Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emma wanted Michel. She thought a few dates would be enough for her to get him out of her system—enough to convince her that their attraction was fleeting. She thought with no common background, she wouldn’t enjoy his company after the first spark of interest faded—that every new difference she discovered between them would dull his charm.
Well, she thought wrong. Every day she spent with him, experiencing his first times together, made her crave more, and her desire for him only grew stronger.
Maybe she wouldn’t be able to get him out of her system until she gave in to their attraction. Sharing that first time with him might be the only way she could move on. She had never felt this way about another man. And there was no guarantee that she would ever feel this way again. What were the chances she would have this kind of white-hot chemistry with her perfect-on-paper husband? An arranged match was not based on passion after all.
There was a certain grace to going with the flow. She didn’t want to be left to wonder what it would be like—to be left with regrets. She wanted to surrender to the desire and see where it led. Emma prided herself in leading her life with purpose and effort—her every choice well thought out and deliberate—but in this instance, she wanted to stop thinking and weighing. She wanted the mess, imperfection, and freedom of letting go. Just this once.
With her mind made up, she deserved a medal for not jumping Michel in the back seat of the car. She liked Sophie too much to force her to sit through that. But Emma was relieved when her new friend bid them good night in the foyer and headed for her suite.
“Shall we?” Michel’s voice was low and intimate as he held open the door for her.
Even though it wasn’t her first visit, the elegance and opulence of the presidential suite awed her anew. The expansive view of the city lights drew her to the floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the living room. As she stared into the night, she ran her hand down the thick ivory curtain pulled to one side, which was as heavy and soft as she’d imagined.
Michel came to stand behind her—not so close that he crowded her but close enough for her to feel the heat coming off his body. She reached her hand behind her until he clasped it, and she tugged him closer to her. Then she leaned the rest of the way so the back of her body was pressed against the front of him and dropped her head against his shoulder. His free hand curved around her waist, his touch firm enough to feel possessive, and her breathing grew shallow.
“Do you ever get tired of this view?” she asked to distract herself from the nerves quaking in her stomach.
“Not tired”—his eyes met hers through their reflection in the window—“but it pales in comparison to the view I’m beholding now.”
She didn’t even try to fight the blush rushing to her cheeks. Too shy to speak, she pulled his arms tighter around her and laid her hands on top of his. He lowered his head—his jaw and then cheek brushing against her temple—until his lips traced the curve of her ear.
“Ready for your dessert?” His warm breath made her shiver. She turned around in his arms to claim his lips, but he stepped back from her and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. When she blinked up at him, he said with a boyish grin, “This way.”
Emma gasped as they walked into the dining room. The table was lined from end to end with gorgeous desserts of all kinds—from perfectly ripe strawberries to Sachertorte—and a bottle of champagne sat chilling on ice.
“How did you manage this?” she whispered.
“Sophie’s a good friend.” Michel cleared his throat. “I asked her to make a quick call before we headed back to the hotel.”
“She’s an amazing friend.” Emma smiled up at him, placing her hand on his chest. “It’s a shame this isn’t the kind of dessert I’m craving right now.”
“Wait. I want you… more than you can know… but I need to tell you something first. The something isn’t bad, but it might change things between us.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “God, I don’t want things to change.”
Emma didn’t want things to change either, especially not now. She slid her palms up his torso and wound her arms around his neck. His eyes darkened, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. The practical side of her brain told her to hear him out, but her body only wanted him. She felt intoxicated with lust, and she liked it. But he tucked his hands into his pockets and held himself stiffly away from her.
“Emma, please. If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop. I—”
“Perfect.” She rose to her tiptoes and drew his head down until they shared each other’s breath. Whatever he had to tell her could wait until she satisfied this roiling need inside her. He said it wasn’t bad, right?
Michel gave in with a helpless groan. His mouth claimed her as he spun them around and pushed her back against the wall. When she parted her lips to invite him in, he didn’t hesitate, and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, digging her fingers into the thick softness of his hair. His hands finally escaped the confines of his pockets and roamed her body like he wanted to touch her everywhere all at once.
