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.