J.C. and the Bijoux Jolis (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #3)

And a moment later, when he found his own release, crying out her name like a prayer, she saw the same feelings in his eyes as he fought to keep them open and focused on her. She saw love. She saw passion. She saw forever.

She collapsed against him, limp and sated, her arms around him and his around her as their bodies rocked and trembled against each other. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she heard him whisper it in her ear: the word “love”…over and over and over again like a litany, so softly it could have been a dream.

“Love, love, love, love love love love…”

It was the thing that had made tonight different.

It was the thing that had made tonight perfect.

***

Hours later, after making love a second time, ordering dinner, and taking a shower together, they lay side by side on their stomachs, cheeks on their own pillows, facing each other. They’d fucked and they’d eaten, and now they were closer and closer to falling asleep, but not before they told each other silly stories about past lovers who’d meant nothing, who could never compare with what they’d discovered in one another’s arms.

“Shut up!” she exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “I dumped Alice for Bree.”

“So that’s why they hate you!”

“That’s why Alice hates me.”

Prim and proper Alice Story. It was the day she’d called him her “boyfriend” that had been the nail in the coffin. He’d gone home that weekend and run into Bree, who, not knowing about Alice, had been only too happy to distract him.

“Why does Bree?”

“Bree was friends with Alice, so she wasn’t thrilled to find out that I’d stopped hanging out with Alice to hang out with her. I might not have volunteered that information.”

“So Bree felt disloyal to her friend?”

“I guess that was part of it.” He shrugged. “But I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She wanted all of me. I could only give her a fraction.”

“Maybe it felt serious to her?” asked Libitz.

“I guess. But I never gave her reason to believe it was.” He reached out and cradled her face. “You’re the only one I’ve ever offered my heart to.”

“I know,” she said, rotating her head just slightly to kiss his palm. “And I’ll keep it safe. I promise.”

He felt it again, deep inside—that burst of rightness he felt whenever he was with Libitz. It made him feel grateful and strong, and he loved her for it. He couldn’t imagine how Neil must have felt today, finding out that he wouldn’t have a future with her. Poor bastard.

“How’d Neil take the news?”

Her face clouded over, and she dropped his eyes for a second. “Not good.”

A protective rush of emotion made him reach for her, rolling both of them to their sides so he could wrap his arms around her. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “He was upset. Hurt. Angry.”

“He said things?”

She nodded.

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry about that.”

Her face brightened, and she leaned forward to kiss him slowly, tenderly, their tongues dancing for a moment before she pulled away. “I’m not.”

“I’m going to make you happy, Libitz Feingold,” he promised.

“You already do,” she said. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Hey! Earlier, when you texted me, you said you found out something else! What was it?”

He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was draped over his chest. She propped her elbows on his pecs and smiled down at him.

“I almost forgot,” he said.

“Come on! Tell me!”

“What’ll you give me if I do?” he asked, grinning at her.

She arched her back, rubbing her pussy against his hip. “Whatever you want.”

“I called the art dealer in Marseille about the twins and found out that one of them is still alive. She’s ninety-five. I called her nursing home and asked if I could talk to her. They said I’d have to come in person. I’m going to Marseille this weekend,” he said in a rush, using one breath. “Let’s fuck.”

She started laughing, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she shook her head. “You’re an ass.”

“I can live with that,” he said.

“Wait. Are you serious about the twin?”

“Yes, she’s still alive. And yes, I’m going to go see her. My woman wants to know what happened to C.T., so I need to go find out for her.”

“Your…woman?”

He nodded, grinning up at her. “My woman.”

“Well,” she said, rolling onto her back, “how do you feel about company?”

“Yours?” He hovered over her, parting her legs with his knee, the hardness of his cock slipping, without error, into her hot, wet sheath and pausing there. She lifted her hips to let him know she wanted more, and he obliged her by withdrawing and then thrusting forward again.

“Mine,” she sighed, arching to meet his thrusts.

“I love it,” he said, still deeply lodged within her body. “Are you saying you want to come with me? To Marseille?”