“I want to come with you,” she whimpered breathlessly, sliding her hands down to his ass and digging her fingers into his skin with the next thrust.
“Give me about two minutes,” he said between pants, making the most of the delicious double entendre she’d set up for him. “But do you also want to come to Marseille?”
She managed to nod and murmur a breathless “Mm-hm” before he bent his head and kissed her, making good on his promise to deliver orgasm number six before midnight and looking forward to this weekend a hundred times more than he had a moment before.
Chapter 14
Their flight left at six o’clock on Friday night from New York with a quick stopover in London before arriving in Marseille at nine thirty on Saturday morning. It would be a quick trip, with them returning to New York tomorrow, but knowing how tired they would be, J.C. had arranged for their hotel room to be ready for them upon their arrival in Marseille.
En route to the InterContinental Mon Dieu, Libitz put her weary head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, giving J.C. a chance to call the nursing home where the surviving Gemini model, Madame Sylvia Comtois, was living. Told that she generally woke up for an hour or two in the midafternoon, the head nurse asked if he and Libitz could delay their visit until two o’clock, to which he gladly agreed. Libitz was snoring softly as the car negotiated late-summer traffic on the way to Vieux Port, and he was tired but content with his arm around her shoulders and the dead weight of her head on his shoulder.
They could check into their hotel and sleep for a few hours before exploring a bit of Marseille and finding a place for lunch before their visit with Madame Comtois.
He’d tried to convince Libitz to stay in Marseille for a few extra days, but her work ethic was fierce, and she’d soundly refused, telling him he’d have to go by himself if she had to miss more than a day of work.
Going without her wasn’t nearly as tempting as having her in bed beside him, so he’d agreed to travel all the way to Marseille for a day and a night as long as she’d promise to return to France with him for a week at New Year’s. Her answer—to suck his cock dry—he’d taken as a yes.
No wonder she was tired. They’d stayed up until early morning on Thursday, talking and making love, getting a few minutes of sleep between waking up to reach for each other again. He picked her up at work on Thursday evening and took her for dinner, after which they’d spent that night christening every room in her apartment. There was a freshness, a newness, an excitement in finding the right person after knowing so many who weren’t. And they were falling madly in love with each other. There was that too.
When he considered his siblings—étienne with Kate, Jax with Gardener, and Mad with Cort—he knew that the only woman he wanted by his side was Libitz, with her sharp wit and voracious mind, her love of art and love of family. The faith she had in him when he had deserved none and the way she soothed his fears, leading his heart back to hers at every juncture of doubt, stripping away his misgivings until all that was left was his deep and constant yearning to be with her.
It was more than just her personality. More than her delectable little body, which he’d loved in wild ways that had both satisfied and challenged the sexual beast within. It was as though she’d been chosen for him, and he for her—he felt she was his fated mate in every way, almost like something otherworldly had long ago decided that Jean-Christian Rousseau and Libitz Feingold should find each other in the big, wide world, and when they did, they should love one another. That’s how it felt. Like the fulfillment of a promise. Like the manifestation of destiny. Like nothing in the world could ever feel as right as his growing love for her. And he never, ever wanted to go back to a life that didn’t include her.
He wanted her forever.
And unlike his father, he would make the right choices.
And unlike his parents, he would do the work.
For the honor of knowing her, of loving her, of having her, he would do anything.
She stirred in her sleep. “Are we there yet?” she murmured.
“We’re so close, love,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly. “We’re almost there.”
***
Jean-Christian had let her sleep for a few hours, after which Libitz rose, showered, and dressed, feeling rested enough to tackle the remainder of their day in Marseille.
He’d left a note by the bedside: Gone wandering. Back by two. Love, Jean-Christian She’d held the note in her hands for a long moment, marveling over the leaps and strides in their new relationship and wondering if this was how it felt for everyone who met the elusive “one”: the person they were supposed to be with.