Authors: Jenna Bayley-Burke
He rolled toward her and she slammed her eyelids closed. She did not want to catch a peek at anything she’d have to block from her mind later. Still, she sensed his hand nearing her. She started when the heat of his fingers seared her cheek.
“Why are you so frigid?”
The giggle bubbled up without warning. Some things just did not translate well. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in his confused expression.
“
Ce qui est drôle?
” He’d reverted to French again.
“Nothing is funny.” She turned into his hand, his touch steaming the otherworldly cold away.
He cleared his throat, blinking away sleep as he propped up on an elbow. “Then why did you laugh?”
“Pick a language.” She smiled, trying for a distraction as she pulled the covers tighter in an effort to warm the rest of her.
He blinked again, starting to actually look awake. “What happened?”
“My room kept getting colder and colder. I figured yours must be the same way, so I came in here so we could leave. But your bed is so warm.”
“Your room is cold?” He got up, the full moon spotlighting an amazing view of the smooth muscles of his broad back and lean contours of his bare behind. Darkness shrouded the rest of him as he crossed the room.
With a deep breath, she pulled the warm air into her body, her brain starting to spin again. The hotel probably rigged some kind of cooling system to the room to ensure guests would have stories to pass on to other tourists looking for a ghost sighting. Still, she wasn’t about to pass the night in there.
She was still so cold her fingers ached, which meant getting out of his bed was not an option. She’d have to try and fall asleep here, except she was nearly naked, and he was completely
au natural
. A surge of heat passed through her, and then she swallowed a laugh.
Typical. She’d fallen into a fantasy of spending the night in bed with a naked, gorgeous Frenchman and she had to worry about frostbite.
Sure he’d kissed her, so thoroughly she understood why his country got credit for inventing the kiss, but that didn’t matter now. She was, for lack of a better translation, frigid.
Hearing footsteps on the hardwood floor, Jaime wanted to close her eyes so as not to be tempted by Xavier’s masculinity, but she was still more spooked than she cared to admit. The bed dipped beside her and the back of his warm hand pressed against her forehead.
“You’re still cold.” He pulled at the quilt covering her, and she pulled back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her tone veered into a sharp upper register.
“Warming you up.”
She shook her head, each muscle aching at the movement. “Not that way.”
“J’aime, don’t be ridiculous. You are freezing.” He tugged at the quilt again. Her numb fingers were no match for his determination.
She shuddered when he slid in beside her, but not from the cold. Every one of her nerves were wired, sparking as his hands worked over her body. She basked in the sizzling sensations his fingers provided. The tension lessened while she eased back up to temperature, her body both relaxing into the warmth he offered and taut with anticipation.
Concern softened the angles of his face, his warmth seeping into her every place their skin touched. A thick, muscular leg pressed between hers. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch when she pressed her icy feet against his firm calf. It had to be torture for him, but it was absolute pleasure for her.
“You’ll never complain about cold feet in bed again after this.” She spoke to break the spell silence was having on her libido. The devil on her shoulder taunted that there was a much faster way to stop feeling so cold.
“This is a first.” His touch drifted lower on her back, below the protective cover of her tank top. “Why did you wait so long to tell me? You could have caught, what’s the word for
gelure
?”
That word wasn’t in any French textbook she’d ever used. “Hypothermia?”
“No, not
hypothermie
. When the fingers get stiff.”
“I think you mean frostbite.” She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, his scent clouding her mind like an opiate. “I’m surprised you didn’t freeze in there.”
He cleared his throat and rolled her over with the ease of a rag doll, pressing his chest to her back. If it didn’t feel so good, she might have objected to the way his hands pressed at her hips.
“If you’d stayed longer in that room, you’d be as cold as I am.” She turned her head to watch his intent expression, wondering if the sensuality of the moment were only in her head.
“You’re not so cold anymore.” His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her firmly against him, against the proof of just how hot she could be.
Soft lips brushed against her cheek, and they warmed in a flush of anticipation. He raised his head slightly, just enough for her to flicker a gaze at the smooth, voluptuous lips she wanted to feel anywhere he was willing to put them. A wolfish grin played on his face, moonlight twinkling in his eyes as he leaned toward her for more.
Yes, kissing a naked almost-stranger in his bed while wearing next to nothing wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, but it simply couldn’t be helped. His mouth pressed to hers and her mind spun, her body responding on instinct. Her lips parted, her apprehension escaping as he held her tight.
Still chilled, the warm moisture of his kiss began to heat her from the inside out. Each pass of his mouth was harder, more insistent, more addictive. His hands began to explore, one reaching for her panties while the other slid to cup her breast.
The sheer force of her yearning to indulge in the moment freed the bonds of innate shyness. She never did anything without a plan, but there was a build-up of energy in the room, something static and intangible that needed to be released.
Without breaking the kiss, she turned toward him, wanting the feel of his body beneath her hands. Flattening her palms against his defined chest, she realized they were almost the same temperature. Like magic, he’d brought her in from the cold, showing her the kind of pleasure she’d only read about.
The man gave an entirely new definition to kissing. His lips sent desire burning through her veins, stoking the fire smoldering deep in her belly. Almost in a trance, she couldn’t think, couldn’t rationalize, couldn’t do anything but feel the reality of the man after the unbelievable happenings of the night.
He moved with a languid confidence, as if he knew she’d wait forever for his next touch. His hands splayed across her back, stroking the length of her spine, massaging the last vestiges of cold from her muscles. It felt amazing, but she didn’t want to wait. Waiting might lead to thinking.
