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The anger dropped a bit, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
Even in her anger, she was beautiful. Breathtaking. I moved in, watching her step back, and positioned her ass against the bed.
Her hands went to the bed behind her, and she looked up at me with guarded eyes.
I grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the bed.
She smacked my hand away.
My eyes narrowed, and I grabbed her hips and tugged her down, getting her to lie down so I could get her thong off.
She kicked me.
“You want me to stop? Tell me.” I pushed my boxers down and let my hard cock come free.
She continued that vicious stare, but she didn’t say a word. She wanted me—she just wished she didn’t.
I positioned her hips at the edge of the bed before my hips moved between her thighs.
She slapped me again.
My hands reached for hers and pinned them above her head. “Tell me.”
There was only that furious stare.
One hand kept her wrists together, and I directed myself inside her, sheathed in her typical wetness. “Fuck, chérie…” I kept her wrists in place because I liked it, and I fucked her at the edge of the bed, moving into her hard and fast, desperate for her the second she’d slapped me across the face.
She didn’t rock with me, but she moaned against her will.
My eyes burned into hers as I pounded into her slickness, feeling her tighten around me only to purposely distance herself, like she wanted to resist me as much as she could. She didn’t want to give me that satisfaction. But I already took all the satisfaction I needed. This wasn’t a game to me because I wasn’t a man who played games. “Je t’aime, chérie.”
She immediately softened at my words. Her hips started to move. Her moans became louder. And she pulled her hands free from my hold and hooked her arms around my shoulders to bring me closer. “Je t’aime, mon amour…”
My hand reached for her beside me.
Nothing.
My eyes opened and saw the sunlight poking through the closed curtains. Bits of dust were in the air. The room was considerably warmer in the morning than it was at bedtime—even with our lovemaking.
My hand clenched the sheets, disappointed that she’d left me to wake up without her. She made sleep easy. Knowing she was beside me, that nothing could touch her unless it pierced my flesh all the way through first and hit her afterward, gave me a deeper level of peace.
I would never let anything happen to her.
Not again.
I got out of bed and pulled on my sweats.
The door leaned forward, only attached to the wall by a single hinge. Pieces of wood were kicked to the side so the entryway was clear. She wasn’t in the bathroom, so I went down the stairs and through the foyer.
“Morning, sir.” Gilbert greeted me, in his full tuxedo with his hands behind his back. “Is there—”
“Melanie.” I stared him down.
He was getting better at recovering from my harshness, so he gave a quick nod. “She’s having breakfast on the terrace. Would you like to join her?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and walked away.
“Gilbert?”
He turned back to me. “Yes, sir?”
“Fix my door.” I walked past him. “It’s broken.” I headed out through the French doors in the rear and found Melanie sitting under an open umbrella, an assortment of breakfast items on the table. Chocolate croissants. Pot of coffee. Vase of pink roses. Savory crepes. Bowl of fruit. More food than she could possibly eat. But that wasn’t the point.
When I came close, she drew her gaze away from the pool and the acres beyond and turned to me.
I pulled out my chair and sat across from her.
Her chin was on her closed fingers, and she watched me with guarded eyes, like her anger wasn’t gone despite all the fucking we’d done, all the whispers we’d shared, all the tears she’d shed. Her eyes dropped back to her coffee, and she brought it to her lips for a drink. She was in a sundress with her bathing suit underneath, sunscreen on her face instead of makeup. The bridge of her nose had a distinct whiteness to it, like that was where she’d slathered on the most lotion.
She was beautiful—like always.
I was content just to sit there and stare.
Our nights and mornings were the best parts of my day. Our nights were filled with a kind of passion I’d never had with another woman. Our mornings were only about need, taking what we wanted before we began our day. Quick. To the point. A good start. I appreciated them both in different ways. So, when I woke up without her, it turned my entire day upside down.
Gilbert appeared and served me the same crepes. Chicken with asparagus with a creamy sauce on top. A white mug was placed there so I could fill it with coffee. Everything else on the table was communal, so I could grab anything I wanted.
