Frenched Series Bundle (54 page)

Wrapped in Lucas’s arms on the dance floor, I inhaled deeply and held the fragrant air inside my lungs. I wanted everything about this moment committed to memory—the light, lovely sweetness carried on the breeze from the lavender fields; the clusters of tiny diamond stars against the darkening sky; the soft glow of votive candles on each table top and lining the gravel paths surrounding the villa; the jubilant fizz of champagne on my tongue. In my ears, the hum of conversation mixed with the lazy rhythm of the vintage jazz ballad being played by musicians on the patio. Earlier, Lucas had been coaxed into joining them for a couple songs, one of which was La Vie En Rose, which had special meaning for us.

Despite the heat of the evening, my arms and back had tingled with goose bumps while he played, and every time he looked up from the strings and made eye contact with me, my stomach fluttered madly.

It did so again now as he pulled me in closer, close enough for me to feel the slight scruff on his jaw against my cheek. Exhaling, I closed my eyes and shivered. Could this be real?

“Cold, love?” Lucas squeezed me tighter.

“No. Just happy.” I opened my eyes just in time to see Coco and Nick abandon their seats at a table near the dance floor and slip into the moonlit shadows of the olive grove. Envy wrenched my insides. “But I’ll be even happier when we can escape this crowd.”

He laughed. “You, who obsessed and panicked and planned this wedding to within an inch of its life, want to leave early? What if something strays from the itinerary? What if someone goes off script?”

“Very funny.” I slapped at his shoulder. “But I do kind of want to leave. Not because it isn’t exactly what I wanted, but because I want to be alone with you. I really missed you last night. I know, I know,” I went on quickly, grinning at him sheepishly before he could tease me. “It was me who insisted we sleep apart the night before our wedding. And I had a wonderful night giggling and reminiscing and staying up way too late with Coco and Erin. But I still missed you.”

Lucas kissed my nose and then my lips. “I missed you, too.” He smiled, a mischievous spark in his dark eyes. “Mia Fournier.”

Giddiness ballooned in me so quickly I rose up on tiptoe. “I love the sound of that.” Our lips met again, a soft, lingering kiss, intoxicating in its sweetness. But deep inside me, something stirred and tightened.

I’d had enough sweet.

And judging from the erection swelling against my hip, he felt the same.

“Lucas,” I whispered, rubbing my lips back and forth over his. “Do you think we could—“

“Let’s go.” Without waiting for the rest of my question, without even a word to any of our guests, he took my hand and led me across the back of the house and inside the kitchen door. As we moved through it, Lucas lifted a hand in greeting to the caterers and tossed off something in French that made them laugh and nod knowingly. Blushing, I attempted to smile too, but I had a feeling Lucas had not bothered to hide our motive for escaping the crowd and sneaking in the back door. My heart raced in anticipation, and I gleefully recalled the barely-there French lingerie I had on beneath my wedding dress.

Ducking through an archway at the far end of the large, busy room, Lucas opened a door and gently pushed me into a narrow service stairwell. He unbuttoned his coat, making my core muscles clench, before pulling the door shut behind him.

In the sudden blackness, every sound was amplified—the bang of my heart against my ribs, the heavy breaths escaping my lips, the slow, dull thud of Lucas’s heels against the stone floor as he came toward me.

“What did you say to them?” I whispered as he backed me toward the stairs, hands stealing to my waist. When my heel hit the first step, he lifted me up on it and then dropped down in front of me.

“I told them,” he began, his accent edging beneath his words, the way it always did when he was turned on, “that I wanted a few minutes alone with the bride.” He slipped his hands beneath the frothy hem of my dress and as he stood, he slid them up the sides of my legs from ankle to thigh, lifting the heavy layers of tulle and silk in his arms. He pressed his lips between my breasts, in the deep V of my gown’s neckline. “But I told them not to tell her husband.”

A silly laugh escaped me as Lucas’s breath tickled my chest. My nipples tingled and tightened, and I arched my back slightly. “Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret.”

“Good.” His voice was low and raw. “Because I can’t keep my hands off you one minute longer.” He slipped one hand between my thighs, which were sticky with heat and desire. “I’ve been watching you all night, dying to touch you here.” He slid the side of his index finger back and forth along the tiny swath of lace between my legs. My mouth fell open, and I pressed the palms of my hands against the cool stone walls on either side of me. “Wider, princess,” he whispered, nudging my inner thighs apart with the back of his hand.

I did what he said, stepping out with one high-heeled sandal, moaning lightly as his thumb grazed my clit through the lace. “That’s it. I like hearing you, but not too loud. We don’t want to get caught in here, Mrs. Fournier. What would your guests think?” His fingers worked the lace aside and slid inside me, slow and smooth. “What would they say to a woman just married who let herself be handled this way by a stranger?”

“I don’t know,” I whimpered in response, my knees trembling as much as my voice. The game turned me on as much as the intimate touch. Lucas was so good at this—at surprising me just when I thought sex with him couldn’t get any hotter.

He crooked his finger, making a come-hither motion, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “What would they think if they could see you like this, your pussy wet and dripping on my hand? If they knew how hard you made me? If they could hear you sighing, see your body begging to be fucked right here on the stairs in your wedding dress?”