No hint of his polished demeanor remained as he wrapped her leg around his waist and ground his hips against her, pinning her to the wall. He growled his pleasure against her lips, and she grew a little wild, her hands fisting in his hair. An affronted gasp escaped her when he broke the kiss, but he moved his mouth down the length of her neck, and her skin heated from his hot breath. His fingers dug into her waist when his lips arrived at the soft curve of her shoulders.
“God, what is this… jumper?” he rasped, sounding tortured. “These shoulders have been driving me out of my mind all night.”
He none too gently scraped his teeth along one shoulder, making her hiss and writhe against him. He licked away the sting with leisurely strokes of his tongue. Then with one rough tug, he pulled her top down to her waist, trapping her arms by her sides and exposing the lacy strapless bra cupping her breasts. Slowly, too slowly, he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her chest until he reached the mound of her breast.
“Michel,” she breathed. “Please.”
“What do you need?” He dipped his tongue under the top of her bra and swept it across her breast. So close but not close enough to the aching tip. “This?”
“More.”
Emma arched her back and thrust her chest into his face. She whimpered with relief and anticipation as he hooked his finger into the cup of her bra and tugged it down. Just as his lips brushed the hard tip of her breast, someone pounded on the door loudly enough to rattle its frame.
The pounding was soon accompanied by a booming voice. “Michel. Open the fucking door. I need to speak to you.”
Michel straightened and ran a hand down his face, muttering a string of curses. When his fingers grazed her sensitive skin as he straightened her clothes, she sucked in a sharp breath. His lips curved into a crooked smile even though he was clearly frustrated with the interruption.
“I’m sorry.” He placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
He walked out of the dining room at a clipped pace, and she heard him throw open the door. “This had better be—”
“Mother’s coming,” the other man said, cutting him off.
“Aunt Celine? Coming? To Los Angeles?” Michel’s voice rose with each question.
“Yes, yes, yes.” The door clicked shut, and footsteps clacked across the hardwood floor.
“But why?” Michel said. “She hates Los Angeles.”
“I don’t know. She suddenly decided I don’t visit Rouleme often enough, so she is coming to me.”
“Christ, Gabriel.” Michel’s voice had returned to its normal decibel, but the panic remained. “She could… complicate things.”
“For both of us.”
“You still should’ve come back another time like I asked you,” Sophie said stiffly. Emma didn’t realize she’d come, too. Great . Was anyone else coming? Right, Aunt Celine. She leaned her head against the wall, blowing out a frustrated breath. “This conversation could’ve waited.”
“Waited?” the man called Gabriel roared. “She is going to board the plane in less than three hours.”
“Three hours?” Michel croaked. “Why wasn’t I informed of this? If the king—”
“Michel.” Sophie spoke over him as Emma tried to remember whether Rouleme was a monarchy. “Perhaps you two should have this conversation in private.”
“What? This is private.” Gabriel sounded confused. “And like I said, this can’t wait.”
Emma sighed, shoulders drooping in disappointment. It didn’t sound like Michel’s guests were going to leave anytime soon. And she couldn’t hide out in the dining room forever, listening to what was meant to be a private conversation. So, after running her hands down her hair and making sure all her clothes were in order, she stepped out into the living room.
She cleared her throat to alert them to her presence. Michel spun around to face her as though he’d forgotten she was there. Not very flattering, considering where they’d left things, but he still wore a panicked expression. This Aunt Celine must be a force of nature to shake him up so much. Emma forgot about her frustration at the interruption. She wanted to pull him into her arms to ease his anxiety about whatever was happening.
“You know my mother will…” The tall, raven-haired man trailed off as his green eyes landed on Emma and widened. She stared right back. He was ridiculously attractive. “That is… she…”
Silence descended in the room as everyone collectively scratched their heads as though they had no idea what to make of her. Awkward .
