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He grabbed her shoulders. Still naked, she felt exposed, on display, as his eyes pierced hers.
“I don’t know what is crock. I never lied to you. You do have the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen.” His gaze traveled downward. “They are plump. And firm.” He released one shoulder and cupped a breast. “And your nipples are the color of fine red wine.”
Raine looked away, but he whipped his hand up from her shoulder to her neck, forcing her gaze back to his.
“What I see in L.A. was all fake. Plastic. You are real, Lorraine. I did not lie to you.”
Raine choked back a tear. “Hairless pussies.”
“Which is also not real, chérie.”
“But I’m…” The link between man and the ape.
“Real. You’re real, Lorraine. And so very beautiful to me.”
Raine sniffed and attempted to look away. “There’s nothing real about any of this.”
Still holding her neck, he lowered his head. “Tell me, chérie”—his breath caressed her lips—“is this real?”
He claimed her lips in a kiss so fierce and urgent, her legs buckled under her. He snaked one arm around her waist and steadied her as he plundered her mouth. His kiss was angry and demanding. He punished her with his heat, his desire. He pushed his denim-clad erection into her stomach as he crushed his body to hers.
Raine couldn’t turn away. The velvety warmth of his mouth was too delicious to resist. The eagerness with which she responded to the tempestuous thrusts of his tongue shocked her.
Had he kissed porn women like this? Like he couldn’t get enough? Or was this kiss for her? For regular old Lorraine Frye?
Little moans escaped her throat as he finally eased back, his tongue exploring instead of punishing, his teeth nibbling instead of biting. She returned his kiss, tracing his full lips with her tongue, catching his bottom lip between her teeth.
He groaned. “Je t’adore, ma belle Raine,” he said against her mouth.
She sighed. Was she really ready to give him up? The best sex she’d ever had? He claimed he wasn’t Jacques le Grand. Should she let him explain?
“That’s the first time you’ve called me Raine.”
“It is what you like.”
“Yes. But you can call me Lorraine if you want to.”
“I like Raine. It sounds like reine, which means queen.”
“It only sounds that way when you say it.” Raine let out a nervous chuckle, backed away from him, and sat down on the bed. “Blaise?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you do it?”
He sighed and sat down next to her, taking her hand in his. “My brother Gaston and I went to L.A. We needed money. We met a producer of adult films who said we could make a lot of money being twins.”
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sp; “You’re a twin?”
“Yes.” Blaise reached in his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. “Here.” He handed her a photo of two identical little boys with blond hair and blue eyes.
Raine gasped. “My God, what beautiful children you were.”
He smiled and replaced the photo in his wallet. “Gaston and I signed a contract for ten films. After I shot my first scene with a young woman, I walked out on the contract. Doing it did not feel right. Gaston and I had a quarrel. He wanted fame and money, but the contract was for both of us. So I got a job waiting tables to earn money to buy back the contract, and Gaston continued making films. He became Jacques le Grand. After I made enough money to repay my half of the contract and buy a ticket to Paris, I came home.”
“I’m sorry.” Raine fingered a strand of his silky hair. “Would you change it if you could?”
