Lost In France (Firebird Trilogy) (18 page)

It was our last night together before facing Alain’s father. Because it was Sunday, Alain had given the kitchen staff the day off. He insisted that he wanted to cook for me. It was only five in the afternoon, but he said he had to start early so we could eat at a decent time.

Barefoot, wearing an apron over his jeans and a tight baby-blue T-shirt that matched his eyes, Alain looked panty-melting hot as he chopped vegetables, his hair falling over his brow as he concentrated. He looked up at me with a dazzling smile, jolting my heart and my memory. The last time he wore an apron at the villa, he was wearing nothing underneath.

Rounding the counter, I stood behind him with my arms around his narrow waist, my cheek on his back, just soaking him up. He laughed softly, obviously enjoying the attention. I didn’t want him cutting himself, so I didn’t do the naughty things to him that ran through my mind.

Hmm, I wonder if he is hard?

Placing the knife on the cutting board, he took my hands in his, guiding them toward his steely hardness. 

“How am I going to cook you a delicious dinner like this?” he laughed.

“Down boy, down,” I joked, as I removed my hands and sat down at the end of the counter, taking a gulp of wine to settle myself.

He peered at me from under his lashes, taking a sip of wine as he studied me. From the way he was staring, I wanted to rip his clothes off and have my way with him.

“What are you cooking? It smells delicious.” I peeked into the red Le
Creuset pot on the stove to distract myself.

“
Boeuf à la Bourguignonne
,” he answered, “with lots of red wine and garlic.”

“And
champignons
?” I asked, showing off the little French I knew.

He laughs
good humoredly, “Yes, and lots of mushrooms, but they are added last.”

Swirling my wineglass, I watched as he confidently stirred the pot, tasting his concoction with a wooden spoon. Then he walked over to me, holding the spoon for me to taste.

“Hmm, delicious…when will it be ready?”

“Only in a few hours, Cherie, it has to cook very slowly, to develop the flavors.”

“Oh…and what will we do in those hours while we wait, I wonder?” Deliberately licking my lips, I tried to be as sensuous as I could be, even though I was feeling a bit silly.

“I know what you are doing, Cherie. And, it’s working.” He leaned in to kiss me. “You are insatiable,” he teased, “just the way I like you.”

Pivoting on his heels, he strolled back to his pot.
Damn.
 

A candle still wrapped in cellophane sat on the counter.

“Mind if I light the candle?”

Alain looked up and
smiled, quirking an eyebrow. I sensed there was something special about this candle.

“Sure. I bought it for later tonight. It’s a special candle.”

“Special?
How?
” It looked like any other candle to me.

“It’s made of soy wax. It’s all natural.”

“And?” I coaxed. The way he grinned meant there was more to it than the obvious.

“I’ll show you later.
After cooking.” He wiped the sweat on his brow with his forearm. “But light it now, Cherie. Its slow burning, it lasts a long time.”

I loved opening new things, so I eagerly removed the wrapper. The aroma of sweet mandarins filled the air as I lit the candle. That had to be what was so special about it, all natural and deliciously fragrant.

Slow tempo French music played in the background, and the sensuous melody gave me an idea. I turned the volume up and started swaying my hips slowly to the rhythm. Checking for his reaction, I was pleased to see his eyes widened as he grinned at me.

But, no.
Back to chopping the herbs, wiping the hair from his eyes. Then, back to his pot, adding the herbs, stirring again.

Try harder, Rebecca
.

Taking another swig of wine for courage, I went back to swaying my hips as I slowly unbuttoned my blouse in time to the music, humming the tune to get his attention. Jerking his head up, he watched me, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t budge.

Shit, am I doing this right or am I making a fool of myself?

The last button.

Now what?

I started this seduction, and I was determined to carry it to the end. I pushed the blouse off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Reaching for the zipper of my skirt, I slid it slowly down my hips, then my legs as I kept swaying to the music.

He swallowed hard.

Ah,
gottcha.

Pretending I wasn’t aware he was watching me, I stepped out of the skirt, only clad in
underwear and heels. Slowly, I reached for the back of my bra and undid the clasp, letting it slip off my breasts, before discarding it with the other clothing. He’d stopped stirring his pot; he was staring at me, his mouth open. 

Running my hands over ribs and then my breasts, caressing myself, I was going for the kill. Alain had taught me to be comfortable with my body, so I closed my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach while embracing my sensuality. 

Alain hissed loudly as I rubbed my nipples with my fingers, all the time swaying my hips seductively in a grinding motion. I swallowed hard.

Oh dear Lord, I hope I don’t look fucking ridiculous.

He let out a groan so primal and raw, my eyes snapped open. His lips curved into a delicious smile as he stood with his hand on his cock, adjusting himself in his pants.

My breath caught in my throat.

It’s working.

Running my fingers over the edge of my
panty, I slowly, teasingly slipped my hand under the fabric. My mouth was dry, so I stuck my tongue out to moisten my lips. His eyes were locked onto mine, he didn’t even blink. My hand slipped lower, touching my clit, I let out a soft moan.

Alain gasped, riveted as he watched, his eyes dark with lust. He ran a hand through his hair, his lips twisted into a smile.

I pushed the panty down, one inch at a time, until it was around my ankles. I turned my ass to him, bending over, still in my heels, as I removed the lacy scrap of fabric. Alain cursed. I giggled, peering at him through my splayed legs, licking my lips slowly, my hands on my ass cheeks.

He let out another expletive and with a few strides he stood in front of me.