“Hi, I’m Emma.” As she took an uncertain step toward the trio, the gorgeous newcomer blinked awake and a warm smile spread across his face.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” He walked the rest of the way to her and held out his hand. “I’m Gabriel.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Emma shook his hand, feeling a bit dazed by the brilliant flash of his white teeth and the piercing green of his eyes.
“He’s my cousin.” Michel came to stand beside her and planted a hand on her lower back. Gabriel noticed his possessive touch, and his grin broadened. With mischief glinting in his eyes, he held on to her hand a second longer than necessary until Michel continued in a clipped tone, “He’s also a professor at USC. He teaches philosophy.”
“Wait, you’re not… Are you Professor Gabriel Laurent?” Emma gaped at him. Michel shot her a surprised glance. “You’re the… Sphinx ?”
“You know who I am?” His cousin’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“My friend Sarah Bae is your TA.” Maybe she shouldn’t have called him the Sphinx to his face, considering her friend was the source of that information. “She… she speaks very highly of you.”
“Is that so?” Gabriel said with a bemused twist of his lips.
“Uh-huh.” Emma nodded enthusiastically, hoping to smooth over her faux pas. “She said she was learning so much from you. Sarah loves being your TA.”
“Hmm.” The Sphinx didn’t seem sold.
“Don’t mind him. He isn’t all that petty,” Michel said in a stage whisper. “He just likes to speak in impossible riddles.”
“That will be all, wanker,” Gabriel retorted with an imperious wave of his hand. “Now, leave me in peace to get to know the lovely Miss Emma.”
Michel shook his head in feigned disgust, even as a smile tugged at his lips. An incredulous laugh huffed out of Emma. With their wry humor and irreverence, she could tell the two men would be trouble together. It was yet another side of Michel that she was discovering for the first time. She should probably be worried that she liked each new side of him better than the last, but she couldn’t stop the affection stealing into her heart.
“I’m surprised you have time to flirt, Gabriel.” Something sharp lined Sophie’s voice, and her poker face took on a hard edge. “I thought you had an urgent matter to discuss with the… with Michel.”
“It’s called avoidance.” Gabriel winked at Sophie, which made her narrow her eyes into slits. Emma had the good sense to be terrified, but his smile only grew wider. “Knowing my mother, she won’t be up for another hour. I’ll call her then and have a heart-to-heart with her. For now, I’d like to have a nice visit with Emma.”
“Thank you so much for the dessert, Sophie,” Emma blurted, desperate to disperse the tension in the room. “Speaking of which, why don’t we go have some now? There’s plenty for all of us.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” the other woman said stiffly.
“Come now, Sophie. What’s the harm in having dessert with us?” Gabriel’s voice was a velvety purr. “I promise I won’t bite.”
“No, you won’t”—her hands fisted at her sides—“because I’ll knock every one of your pretty teeth out if you do.”
Gabriel didn’t even flinch. “Are they?”
“Are they what?” Sophie spat.
“My teeth. Are they pretty?” He practically fluttered his eyelashes. Growling in disgust, Sophie spun on her heels to leave, but he caught her arm and said in an abruptly subdued voice, “Don’t leave. I’ll behave.”
Sophie looked poised to shake his hand off and walk away, but she heaved a deep breath and turned around instead. Not looking at Gabriel, she headed for the dining room and announced to no one in particular, “I’m staying for the crème br?lée.”
Emma raised her eyebrows at Michel, curious to death about the vibes between Sophie and Gabriel. He shrugged and shook his head in a way that said I don’t have the faintest clue. He was no help. How could he not know what was going on between his cousin and his bodyguard? Well, she would go straight to the source.
She caught up with Sophie and linked her arm through hers. “I’ll share my sticky toffee pudding if you share your crème br?lée.”
The other woman offered her a rare smile. “Deal.”
Emma hadn’t forgotten what she and Michel had started in the dining room. But if she couldn’t satisfy that craving tonight, she might as well nose around the intriguing dynamic between Michel’s rakish cousin and his stoic bodyguard. She might even have some choice relationship advice for Sophie. After all, Emma was a relationship expert by proxy.