Chapter 8 #2
"Good thing you told me, since you two look nothing alike," I joke. There doesn’t seem to be a recessive gene in this family. His brother looks just like him, only a little more clean-cut. Whereas Fabien, with his hair a little too long and unruly and a five o’clock shadow across his jaw, is a veritable caveman in a business suit, his brother looks clean-cut and polished.
Not a hair out of place, his clothes pressed and fitting him perfectly, and I suspect when I draw closer, he's going to smell really, really good.
But when he shakes my hand, it's warm but rough as if he's only gotten dressed up for the occasion but works with his hands quite frequently. He looks over at Fabien. "We need to talk, brother."
"We will. We had some trouble getting here, so we need some downtime before we discuss anything. Unless it's pressing?"
I love that he refers to an engine failure, an emergency landing, and an impromptu flight to Paris as “some trouble.”
Their mother looks from one to the other, her lips pressed in a tight, thin line. She opens her mouth as if to ask something, then snaps it shut and shakes her head. “If you knew something, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
Fabien only nods.
Thayer shakes his head. "You know we would. And no, Fabien, nothing that can't wait for a few hours.” He seems the responsible type, so I can pretty much conclude that Fabien is the bottom line. Why does that not surprise me?
“Come,” his mother says, gesturing to the stairway. “I’ll show you to your room. Fabien, you have two hours before everyone will arrive for the rehearsal.”
“She’ll be staying with me, Maman,” Fabien says. He leans in and kisses her cheek. “She won’t need the guest room.” When she gives him a pained look, he shakes his head. “Just don’t tell Grandmére, and it will be fine, okay?”
“It’s not that easy,” she says, shaking her head. “You know how she is.”
“I don’t care.”
“Fabien, what happened on the way here?” Thayer asks. He hangs behind his mother, hands in his pockets.
Fabien quickly fills him in as we walk.
Thayer frowns. Behind him, uniformed staff scurry from room to room, their arms laden with flower arrangements. Outside the window, not one but two gardeners tend the lawn while another crew tends to the flowers. They have staff for everything.
Thayer speaks in a low voice but not so quietly I can’t hear him. “Do you think it was a deliberate sabotage?”
Avril looks sharply at Thayer. Here, underneath the overhead lighting where she isn’t in shadow, I can better see the signs of aging.
Hair graying at the temples, and a subtle weariness around her eyes, though the wrinkles tell me she likes to smile.
“That’s a conversation you should have later, when you catch up. ” In other words, not in front of me.
We reach a closed door. “We will definitely catch you up later. We’ll see you at the rehearsal.
” Fabien’s just dismissed both of them but neither protest. I wonder if the family dynamics are as formal as the house.
With his father gone, is he the head of his house?
Though parts of Paris are progressive, I’m not sure the Gerard family has quite adapted.
“Thayer, let’s check on your cousin. For all we know, he’ll show up at the rehearsal in casual clothes.” Avril winces before she turns and gives me a parting smile. “See you soon.”
Her heels click on the hardwood floor as they walk away.
Fabien presses his thumb against a small panel to the left of the door. There’s an audible click before he opens the door.
Wait, what? Why would he have a security measure like this within his family home? I can’t shake the feeling there’s something about this family I should fear, but they all seem so pleasant.
He guides me in and shuts the door behind us.
We’re alone.
Before I can open my mouth to speak, his hands are in my hair and his mouth closes over mine. I melt against him and anchor myself by winding my arms over the broad expanse of his shoulders.
Oh, God, does this man know how to kiss.
What was I worrying about a second ago? Right now, my entire world is alight with color and heat and an insistent throbbing between my legs that makes me moan into his mouth.
His tongue strokes against mine. I lean into him, kissing him back.
I love the rough feel of his hands in my hair, on my shoulders, down the length of my body.
He hikes me up with his hands under my ass.
My legs wrap around his body. He walks backward toward the bed that flanks the very center of the room.
Unlike his room in Corsica, this is a smaller bedroom with little more than a huge bed and a small sitting room behind it.
“Clothes off,” he growls. “You’re mine for the weekend, and I’m not going to waste one single goddamn minute.”