“Vixen. You win.” He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the fireplace, laying me gently on the carpet. With a satisfied smile, I watched as he ripped his clothing off as if it was on fire.

He turned back to the kitchen.

No. Was he leaving me here like this?

I admired his ass and giggled at his erection standing so proudly, but I wanted him back here.

He turned the gas stove low and brought the candle with him, a wicked grin twisting his lips as he blew the flame out.

“You wanted to know. I will show you.”

He lay beside me, the candle still in his hand. I watched as he tipped molten wax into his palm and rubbed his hands together. My eyes widened as he sat back on his heels and stroked the length of his cock while looking at me, never even flinching.

“God, it’
s hot,” I breathed, watching him. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable with his body. It was sexy as hell. He chuckled as I licked my lips.

“Your turn.”

He tipped liquid wax into my palm. I was surprised that it didn’t burn. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so.

“It feels so good,” I said as I rubbed my palms together just as he had shown me.

His eyes glistened as he rasped, “It’s edible too, ma Cherie.”

My breath hitched as I rubbed my palms together and placed my hands on his chest. The warm wax glided over his smooth skin, the perfect lubricant as I massaged his chest, then his abs. Lower down, I massaged the v of his loins till I cupped his balls with one hand and stroked his shaft with the other. I leaned down to tease his tip with my tongue. The taste of him mixed with mandarin was intoxicating.

A groan rumbled from deep within his chest. He removed my hands from his body and pushed me down on the carpet.
My turn for a massage. Holding the candle at an angle, he dripped the warm liquid onto my stomach and up to my breasts. It felt warm and soothing, luxuriously sensuous as he massaged the oily wax into my skin.

I wanted those slender hands all over my body.

Mission accomplished.

Pacing my bedroom, a tight knot had formed in my stomach. This afternoon Alain’s father was returning to the chateau.

I needed to impress the man, so I chose my outfit with extra care. I wanted to look elegant and sophisticated—as if I fitted into the world of the aristocracy. Needing to ask Alain a few questions, I made my way downstairs for breakfast.

Following the sound of voices drifting from his study, I wondered who he was talking to so early in the morning. Surely I was imagining that the female voice sounded familiar. Although I couldn’t understand what she was saying, there was no mistaking the pleading in her voice. Alain was clearly angry; I could hear his voice distinctly.

Unsure about what to do, I froze in the hallway. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but I was intrigued as hell to know what was going on.

Should I go back upstairs and wait till he comes looking for me?

Just as I was about to turn around, I heard my name. In between rapid-fire French, my name was being thrown about a lot, both their voices raised.

What the hell is going on?

My curiosity got the better of me. I padded closer until I found myself standing in the doorway of Alain’s office. Feeling the blood drain from my face as I went cold, I leaned against the doorjamb for support.

Alain was leaning against his desk, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, holding Adrienne by her wrists which were behind her back. She lunged at him, a wild look in her eyes. My mouth went dry as I gaped.

Adrienne was completely
naked.

Alain saw me first, distress written all over his face. Adrienne followed his eyes and turned to me.

“He’s mine, whore. I thought you’d packed your bags and left already,” she spat. She pressed her naked body into Alain, and as if to make her point, reached up and kissed him on the lips.

What the fuck is happening?

I couldn’t watch any more. I turned and ran upstairs to my room, trembling.

What did I just walk in on? Clearly there
is something between her and Alain. Unfinished business? Is he fucking her while courting me?

Goddamn
Fool.

Motherfucker.

He must be laughing at my naivety. How could I believe France’s most eligible bachelor would really be interested in a relationship with me? Adrienne had warned me that she was the chosen one. Had Alain been stringing me along all this time?

Sobbing, my whole body heaved. I felt sick to my stomach.

Where had Alain been the other night? Did he go to
her
?

I grabbed my bag and threw my clothes into it.

I have to get out of here.

This minute.
What a complete idiot I’d been to believe he cared about me. Oh God, what had I gotten myself into?

Panic rose in my chest.

How will I get back to Paris?

I looked up to see Alain standing in the doorway. Drained of color, his skin was pale. He took a few steps forward. “Cherie —”

I cut him short. “Don’t call me that.”

Both his hands were in his hair, a look of despair crossed his eyes.

“Rebecca, it’s not what you think…”

“Really?
You want me to believe a naked woman in your arms is
nothing
? Screw that.”

“It’s not like that
— ”

“What is it then, Alain? Are the two of you laughing at the stupid foreign girl? Is Adrienne the one you are going to marry? The one your father approves of? Or is it just her rich daddy’s money you want?”

I laughed, bitter and hysterical. It didn’t sound good, even to my own ears. 

If at all possible Alain had turned even whiter, his olive skin as pale as a ghost’s.

Did I hit a nerve?

“Adrienne means nothing. You—”

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I’d seen enough. Wild with anger, I kept on ranting. “And, where were you the other night? In her bed—
fucking her
?” My voice was so high pitched, I hardly recognized myself.

“Rebecca, what you must think of me…” His hand was running through his hair. A vein ticked in his
neck.

“Fuck you and fuck Adrienne. Oh wait. You already are.”
My palms were sweaty as I clenched my fists. I could just hit something.

“
Adrienne is a mistake.”

“
Mistake?
Fuck yeah. The biggest mistake of your fucking miserable life.”

He took a step toward me, reaching out to me.

“Don’t you dare touch me. I want to go back to Paris. Now!”

“Rebecca…”

“
Now
, Alain, what part of that don’t you understand?”

I lifted my bag and ran down the
stairs.

“Oh.
And Adrienne? She can have you.
Because I don’t want you.
”