“Yes. Please.” I licked my lips, relishing the way his words had tension coiling inside me like a rope. “I want you to. I won’t tell.”

“You want me to what, Mrs. Fournier?” He plunged his fingers deep, then drew them out to rub the silky liquid desire over my clit. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I whispered breathlessly, rocking my hips over his hand. “Right here on the stairs. In my wedding dress.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yes.” I took one hand off the wall and reached between his legs, running my palm up and down his solid erection through his trousers. My lips brushed his ear. “I want you inside me.”

His body swayed forward at my touch, and I undid the button and zipper on his pants. Wrapping my fingers around his hot, hard cock, I pumped my hand up and down only a few times before he groaned with impatient pleasure. “Hold your dress.” I took the bottom of the gown in my arms and he dropped down, pulling my lace panties to my ankles. When he stood, I kicked them off one foot. “That’s it. Now spread your legs.” Reaching beneath my dress, he positioned himself at my center and slowly pushed inside. Then he hooked his hands around the backs of my thighs, hitching my legs around his waist as I clutched his shoulders, my dress trapped between us.

“Yes,” I whispered as he moved my body up and down his cock, my fingers digging into the thick fabric of his suit coat. Back at home, I’d watched him lay out the suit on our bed for packing, and I’d been unable to resist brushing my palm across the dark blue summer-weight wool, my insides jumping when I realized the next time I touched it, I’d be his wife.

His wife.

The thought of it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through me. My eyes had adjusted to the dark just enough to make out his features, and I held his gaze as he buried himself deep within me, his breath warm on my lips. When he let me glide all the way down, I moaned at the luscious fullness, at the way our bodies fit together so exquisitely. He turned, bracing my upper back against the wall.

“Fuck,” he murmured, slowly pulling out and sliding in again. “Your husband is a lucky man.”

I laughed, low and sultry, savoring the little zing I felt every time the base of his cock reached my clit. “Right now I feel pretty lucky myself.”

He squeezed my ass in his hands, his fingers kneading my flesh as he held me tight to his body, grinding against me. “He better be good to you.”

“He is,” I whimpered, the hum at my center growing hotter and stronger. My blood rushed in molten streams through my veins, and my skin prickled with heat. “Oh God, he is…
so
good to me…”

“Does he fuck you like this? Does he make you come? Tell me.” Lucas demanded in a hot, gravelly whisper, his cock driving deep with quick, steady strokes. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” I cried, forgetting to be quiet, as the buzzing heat between my legs had my stomach and leg muscles clenching tight. “Fuck yes, he does. He makes me come so hard…oh God, Lucas, don’t stop, don’t stop…” My words fell off as the blackness of the stairwell exploded with the light of a thousand stars, so bright I slammed my eyes shut against its brilliance. My head knocked back against the hard stone. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Through the pulsing wetness, Lucas thrust harder and faster, his breath escaping his lungs in ragged bursts between clenched teeth. Finally, his body stiffened and stilled, the only movement between us the surging throb of his climax deep inside me. I gripped him hard with my legs, holding him tight to my body. Forever, I thought blissfully, deliriously. He was mine and I was his and this feeling was ours forever. It was the most unbelievable euphoria I’d ever experienced, enough to bring tears to my eyes.

When the spasms ceased, Lucas tipped his forehead to mine, breathing hard. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I slid one hand inside his coat and beneath my palm, I felt the thunder of his heart and smiled.
I hope we always do this to each other.

“And I take back every negative thing I ever said about getting married. Because this married life thing is fucking amazing.”

I laughed. “We’ve only been married for a couple hours, Lucas.”

“I don’t care.” He pressed his lips to mine. “Do we have to go back to our wedding?”

“Yes. But,” I continued when he groaned, “I’d say after another hour or so, we can probably make our final exit.”

“Another hour or so until I can get you out of this dress?” He shook his head. “Sorry. I won’t make it.”

I laughed again, giving him a squeeze with my core muscles that made him moan. “You’ll make it. And then we’ll lock ourselves in for the rest of the night. Promise.”

He grunted in response.

“Come on, you’re French. You’re supposed to have more patience than me.”

“I’m only half-French. I’m also half-impatient-American, and right now that half is winning.”

“It will be worth the wait,” I whispered. “I bought something special to wear.”

“Oh, Jesus. Is that supposed to help me right now?” Sighing heavily, he picked up his head. “But I suppose I can try.” He brushed his lips across my cheek. “And you’re always worth the wait, love. In anything and nothing.”

My heart swelled as Lucas set me back on my feet, gently helping me adjust my dress before doing up his pants. “You probably need a bathroom, huh?”

Warmth was trickling down the inside of my leg. “Um, yes. Can I sneak upstairs?”

“Of course. But,” he went on, bending down and scooping up my little lace panties from the floor. “I’m keeping these in my pocket. And if you try to make me stay longer than an hour, I’m going to pull them out and sniff them in front of everyone.”

I gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” He opened the door and light slanted into the stairwell, making me squint as I watched him shove my underwear in his inside coat pocket. Giving me that knowing half-grin that set my heart beating faster two years ago, he said, “Come on, now, Madame Fournier. Clock’s ticking.”

Madame Fournier.

I was
Madame Fournier
.

How crazy was that?