Glad we cleared that up.
I have questions and fears and I can’t shut my mind off, but when he meets my frantic hands to help me undress, I come pretty damn close. I want to taste him. I want to feel him. I want to make him moan with pleasure just like he made me.
“They’ll hear us,” I protest, which earns me a surprising smack to the ass. My pulse spikes as heat flares along my skin.
“Stop protesting. I told you you’ll be in trouble if you disobey me.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, leaning into it. I’ve role-played so many times I know what it is I like and what I need to fake. There’s no faking how much I enjoy being overpowered by him.
“You sure?” I press.
The pressure of his hand at my throat makes me freeze. A gentle squeeze, and I’m gasping for breath. My pulse races. Is this it, then? The real Fabien will threaten and hurt me?
But the next second, his lips are at my ear, and he releases me. “Don’t push me, woman,” he growls. The sudden fear and power make a delicious warmth spread throughout my entire body until I’m squirming and eager. Is this how he plays?
“You’re mine, Nicolette. We have a deal, don’t we?”
“Mhm,” I nod as he licks the column of my neck and nips at my collarbone. My pulse gallops in my chest.
“We already covered the fact that I like to be in control. I like to dominate. And when it comes to sex…”
“The kinkier the better?” I supply. “Yeah, I can get behind that.”
“Perfect,” he whispers. “We start right now. I want your hands behind your head like you did before. But this time, you close your eyes. If you open them, I’ll take you straight across my knee then make you watch while I come all over your naked body and leave you panting.”
Well, then, if we didn’t just jump straight in with both feet.
“Yes,” I say, playing right along. “Yes, sir.”
“Will you obey me, then?”
“I will.”
“Good girl. What a very good girl. You deserve to be rewarded richly, Nicolette. And don’t worry about anyone overhearing us. This room is as far away from anyone else as you can get. I chose it on purpose.”
Of course he did.
“Now. Do as I said.”
I’m completely stark naked on his bed. Exhausted and worried and so in my head I can’t shake it.
But I want to obey, I want to see what he’ll do to me next.
So I lace my fingers behind my head, leaving my body exposed and vulnerable.
I feel the weight of him on the bed. His hands on my knees while he draws my legs apart.
“Jesus Christ,” he curses. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Look at you.”
Most men are turned on visually. I love that he likes what he sees.
With my eyes closed, I feel my cheeks heat. I want to open my eyes. I want to see him looking at me hungrily, but I force myself to obey him. He told me exactly what would happen if I didn’t.
I start at the feel of his warm hand on my hip, a gentle stroke that makes me sigh into his touch.
I wait to feel him touch my breasts or my ass, but he doesn’t.
His touches are sensual and possessive, but nearly chaste.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, a kiss to my temple, his hand on the back of my neck.
I’m boneless and panting when I feel the weight of him on me.
“You can open your eyes,” he whispers.
I obey. I watch him as he looks at me as if I’m a masterpiece. I shiver in anticipation.
“I want you to watch me fuck you,” he orders. “Watch me.”
I hungrily watch as he strips out of his clothes with firm, confident moves.
His shirt falls to the bed. I stifle a moan when he grabs the hem of his tee and tugs it off in one swift movement, revealing toned abs and a smattering of dark curly hair across his chest. I want to touch his body and feel his latent strength, but something tells me to wait.
Next, his belt, followed by the rest of his clothes.
I hold my breath. I’ve never wanted a man inside me so badly in my life.
Holding my gaze, he spreads my legs. Guides himself into me.
Slowly strokes with a firm thrust of his hips.
I’m so ready for him, I whimper when my sex clenches around him.
My heart beats faster to the steady tempo of his lovemaking.
Sparks of electricity dance across my skin, and when my arms lace around his neck, he holds me to him.
“Fabien…” I don’t know why I whisper his name, but when he brings his mouth to mine, I shatter into brilliant fragments of bliss as he shudders with his own release.
He holds me in the quiet aftermath, our breathing still ragged.
I feared his obsession. I feared everything he’d say and do. I feared how he is.
But now I’m wondering if I’m not the one obsessed with him.