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Her eyes took me in, trailing over my nakedness, slightly biting her bottom lip like she missed my heavy body on top of hers, missed my warm flesh, missed my big hands on her little body.
My hands gripped her hips, and I pulled her into me for a kiss, wanting her taste on my mouth, wanting her breath in my lungs, wanting her smell all over me.
But she pulled away. Her hands planted against my chest, and she pushed me back slightly, our lips close together but not touching.
I looked at her lips and then her eyes, knowing she had something to say to me, and I wished she’d spit it out quickly so I could have her after a long ten days without her. Ten fucking days.
She whispered to me in her beautiful, flowery voice, speaking in perfect French like she was fluent. “Mon homme m’a manqué. Emmène-moi au lit…”
I sucked in a deep breath between my clenched teeth. Flames rose up my veins and spread through my entire body. My hands gripped her waist deeply, squeezing her so hard that I was certain it hurt. When I let out the breath, all my muscles tightened, my dick hardened even more, and I released the first thought that came to mind. “Chérie, je t’aime.”
Hours later, I grabbed the tray outside my bedroom, and we ate together at my dining table. She sat across from me, wearing a shirt she’d helped herself to from my dresser, and it fit her like a loose dress. Her lobes held solid diamonds, and whenever she tucked her hair behind her ear, they glimmered. The tears and screams had ruined her perfectly applied makeup, the mascara in dots underneath her lashes, streaks from the corner of her eyes like rivers down her face. But I preferred to see her with ruined makeup—because that meant I’d done a good job.
The food was excellent as always, but I didn’t really enjoy it because I was too busy enjoying her appearance, appreciating the fact that she was really there with me. This wasn’t a hallucination that my mind had created in my cabin. I didn’t have to stare at the flames and see her face somewhere in between. This image of her was real.
Her eyes met mine. Sometimes they were down on her food, sometimes they looked out the window. She’d missed me while I was gone, and now that she had me back, she was nervous, intimidated by my presence. “How was your trip?”
“Fine.” I expected her to ask me about Raven’s well-being, but she was smart enough not to. “Gilbert teaching you?”
She nodded before she took a bite of her food.
“Your French is good.”
“That’s pretty much all I know how to say.”
It was the most beautiful line I’d ever heard spoken, like prose straight out of a classic French novel. It was the single most erotic moment of my life, coming home to my woman and listening to her say those words to me. “You said it beautifully.”
She gave a slight smile before she looked down into her soup.
“Gilbert been good to you?”
“He’s been wonderful. We’ve had our lunches together, sometimes dinner.”
“And he was pleasant to you?” When I’d realized Melanie’s assumption about Gilbert was correct, that he did hate her, it made me angry. To have my own staff disrespecting the woman I’d chosen was ludicrous. It was disrespectful to me—and no one disrespected me.
“Very.” She lifted her chin and studied my face, reading the anger in my eyes. “It’s water under the bridge, Fender.”
I’d never understood the expression because I didn’t believe in it. Water was never under the bridge with me. The only time it was was with Melanie—because it was impossible to hold a grudge against her.
“What did you do at the camp?” Anytime that place was mentioned, her voice trailed off, like she was hit by the memories of the cold, the drugs, her sister.
“Make an appearance.” I did my checks to make sure everyone was doing their job, but my presence was work enough. It taught everyone in my employ that I could show up at any moment, for any reason, and if anyone had their pants down, they’d die by my bare hands.
She finished her meal then set down her fork. “I asked Gilbert if we could go shopping together, but he said I’m not allowed to leave.” She silently asked for an explanation, her eyes shifting back and forth between mine.
I held her gaze, waiting for the rest of the sentence or a question.
“You think I’ll run away?” Hurt was in her voice, a slight change in her tone.
I studied that look for a long time, loving the fading light in her eyes, the way she needed my confidence to be happy. “No.”
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“I just don’t want you out and about when I’m not in the city. The safest place in the world for you is right beside me. When I’m not here, second best is this palace. If you want to go shopping tomorrow, you may. I just expect you to be home by the time I’m finished with work.”