She writhed against him, moaning softly as her thigh brushed against the evidence he was as ready to come apart as she was. With a groan, he rolled her to her back. His hands formed to her breasts, pushing her tank top up in the process. She made short work of the unnecessary garment, tossing it aside.
Hot breath caressed her already tight nipples and they puckered, impatient for more. He grazed one tight bud with his stubbled cheek. Her skin was so sensitive she felt every prickle.
Sultry heat from his mouth soothed the scratchiness. Each skilled working of his lips and tongue on her breasts sent a desperate throb between her thighs. She squirmed beneath him, wanting to relieve the tension growing so tight she felt she might snap from the overwhelming need.
A fever of lust passed between them as one of his hands slid down her soft stomach and over the cotton of her panties. She lifted her hips to encourage him and he cupped her through the material, one finger sliding beneath the elastic and against her slick center.
His fingertip pressed alongside her clit, intensifying the ache in that tiny button of pleasure. She arched her back, hoping to slant his touch in the direction she needed. Instead, he drew lazy circles around the nub while circling a nipple with his tongue. A hurricane of sensation whirled through her, too much to demand more, but not enough for the release she craved.
Raindrops began to splatter against the windowpane and lightning flickered, briefly illuminating their illicit poses. Like flashbulbs going off, pictures cemented themselves in her mind. The circle of his attentions tightened, as did her anticipation of what was to come.
Her heart thundered at the passionate storm brewing both inside and out. His pace quickened, fluttering almost as the sensations hammered through her body. Her legs began to quake, her breath coming out in quick pants. Her mind loosened its ties on reality.
A frenzied explosion of exquisite sensations sparked inside her body at the blinding, pulsing moment of release. She came with a soul-shattering intensity that burst with ecstasy and burned her to a cinder. She gasped at the uncontrollable shuddering spasms of her body.
Xavier climbed higher in the bed, taking her in his arms as the pleasure seeped deeper and deeper into her soul. She relaxed farther into the safety of his body, soaking up the energy radiating from him.
Chapter Four
Dawn spilled into the room, waking the shadows. At the first trace of light, Jaime opened her eyes and saw the stone-hewn wall of the hotel. As awareness stirred, she took note of more. Her lack of clothes, the heavy hand on her breast, warm breath on her neck, and she did not have to guess what was pressing against her backside.
Oh.
My.
God
.
She popped up from bed like a piece of toast and scurried across the hardwood floor into the tiny bathroom. Xavier only rolled over on his stomach, a sheet thankfully covering the lower half of him. Well, sort of covering. There was no hiding the delicious curve of his ass.
She gasped at her own thoughts and scooted deeper into the small en suite. Relieved at her getaway, she closed the door. The room had only the necessities and barely enough space to turn around, making it no place to hide from the mirror.
“Idiot,” she whispered to the satisfied face staring at her. The word echoed in her ears, so she turned on the shower to drown out the sound.
She never went to bed with a guy on the first date, and terming dinner last night as a date would be the broadest use of the word. And to make matters even worse, she’d fallen asleep after he’d pleasured her.
That made her slutty
and
selfish.
Not to mention the mess she’d made of the rest of the trip.
Stepping beneath the warm spray, she closed her eyes and let the water rain down on her, trying to wash away the guilt. She must have been crazy to let things go so far. The part of her that welcomed his attention last night urged her to go back through the door and into his bed to give as good as she got.
Another part wanted to sit him down at breakfast today and apologize, explain there would never be an encore performance, and could they please drive straight through so she didn’t have to deal with her embarrassment any longer than necessary.
“J’aime.
J’envie de toi.
”
Her body heated at the sound of the deep voice. She blinked open her eyes to see Xavier, a bristle of a beard shadowing his hard jaw.
He wanted her? After the way she’d surely disappointed him last night? Or did he think now it was her turn to return the favor? Heaviness throbbed between her thighs at the thought.
She focused her gaze on his sage-green eyes as he stepped closer, joining her in the tiny shower. There was no way to be in the space without touching. Everywhere.
“
Les femmes son si beaux après avoir fait l’amour
.” He leaned to kiss her cheek, his stubble scratching against her.
Women are so beautiful after they make love
. Of course, she was just another woman to him. This was a man accustomed to women with a genetic tendency to be insolently thin, who had armoires full of sheer lingerie and the ability to flutter from one affair to the next. Jaime had dimples on her ass, cotton panties, and when it came to affairs, she didn’t have that kind of self-esteem.
“I’m sure you’ve seen your share.” She tried to back away, running into the shower knob with her arm. She didn’t want to be part of his vacation story. She was a serial monogamist, and while it never worked out for her, it was a hard habit to break.
“J’aime, is something wrong?” His brow furrowed with concern, right before his eyes opened wide and he jumped back from the cold water spitting down at them.
Jaime followed, grabbing for the only towel and wrapping it around herself. “I hate this place. I don’t know who thinks it’s funny to freeze me out of my room, but freezing me out of the shower is too much.”
She stomped out of the bathroom, as much in anger as in the need to get some physical distance. Really, girls who could do the walk of shame were lucky. She was stuck with the man for at least three days, thirty if he kept up this pace.
Yellow ribbons of sunlight pooled on the floor like a vat of butterscotch, warming the wood beneath her feet in the small room where she’d left her things. Of course now the room was a lovely temperature.
Grabbing her bag, she started rifling through for something to wear. She’d planned to wear bikinis and sun dresses, taking off and adding layers as the temperatures changed since her car didn’t have air conditioning. She had her outfit from yesterday, two dresses, two bikinis, one pair of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt to see her through for the rest of the trip. If the weather was anything like yesterday, she’d roast if she covered up from neck to ankles.