Chapter 12
AFTERWARDS, HE DROPPED HIS head to her shoulder, while their breathing returned slowly to normal, and the room, for Skye stopped spinning, piece by piece, until she was something closer to herself again. Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she never would be, because until that moment, she hadn’t known sex could be like that. And in that brief, split second moment where she recognized she’d just been a part of something so mind-blowingly good, she wondered how the hell she’d ever walk away from it. Wouldn’t it be much nicer to have orgasms like this every day for the rest of her life, thank you very much?
And pigs might fly.
Matthieu de Garmeaux wasn’t offering to become her permanent sex slave, and besides which, his life was very firmly rooted here in France, and everything she wanted existed on the opposite side of the earth. If she was going to have a sex slave, she’d need to cast a wider net.
But her criteria had sure as hell changed.
He rolled onto his back beside her, so she pushed up onto her elbow and simply stared at him.
“Well, you sure look like a mortal male,” she pondered thoughtfully.
His eyes stayed riveted the ceiling above them for a long moment before sliding sideways. “Your point?”
She reached her palm out and pressed it to his chest. “That was a rather heavenly performance.”
He laughed, his voice hoarse and deep, a rumble that set her pulse going. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
She nodded. “I really did. I hope it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”
“Who’s the beginner in this scenario?”
“We are—together. In my experience, it takes time between a couple to get good. I mean, not that the guy ever really knows that, because men usually think they just have to…you know, and the woman…you know, but let me tell you, it can be a bit more complicated than that and you, well—,” she tapered off into nothing, lifting her slender shoulders. “You get what I’m saying, right?”
He pushed up onto his elbow to face her, and his hair-roughened chest brushed her nipples. “I suppose only time will tell.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “Is that your way of saying you want that to happen again?”
He laughed, tilting his head back, so she stared at him, drinking in the sight of this version of Matthieu de Garmeaux. What was it about this man?
“What do you think?”
“I mean, we had a deal,” she said, reminding him of their earlier terms.
“Do you want us to revert to our original arrangement?”
She shook her head wordlessly, her eyes wide in her face.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered. But Skye wasn’t beautiful.
“Yeah, sure,” she said with a smile that made it seem as though it were all a big joke. “Haven’t you been online today? There’s about ten thousand people who’d disagree with you.”
“That’s just what people do on the internet.”
She kept the same light-hearted tone to her voice. “It’s okay, Matthieu. I’m not sensitive about it. If you could see my mother and stepsisters, you’d know that I’ve grown up in the shadow of truly beautiful women all my life. You don’t need to…flatter me. I’m comfy in my own skin.”
He stared at her for several seconds. “You have to be kidding me?”
“I’m serious. I just don’t want you thinking you need to say all those routine compliments. Nothing has changed between yesterday and today. We’re just sleeping together now, that’s all.”
“You’re right; nothing’s changed. You were as beautiful then as you are now.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”
“Skye,” he reached for her hand with urgency, squeezing it between his fingers. “You’re nothing like Clare, nor the women I usually date. That’s true.”
“Yeah, I mean, they’re supermodels,” she said with an accepting nod. Every bit at stunning as Mia and Sal.