In a rush of words, I tell him the truth. Part of it, anyway. “I’m not playing anything now. I’m just me.”
“I like just you. So maybe let’s keep just you. You live in Corsica. You were an exchange student. You have a sister in America.”
Wait.
Did I tell him that?
“I don’t see the need to say any more than that,” he finishes.
“How did you know that about me?”
“Some you told me last night, some is in your file. I looked it up yesterday because I was angry at myself for not knowing my employees better. I blame myself for yesterday.”
Interesting. Okay, so that seems plausible.
I quickly change the subject away from my family.
“You can’t control the behavior of every man that comes in there.”
A sudden flare in his eyes tells me he wishes he could.
“I know. But I can increase security measures. I can screen my patrons more thoroughly.”
“Fair enough. So there’s nothing I need to know, then?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “My father was a good man. Some say he wasn’t, but they didn’t know him. He was loyal to his family and my mother worshipped him. She’s never been the same since his death.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He nods almost imperceptibly. “You’ll like her. She is a bit of a perfectionist but an excellent hostess. Soft-spoken, likes to stay in the background.”
“Got it.”
“I have two younger brothers, Thayer and Lyam. Thayer’s a year and a half younger than I am, plays by the rules. Perfectionist. His attention to detail comes in handy. Lyam’s the exact opposite. The baby of the family, he throws caution to the wind like he was meant to live on adrenaline instead of food. He dove off his changing table at ten months old and broke both of his legs, and pretty much hasn’t stopped since.”
A shadow crosses his face that he quickly hides. Something about Lyam troubles him.
“Oh wow.” I pause. Swallow. “And you?”
A casual shrug. “I fall somewhere in between the two of them.”
How so?
I’m eager to meet his brothers. You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their family. “And I’ll meet them this weekend?”
“Thayer. Lyam is… away. Now, no more talk of them. I want to know more about you.”
I don’t want to talk about me. I want to distract him, so I can drown out Gwen’s warnings to me.
I want to earn my money. I can talk about me and change the subject at the same time.
“Hmm,” I say, as I run my fingers along the soft leather of the seat. “I like the feel of luxury. In fact, I do believe leather is an aphrodisiac, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.”
“So are cognac and sandalwood. I do believe you may be seducing me, sir.”
“You’re the one wearing something with lavender and vanilla,” he retorts. “The question is, who’s seducing whom?”
I turn to face him fully. I draw in a breath, suddenly aware of the way my chest rises and falls, the way my belly dips and plummets. My pulse at my wrists and neck.
I’ve only skirted the very edge of Fabien Gerard. I want to take the plunge, even though I already know I’ll never be the same again.
“Seems to me…” I say thoughtfully, turning to him. “Mutual seduction sounds like one hell of a time.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fabien
Everything about her thrills me. Literally everything.
Nicolette.
The vivacious, curvy brunette with those gray-green eyes and heart-shaped mouth are enough to turn any head. The way she talks, the way she moves… I want to hold her against me and run my palms down the length of her body. I want to stroke the swell of her breasts and make her body hum for me. I want to kiss her mouth and inhale her moans of pleasure.
But it’s more than that. So much more. Her wit and charm, somehow still tinged with a brush of innocence despite what she’s gone through, entices me to know more.
I know how I am. I know who I am. And I know if I allow myself to touch her any more… to taste her, to feel her… I’ll have to own her.
I can’t help it, though.
I can’t help dragging her onto my lap.
I can’t help diving my fingers into the silky strands of her hair.
I can’t help leaning down to kiss the gentle slope of her neck.
And when she sighs against me and leans in closer, I can’t help capturing her mouth with mine.
I mean for it to be a gentle kiss. I just want a little taste.
But when my lips meet hers, my hunger grows. She licks her tongue against mine, and the sudden need to possess her grips me in a vise-like hold. I forget for a minute where we are, who we are. I need to claim this woman.
Mine, mine, MINE.
I kiss her hungrily, like I’m starving and her mouth brings me sustenance. I kiss her with abandon, relishing every moan as the heat between us kindles and sparks. I kiss her until her body melts against me, as pliant and supple as warmed toffee.