AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not that Luc didn’t have a sexy, handsome face. That said, she preferred to fantasize about a man who had more morals and a less womanizing lifestyle. Kira sighed. God.No wonder I never date.
When he’d shifted his face to the other side, his super soft sheet must have slid down a notch. Suddenly, her throat felt super dry, and coarse. The area between her legs, though, grew wet. Her clit throbbed, with the kind of rush and urgency she hadn’t experienced since—well, since watching the last Chris Hemsworth movie.
Kira licked her lips. She surged to her feet, then sat on the bed, touched his bare shoulder, and this time a frantic need shot up her arm. Nonsense. She rocked him, calling his name and earned few more incomprehensible groans from him.
Kira splayed both her hands on his back, and tapped it a couple of times. She wanted him awake, but not mad at her. If this didn’t work, she’d spray some water on his face. That had been her trick as a child, to train her dear cocker spaniel puppy to keep from peeing on the furniture. Sadness filled her chest. The training had been successful, but unfortunately Shelby had been allergic to pet dander, and they had to give up Kira’s dog after a few months. Kira had been heartbroken—she thought she’d never be this sad again until her sister stole her boyfriend too.
She added some pressure and called his name again. She found herself leaning on him and whispered in his ear, “I’m Kira. I’m here to—”
To her surprise, he flipped her on her back, and she gasped. Sandwiched between the mattress and his taut body, Kira pressed her hands on his chest to push him away. The moment she palmed his wide, muscly chest, her body betrayed her, and instead of pushing him, she didn’t move. The man was… a human tree. Strong, overpowering and hard. So very hard.
With his eyes still semi-closed, he whispered a couple of things in French into her ear. Crap. She imagined they were a lover’s promise, dirty things he’d do to her later. Her nipples hardened shamelessly at the thought, and a moan flew from her lips.
This was going a lot different than planned. A hard-on poked her belly. Hard-on? Maybe it was his leg. Certainly couldn’t be his…
He laughed next to her cheek, like he sensed her conundrum, and positioned himself exactly in between her legs, answering her silent question.
Sweat slicked her forehead. She should have worn the pencil skirt. Her loose one was one more unfortunate element linking her so closely to him. Dangerously close.
She took an intake of breath and caught a whiff of his manly cologne. Notes of bamboo, sandalwood and leather teased her senses, so delicious she was a minute away from passing out from a type-A grade arousal she never even knew existed.
“Luc…” she called him, wishing her voice had been more composed and less like those sex addicts from late-night TV shows.
A man screwed up her life once. That’d been enough. Why relive the nightmare? If she let Luc have his way with her, she’d have no upper hand in their professional relationship. Hell, there wouldn’t be a professional relationship to salvage. She’d most likely lose her job. Mr. Montague would fire her. The loan shark would run her and her two cousins out of town, possibly with broken legs—if not worse. Her attempt at big city life would be over. She’d be a failure. She’d have to return to Texas with her tail between her legs to face Shelby dating her ex. She’d been a failure as a daughter and girlfriend—and now as a woman.
She lifted her hand, and without delay, slapped his face and pushed him to the side.
Luc rubbed his eye, and this time, he was definitely awake. He propped himself on his elbows, and looked at her, blinking a couple of times like he adjusted his field of vision.
She took advantage of the opportunity and scooted out his bed. Once on her feet, she recomposed and smoothed her hand over her clothes. “Luc Beauford, I’m here to help you,” she said, determined to finish what she’d started.
* * *
Luc rubbed his forehead. His cheek tingled from her slap, and other parts of him throbbed for much different reasons.
When this woman woke him up, he’d imagined she’d been the saucy brunette from the previous night. He should have double-checked, but why else would she roll with him on the bed, her body so warm, her hands so willing? “Help?” he said in English. “Do you often crawl into men’s beds then slap them? Is that the extent of your ‘help’?” A thrill of excitement rolled into his gut. Most women he met went out of their way to seduce or impress him. This one… didn’t seem to care about either.
She shook her head, and the tips of her shoulder-length chestnut hair swayed. An itch to thrust his hand into her sultry mane burned the tips of his fingers. Luc withdrew and studied her face. She certainly could use some sun, but the stranger had a lot going for her besides silky hair. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes had enticed him. If only her kissable lips invited his instead of pouting at him.
“I didn’t crawl into your bed,” she said evenly. “I was trying to wake you up. I’ve met a bear or two who slept lighter than you.”
A bear? He caught himself smiling. “Did you slap them too?”
She fixed her glasses. “I didn’t need to, but frankly I would have if they had harassed me the way you just did.”
He snorted. “Harass? I was naked and you touched me. If anything, ma américaine, you harassed me. Took advantage of an innocent unconscious man to do as you wish,” he said, enunciating slowly the last words. Images of her body, naked in his bed and ready for him to do as he wanted unfurled in his mind.
A wave of red stained her cheeks, but she shook her head and lifted her chin. “If I wanted to take advantage of you, why would I have stopped?”
He shrugged, then tapped the empty area on the mattress next to him. “That, ma chérie, is a mistake that can be easily remedied.”
“Hard pass.” She lifted her hand in disagreement. “I’d rather take a bath with poisonous snakes. I’m here because your father hired me to help you transition into your new American lifestyle.”
Father. Luc snorted. Until a month prior, he had no idea about the identity of his biological father, let alone that it was the legendary Charles Montague. Why would he want anything to do with the man who left his mother alone with two small children and fled France to marry a rich American heiress?
That weekend he left, his poor mother had been so shaken, she forgot the gas stove was on, which led to an explosion claiming Marcel’s life. The death had been deemed an accident, but Luc never forgot the pain his father had caused. His mother had never been the same afterward. And he had become the head of a household at the tender age of six. By the time he reached ten, he’d become an expert at tucking his mother in bed, cooking her breakfast, and saving to buy himself a second pair of shoes to go to school—after much bullying from the other kids.
But, at last, he’d get his revenge. Montague had ripped his family from him, and Luc couldn’t wait for his chance to take from Charles the one thing that mattered—money, or in this case, a mammoth airplane merger. Charles had invited him to get to know his corporation and work for him in the technology department, and he’d use it to his advantage, gaining his trust and seeking the perfect opportunity to ruin the deal his father had wanted his whole life. “I already have a PA,” he said, remembering trustworthy Sabine who had worked with him for four years in his software engineering and technology development company. A multi-million-dollar business he’d left in the capable hands of his VP for a few months.
