“I find you very beautiful.”
Raine widened her eyes. Not exactly what she had expected. He was a porn star. He had fucked beautiful women nonstop. What the hell did he see in her?
“I want to kiss you,” he continued, moving his face closer to hers. His full lips curved into a grin. “And then I want to lick your pussy.”
Her wine glass tumbled from her grasp, splashing burgundy liquid over his shirt. She jerked her other hand out of his and glued it to her lips. “Oh my God,” she said through her fingers. “I’m so sorry!”
He chuckled, the soft rumble vibrating from his throat. “It’s okay. Sometimes I speak too frankly.” He lifted his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the coffee table.
Raine gasped, her heart pounding. His torso was beautifully formed—solid pecs, ripped abs, beautiful brick red nipples. And chest hair. Soft sprinkles of dark blond chest hair.
But Jacques Le Grand didn’t have chest hair! Raine ought to know. She had watched his scenes often enough. A glow of relief surged through her. Blaise wasn’t Jacques Le Grand! How could she have thought it? Blaise’s hair was much longer and thicker, and he was more muscular and much more handsome. On impulse, she lunged toward him and plastered her mouth to his.
* * *
Blaise’s body tightened. Her lips were as delicious as he thought they’d be. He’d wanted to kiss her since she first fell onto him in the elevator, her lush dark hair cascading down his chest and arms. He’d impetuously decided to bring her here, to his place. It wasn’t far from the Eiffel Tower and for some reason unknown to him, he’d wanted to care for her.
She kissed him like a sédutrice, opening her mouth and swirling her tongue around his. She nipped his lips with a hunger that was both innocent and passionate. The fire she ignited in him traveled straight to his groin, reminding him how long he’d gone without a woman. Nearly two years now.
Not that he hadn’t had the chance. He was a model. Women constantly came on to him. But he hadn’t been interested. Until now.
Lorraine was older than he, more mature, but he didn’t care. He wanted her. She was beautiful, yes. And cute. So adorable to be afraid of heights. But he’d known his share of stunning women. What was it about her?
Sighing into her welcoming mouth, he deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers. Enjoying the soft moans from her throat. She tasted like the Beaujolais, with a touch of honeyed sweetness. He groaned. His cock throbbed inside his jeans, aching for release.
But no. He wanted to go slowly. To savor her. Summoning all his willpower, he broke the kiss, trailing his lips over her cheek to her ear. He pressed a moist kiss to the silky skin below her lobe.
“You’re so beautiful, chérie. So hot.”
“Mmm.” Her voice had lowered, and her breath feathered against his cheek.
“I knew it would be paradise to kiss you.” He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “You are delicious.”
She sighed. “You are, too.”
“I meant what I said.” His body shuddered at her nearness. “I want to kiss you. Lick you.”
“Mmm. Okay.”
“I want to fuck you, chérie. Until you cannot walk.”
Her body stiffened against his. He pulled away—it was torture—and touched her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes were orbs of bronze, with the longest black lashes he had ever seen. He could gaze into them forever. “Chérie?”
“I’m sorry. You just…speak very bluntly.”
“Bluntly?” Blaise didn’t know the word. Two years in L.A. and he still stumbled sometimes.
“You know. Like you said before. Frankly.” “Ah, yes. I suppose I do.” He continued to caress her cheek. It was soft as suede under his calloused thumb. “When it is something I want, I do not hold back.”
“But…why do you want me?”
He smiled. “Why would I not?” He sifted the fingers of his other hand through her long, dark hair, letting its satiny texture stroke his skin.
“H-How old are you anyway?”
Her voice shook. Just a little, but he noticed it.
“I am twenty-nine.”