Elie caught her chin and turned her face toward him. “Tell me what you’re thinking and don’t lie to me.”
The last thing she wanted to do was admit to him anything she’d just been thinking but they both had sworn they’d be honest. She veiled her eyes with her long lashes, her heart beating too fast. She knew he could see her pulse beating hard in her neck. His fingers were at her neck now, feeling it, counting her heartbeats.
“I’d rather not if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. Tell me.”
That was a strict order. “It’s a little embarrassing and I know you aren’t going to like all of it. I can’t help the way I think, Elie.”
He was silent. Waiting. She squirmed on the bed, realizing just how vulnerable she felt, completely naked, legs wide open, lying sprawled out while he was still clothed. That only made the flames burn hotter in her core and spread through her body like a wildfire out of control.
“I liked the way you looked at the bottom of the bed when you were looking at me,” she admitted in a low tone. “You have a way of making me feel like I really am your toy that you enjoy playing with, but at the same time, I’m your woman, the one you cherish and protect.”
She hesitated, wanting to leave it there. She knew he could hear the truth in her voice. It was the truth, but . . . He remained silent as he stared down at her. His expression hadn’t changed when she snuck a peek at him. He hadn’t touched her. She sighed. It was uncanny how he knew there was more and he expected her to tell him.
“I remembered all the times you brought women into the café where I worked or the restaurant. They were always gorgeous models. Very famous women. They hung on your arm and stared up at you as if they were afraid to take their eyes off you. You treated them as if they were nothing most of the time but then you would suddenly smile at them or lean close and whisper to them and they would light up as if you had said they mattered to you. I knew you hadn’t. I knew they didn’t matter. I knew you would grow bored with them and drop them within a matter of weeks or even days. I felt sorry for them.”
She hoped—sent up little prayers to the universe—that he wouldn’t insist on any other revelations. She’d gone far enough.
Again, Elie stayed silent, but this time, his palm smoothed down her throat to the valley between her breasts and then to her belly. She tried not to suck in her breath in order to have a firmer stomach, but it was difficult when he had such a firm body and she still had that offending soft pooch she couldn’t quite get rid of no matter how many crunches she did. His palm continued to glide lower over her mound, trailing the patch of blond curls until his fingers settled in her slick heat.
“You’re very brave for telling me when you didn’t want to. Finish, bébé.” He whispered the command like temptation.
Those wicked fingers circled her clit, a whisper of a touch, a reward for her bravery. She knew it was. She wanted to push against his fingers, lift her hips into his hand, but instinctively, she knew he would step away from her fast if she did.
A flush started and consumed her from head to toe. She wished she could control the spread of heat, but it was impossible. She hoped he would put it down to the way he touched her and not what she’d been thinking. It was so difficult to confess. So difficult.
For a brief moment, she pressed her lips together, holding back the truth from him. She knew she couldn’t look at him. Behind her eyes, tears burned too close. Swallowing the lump threatening to choke her, she forced the confession. “I couldn’t help but think it was your pattern. The way you made women feel special so easily, as if you cared for them on one hand and yet could so quickly abandon them because you didn’t really feel anything for them. They were really toys for you to play with. I had the thought that maybe you would abandon me, too, when you become bored with me.”
He’d made a promise to her. He’d signed a contract stating he wouldn’t cheat on her. He’d made that an absolute demand in his arrangement with her. During the ceremony, he had again made that same commitment before his chosen family, and then in Stefano’s office, he had reiterated that he had vowed not to cheat. Would he think she had insulted him because of her wayward thoughts?
Brielle couldn’t look at him. His hand moved up her body once again, sliding up her skin with surprising gentleness until he found the depression along her abdomen with the pads of his fingers. He explored, as if he were using Braille, getting to know her body by touch. Then he leaned down, his hair sweeping along her skin, the silky strands leaving flames crackling all over her. Then his mouth was there, gentle, like before, but when he kissed the scar, his lips felt scorching hot. His tongue slid along the white depression, a brand, claiming the spot for his own.
There was no way to stay still when that brand sank beneath her skin into her muscles and organs, into her bones. Her fingers curled into fists around the duvet as her hips bucked and a small needy moan escaped. Elie’s palm pressed into her stomach, fingers spread wide, holding her down, as he licked, kissed and nipped at that little wound. His teeth scraped back and forth, a rough caress, and then he bit down gently, which nearly sent her soaring. His tongue stroked, a rasp of velvet and soothing heat over the small sting.
Her legs shifted. She needed to rub them together to give herself some relief, but he smacked her inner thigh hard, his head coming up alertly, eyes blazing into hers. She subsided immediately.
Elie returned to his task, slowly using his mouth to kiss and nip his way until he found the deepest scar just under her left breast. He used the pad of his index finger to rub back and forth as if memorizing the shape and length of it. Then once more, he bent his head to administer a firestorm of kisses with his lips, tongue and teeth.
It was impossible to stay completely still, but she made every effort because she didn’t want him to stop. It didn’t matter if she had his attention now, and later, she might lose it. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.
That was her biggest fear. Her secret fear. She would fall in love with Elie Archambault. She had already been so obsessed with him over the years, and she knew, if she was with him, close like this, she would be completely wrapped up in him. Consumed by him. She was that kind of person. She surrendered everything she was. She’d told herself he wasn’t real, only a fantasy she’d made up when she was little more than a child, but that hadn’t stopped her. Now she was with him. Tied to him. Reality was better than any fantasy she’d dreamt up.
It was all she could do not to bury her fingers in his hair and hold him to her. Terror touched her mind. She hadn’t been with him five minutes and she was already certain she would lose him. That had been part of what she had avoided telling Stefano, but now it was out in the open. She hadn’t made the threat of losing him seem as certain as it was to her, or how shattering it would be to her, but at least she’d been honest.
Elie suddenly lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes. “Was this knife play done with your consent? I noticed you emphasized no knife play and with bondage you were smart enough to say you wanted time to work on trust.”
“I never, at any time, consented to knife play. I was adamant against it.” She tried to keep any inflection out of her voice. She still felt guilty, as if what had been done to her was her fault because she was the way she was. “Once he had cuffs on me, he used the knife.” Tears burned again and she tried not to think about the way it felt to have the blade go through her skin.
Elie gathered her to him, pulling her into his arms as he settled onto the side of the bed. She was shocked to find herself in his lap while he rocked her, one hand in her hair.
“Don’t think about the way it felt, mon petit ange. There is no need. But I do insist you give me his name.”
She pulled back to look at him. He was serious. Very serious if his expression was anything to go by. He looked every inch an Archambault.
“Elie, he doesn’t matter. He was a member of a club I went to. I wanted to experience a few things to see if I liked them or not. He was there quite a bit and seemed to have a good reputation. No one ever said a bad word about him. He’d asked me to be with him quite a few times and I’d turned him down. I was a little afraid of him.”
“Why?”