For the entire afternoon, not willing to brave the stairs up to the loft on one leg, I hobbled around, took a nap on the couch, called my best friend, Ginelle, and checked in with Aunt Millie. Both Gin and Aunt Millie found it hysterical that I’d twisted my ankle and was stuck at the mercy of a hot French artist guy. Gin called me a lucky bitch and Aunt Millie just ended her call with a “Have fun doll-face.”
The door of the elevator dinged, and I could hear the metal scraping as the gates were opened. I couldn’t see anything from my position on the couch, but I didn’t have to wait long. Alec strode through the room carrying crutches and a white takeout bag that smelled deliciously like Chinese food. Without delay, Alec set the food on the coffee table, leaned the crutches on the side of the couch, then came to my side where he sat.
Before I could open my mouth he’d cupped both sides of my neck, his thumbs on the apples of my cheeks where he proceeded to kiss each cheek. His lips were warm and left an impression long after he’d moved back to stare into my eyes. “How are you, ma jolie?”
“Uh, fine, I guess,” I blinked and he smiled. “What does ma jolie mean?”
Alec’s lips curved at the edge as he cocked his head to the side. His hand reached out and pushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead, past my temple and behind my ear. The air around us was thick, filled with the promise of something I couldn’t yet name. “It translates to ‘my pretty’ in English.”
“Oh, okay,” I whispered not capable of looking away from those tawny-colored eyes.
“Hungry?” he asked, his Rs rolling delectably.
I nodded. My throat felt dry as I watched him stand, enter the kitchen and bring back some plates and serving utensils before coming back to sit too close to me. One entire side of his body was plastered against mine. If I moved away, it would be obvious, and I didn’t want to make another bad impression on my new client, so instead I endured his warmth. And his scent. That smell would be my demise. It was a mixture of fresh paint and Hugo Boss. The only reason I even knew that scent was because I’d once worked as a spray girl in the local shopping mall in Vegas. They had me spraying all kinds of crap. So much so you left working smelling like a bag of potpourri. Hugo Boss had a yummy male smell that seemed to arrow through my nostrils and land bullseyed between my legs.
With effort, I tried to scooch over a bit. Alec just looked at me and winked then finished plating the Chow Mein and Kung Pao. “I hope you like Chinese food,” he offered the plate to me.
I gripped it greedily, brought it close my face, closed my eyes, and inhaled the heavenly mix of chicken, sauces and noodles steaming on the plate. The food smelled so good my mouth watered, and I moaned then dug in. When I looked up, Alec had stopped plating his own food and was staring at me. What I saw almost made me choke. Those eyes of his were blazing hot, his lust plainly visible. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“You are startlingly beautiful.” He touched the side of my cheek and cupped it. Inadvertently, I curved my face further into his palm, sealing the connection. It had only been a few days, but I missed a man’s touch. Alec traced my bottom lip with his thumb then his voice turned husky. “Tu est le cadeau de Dieu au monde.”
“What does that mean?”
“‘God’s gift to the world.’ That’s what you are. And I intend for everyone to glory in such a gift.”
A gift. Alec thinks I’m a gift to the world. A beautiful one.
I wasn’t able to respond. Not when he set aside the making of his dinner. Not when he took my plate and set it on the table. Not when he leaned into my space until we were a scant couple inches apart. But I did respond the moment my frazzled brain registered his kiss.
Warm, supple, and sweet. His lips brushed mine before he sucked in my bottom lip and ran his tongue along the sensitive tissue. That was as far as it got before I gripped his neck and pulled him further into me. My fingers tunneled into his hair. When I encountered a hair tie, that just wouldn’t do. I pulled on that tie until it snapped and lemon-scented, thick hair tumbled in waves against my cheeks, shrouding our kiss in the haven of his luscious locks. Alec cupped my chin and turned my head to the side, sliding his tongue in and out, learning what made me tick, moan, and bite. And I did. Bite that is. I nipped at his lips like a starving animal would a steak. He didn’t seem to mind. At one point, I was pretty certain he growled—yes, growled—into the kiss taking it impossibly deeper.
Excitement roared through my body, and I tensed, wanting to bring Alec closer, needing him to be. As I was trying to lean back on the couch so he could get on top of me, he pulled back. His forehead rested against mine. “Très jolie fille,” he whispered in the language that was quickly becoming a major turn-on. Not that it wasn’t before, but after having his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his words caressed along my senses as easily as I imagined his touch would. With purpose, with desire, with lust.