“I’ll admit, I was concerned. She’s incredibly selfish. My parents raised her that way. They expected nothing from her so she gave them nothing. She didn’t seem to care whether or not my parents had enough to eat as long as she got her beauty products and new clothes. If I tried to talk to her, she would pretend to get hysterical and go running to Papa. She was very manipulative and could turn on the waterworks at will.”
Elie leaned over the water to brush a kiss onto the top of her head. “I know you don’t like talking about your family, but I wanted to know why you were working so much when you were so young. I couldn’t help but notice this beautiful young girl every time I would go into the café with my friends. I began frequenting that particular café, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you even though I knew better. It was wrong of me when I was so much older, especially when I began to compromise your shadow.”
“You really did notice me?” Brielle’s stomach seemed to drop right out of her body. He had never once let on. He’d come in often and not one single time had she ever caught him looking her way.
“How could I not notice you? I made it my business to find out who you were, which was what called you to Jean-Claude’s attention in the first place. You were the only shadow rider I’d shown any interest in. He probably was jumping up and down for joy thinking he finally had me cornered. That was one of the reasons I was so furious. The council interfered in every aspect of my life. At the time, I believed they had taken me from my parents, not that my parents had given me up voluntarily. I should have known. You were special. Mine alone. No one was supposed to know about you. I felt like I hadn’t protected you from them and they were the enemy.”
He got up and paced away from the bathtub. The master bath was very spacious, and with only the candlelight illuminating the room, it was difficult to follow his progress. The candles were in tall pedestal holders about three feet high, positioned at either end of the tub, so the flickering light didn’t quite reach all the corners of the room.
Brielle sat up straight, catching the pillow and replacing it in the tray extending from one side to the other of the tub. She watched him, frowning a little. “What do you mean, your parents gave you up voluntarily?”
“As you know, riders are sent to other families to train as they get older. Archambaults are sent away immediately if they show great promise and if their parents agree. My parents agreed. They wanted to be alone together. I didn’t go back for holidays or any other time. They visited me occasionally, but rarely for more than a few hours or a day. I blamed that entirely on the council, not them. It was only after my father died and I tried to establish a relationship with my mother that I realized she wanted nothing to do with me.”
He turned back to her, a humorless smile on his face. It didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “So, you see, Brielle, I’m used to not being wanted. You deciding to call off our arrangement when you found out who you were tying yourself to wasn’t as shocking as you might have thought it was. I don’t blame you for it and you don’t have to be afraid of retribution. I don’t expect love from you, but I do demand respect and for you to keep your word.”
How could his parents not want him? At least her parents had the excuse of a first child they wanted with all their hearts. They had no interest in a second one. But Elie was talented, intelligent, gorgeous and everything any parent could be proud of. It made no sense that his parents wouldn’t want him.
“You weren’t the reason I wanted out of the arrangement, Elie,” she admitted. “How do I let the water out of this bathtub? I’m so exhausted and the water’s getting cold.”
His gaze drifted over her face a little moodily and then he came right to the edge of the tub again, leaning down to open the drain before helping her to stand. “Was it for some other reason than the bullshit lying Fayette did about me?”
She should have let well enough alone and not let compassion for him rule her good sense. She just didn’t make good decisions around him. Shivering, she made an attempt to step over the side of the tub. It was very high. Too high. Elie had to catch her around the waist and lift her over the edge. Immediately he sank down and pulled her between his thighs.
“Answer me.”
“I don’t want to answer you.” Brielle used her snippiest voice.
He began to dry her off with a warm towel. “That’s too bad, bébé, because now I’m very interested. Was there another reason?”
“As a matter of fact, there was another reason besides my lying sister. As if that wasn’t a good enough reason right there.”
“It wasn’t a good enough reason and you know it wasn’t because, eventually, you figured out she was lying.”
That was true. Sort of true. “I wasn’t sure what parts were true and what wasn’t. You frequented the clubs and there were all kinds of articles written up about you and then you said those things to Jean-Claude that seemed to reference kinky sex so I thought she could be semi-telling the truth.”
“You knew she lied,” he reiterated and stood up, once more towering over her.
Brielle sighed. “I want to go to bed and just stop talking for at least a year.”
To her shock, he laughed. “I’ll just bet you do. Finish getting ready and come to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Brielle woke up gasping for breath, her body desperate, needy, crying out for fulfillment. She’d had this erotic dream dozens of times, but not in such vivid, colorful detail. Her brain couldn’t quite distinguish between reality and fantasy. It seemed as though she was lying in bed with Elie’s naked body coiled tight around hers. He had one knee in between her thighs and his cock nestled between her butt cheeks. He moved—or she did—it had to be him because the rocking of the hips was gentle when she was frantic and his cock wasn’t hitting the spots she needed him to touch.
That was so like him. He always tormented her. Made her beg him for what she wanted most. She bucked against him, but that gentle rocking never changed rhythm. He was that in control. His arm was a weight around her, one hand cupping her breast. Her nipple was buried in his palm rather than between his fingers. There was no satisfying hard pinch. He wasn’t talking dirty to her. Why wasn’t he murmuring in her ear with that velvet, commanding voice?
Reality began to seep into erotica and she fought to calm her breathing and still her body, sending up silent prayers to the universe that she hadn’t been moaning or begging him aloud. As erotic dreams went—and she was used to them now—this one topped the others by a mile. She couldn’t quite slow her breathing, no matter how hard she tried. Having Elie’s hard body wrapped so tightly around hers didn’t help in the least.
She wanted to ease out from under him just to be able to give her body a little respite, but she knew if she did, Elie would wake up instantly. He’d be aware of her heightened sexual state and that would be one more humiliation to add to the long list she already had going. She lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling, counting her heartbeats, contemplating what she was going to do.
She was married to Elie freaking Archambault. The man of her fantasies. It was one thing to fantasize over a gorgeous man, so clearly experienced in everything she had tried to learn to be, but clearly was not. It was another thing to actually have Elie in her bed. Had he been a complete stranger, she was confident she could have handled anything demanded of her.
Brielle had researched everything she had been sexually drawn to very carefully. She was the queen of research. There were few who could match her on a computer. If she had a strong psychic instinct, it was following a trail on a computer. The moment her fingers touched a keyboard, she seemed to know which direction she needed to go and how to get there. She might be an emotional person, but she understood the logic of a computer.
She had learned where to go to get the physical experience, which turned out to be more like a scientific exploration until she realized all she had to do was add Elie Archambault into the fantasy of whatever scene she was exploring and she would manage to find excitement in it.
“Bébé, can’t you sleep?” Elie stirred, his voice a little husky with sleep. He didn’t remove his hand from her breast. Instead, his thumb brushed along the lower curve, instantly causing every nerve ending to flare back to total awareness when her body had just begun to settle down. The sound of his voice, that soft velvet mixing with the dark rasp of sleep, added to the intoxicating, addictive and all-too-enthralling sensations pouring over her in the darkness.