to work at her gown.
Much to his pleasure, she assisted him. And within a few moments, she was naked before him.
She sat, her pale body illuminated by the fire, proudly and clearly trying to act as if this was all normal to her.
How he admired her bravery.
“We shall make this fair, no?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes searching over his body as if she could see through his clothes.
He took her hands and brought them to his cravat.
She tugged at it with a bit more force than necessary, but he did not try to help. He wanted her to do this. After a moment, she figured out the ornate knot and then she grew in confidence, working at ties and buttons, slipping his clothing off, one item at a time.
Then, at last, the two of them were naked together.
“Come,” he urged, and he brought her to her feet.
The two of them stood in the golden light of the cottage, silent, completely bared, taking each other in.
He loved the look on her face as she studied his physique. Her cheeks brightened again and her lush lips parted.
Her nipples tightened, and he let out a low growl and crossed the small distance to her. He could not stop himself from taking her plump breast in his hand and teasing her nipple with his thumb before he took it into his mouth.
She let out a surprised cry and arched against him. The reaction gave him much pleasure. Slowly, he began to leave open-mouthed kisses along her ribs, down her torso. Then he knelt again before her.
He took one of her feet and guided it up to the bed of cushions, leaving her open to him.
“What… I…”
“Hold on to me,” he instructed.
Carefully, she placed her hands on his shoulders. And he studied her folds, the beautiful pink petals that he had spent so much time fantasizing about since he had received her invitation.
This… This was what he had been waiting for.
Nimue felt utterly exposed and yet completely powerful at the same time.
It was the oddest mix of emotions and sensations. She had no idea what he was up to as he propped her foot on the cushions and stared at her most secret parts.
Then he showed her.
He leaned forward and teased her with his tongue.
A startled yelp escaped her lips, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, nearly toppling over onto him, but she righted herself just in time.
The shock quickly disappeared and that remarkable sensation he’d introduced to her in this very room began to take hold again.
His mouth worked over her sensitive spot, kissing, licking, and then his fingers were at her entry again.
What a shocking thing!
But like last time, he was gentle. He slid one finger inside her, finding a spot she’d not known even existed until he had come into her life. Then, slowly, he inserted another finger.
He thrust them in and out in a rhythm that matched his mouth.
Before she knew what was happening, she was gone again, her mind whirling apart as bliss tightened her body and brought her exquisite release.
A low note of male satisfaction hummed from him as if this was his sole purpose in life. Then he stood and took her hand, guiding her to the bed.
She felt languid, as if half dreaming.
The cottage was so perfect. He was so perfect. And in that moment, despite the fact she knew it couldn’t be true, she felt loved.
He eased her down onto the fresh bedding that smelled of lavender, and he climbed beside her. His hard sex bobbed against her thigh.
“This is a great honor, Nimue,” he rumbled, the word honor somehow more powerful with his French accent. “Thank you for choosing me.”
“It couldn’t be anybody else but you,” she replied honestly. And that was true. She didn’t know how, but it was.
Jean-Luc’s gaze sparked at her words and some emotion she could not name traveled over his face. Then he was kissing her again, kissing her in that wild, passionate way that shoved all reality to the brink.
She held on to him and savored the way it felt as if they were disappearing into each other.
His sex pressed at her entrance and, for a moment, she was pulled back away from bliss and piercing pain shot through her.
He held her tightly, cradling her, kissing her softly until that pain vanished.
Once her body had relaxed again, Jean-Luc took up his rhythm, the one that seemed to bring her to ecstasy every time.
Now, his hard body moved against hers, and he seemed lost in her. He braced himself on his arms as his body pistoned over hers.
His face was open, without guile, and for a moment she knew she was seeing Jean-Luc without any armor or protection.
He was letting her in, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever known.
Before she could think long on it, his hips angled and he was stroking that spot at the apex of her thighs again.
All thoughts vanished; only sensation remained. And the two of them clung to each other as they crashed into paradise.
He shook and called out her name before he collapsed beside her.
His breath came in great shuddering takes. “I have never…” he gasped. “That was unlike anything I have ever felt.”
She wondered if that was simply more of the Frenchman in him. But as she looked upon him, stretched out beside her, she did not think it was idle boasting.
He looked completely vulnerable, completely himself.
Her heart was skipping so fast it was almost frightening. She’d thought this would simply be two bodies meeting. Oh, how wrong she’d been.
For they were two souls that had met in the night, and now they were forever intwined.
There was no debating that. And as terrifying as that was, she would not trade it for anything in the world.