He looked into her eyes, and what he saw there sent heat surging through his veins. Lust settled heavily between his legs, and the knit briefs stretched as he grew hard. “Melanie, I . . .”
“The first kiss was mine to give.” She took a shaky breath. “The second one is up to you.”
Stepping forward, he cupped her face in both hands. Her dark lashes fluttered down as he lowered his head. Easy, Eldridge. Easy. Reining in his passion, he slowly mapped the contours of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he tasted, touched down, molded his mouth to hers.
Her tiny whimper loosened the bindings on his control. He delved deeper, thrusting with his tongue and sliding his fingers through her silken hair to grip the back of her head. The baguette and Perrier she’d been holding slipped to the floor and she wound her arms around his neck.
The more he invaded, the more she surrendered. This could only end one way. But she deserved a warning. Reluctantly ending the kiss, he looked into her passion-glazed eyes. “I’m taking you to bed.”
“Oh, thank God.”
That was all he needed. With a hoarse chuckle, he swept her up in his arms and carried her down the hall. She wanted him. In this erotic, pre-dawn darkness, all arguments against making love had vanished in the heat of their kiss. Holding her in his arms felt so right, as if he’d known her forever.
He laid her in the middle of his bed and climbed in beside her without turning on a light. The pale glow of the moon through the sheer curtains at his window seemed fitting to this magical moment. He didn’t speak, and neither did she.
They didn’t need words as they discarded clothing and greeted each new discovery with lips and tongue. He was used to taking the dominant role, but she’d have none of that. She was clearly the kind of cowgirl who wasn’t hesitant about going after what she wanted. Once he was nak*d, she pushed him onto his back and explored him with such thoroughness that he clenched his jaw against the urge to come.
As if she sensed that he was losing control, she gave him one last intimate kiss on the head of his c*ck before turning onto her back and stretching out in silent invitation. That simple gesture drove him wild. The urge to ravage her was strong, but he curbed it.
Instead he mimicked her technique and took his time. With slow kisses and gentle laps of his tongue, he roamed at will until she began to pant and writhe beneath him. But when he nuzzled the dark curls between her thighs, eager to make her come, she finally spoke.
“No.”
He lifted his head, surprised. “Why not? Don’t you like—”
“Oh, yes.” She gulped for air. “But I want . . . all of you.”
All of him. She wasn’t in his bed purely for her own pleasure. She was here because she wanted that ultimate connection . . . with him. She wanted to be as close as humanly possible. That told him something important about her, something he was very glad to know.
His c*ck seemed glad to hear it, too. By the time he’d slipped out of bed and located the box of condoms in his armoire, he was as rigid as a battering ram. That didn’t mean he had to act like one, though.
When he returned to her, he leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. “I’m mighty grateful for tonight.”
Her smile was barely visible in the faint light from the moon, but that smile shimmered in her reply. “Me, too.”
“I’m glad.” He moved over her, his heart beating fast. He’d bedded many women, but he’d never had the feeling that this one act could change his life. The feeling scared him a little, but not enough to make him stop. Nothing short of an earthquake could stop him now.
Her entrance was slick and hot. He’d meant to ease in so she could gradually get used to him, but she lifted her h*ps and instinct took over. He shoved deep, locking them together. And there it was again—the sense that he’d remember this moment forever.
She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, as if welcoming him home after a long journey. He wanted to believe that this connection felt significant to her, too. But he wouldn’t ask. Not now.
Bracing himself on his forearms, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. “This is good.”
Her warm breath tickled his mouth. “Extremely good.”
“I could stay right here for a long time.”
“So could I.” She clenched her muscles, squeezing his cock.
“But not if you do that.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Oh, I like it just fine. But you’re going to—” He gasped as she squeezed again. “You’ll make me come.”
“Don’t you want to?”
“Eventually.” He withdrew and pushed forward again. “But you’re first on the agenda.”
“Mm.” She executed a little rotating motion with her hips. “Let’s come together.”
“The first time? I don’t know if we can.”
“Let’s try.”
“Okay.” He began to pump slowly. God, that felt amazing, and he was seconds away. He fought the urge. “Talk to me. Tell me when you’re close.”
“Pretty close.” She rose to meet his next thrust. “Oh.” She quivered.
And then he didn’t need her to tell him anything. He knew. They were in perfect sync. He bore down, stroking faster, finding the right angle that made her gasp and tighten around his cock. His orgasm hovered, ready to pounce. There. Right . . . there.
She exploded. Her cries blended with his as he pounded into her quivering body and came . . . and came . . . in a rush of pleasure so intense he lost himself in the tumbling glory of it. Joyfully he abandoned his fate to the woman in his arms. To Melanie.
He’d been right. After this moment, his life would never be the same.
Seven
Melanie woke to the sound of bells. Disoriented, she sat up in a canopy bed draped in burgundy with gold trim. Drew’s bed. A blush covered every inch of her nak*d body as she remembered . . . all of it.
Maybe jet lag was affecting her perception, but she was pretty sure Drew was the best lover she’d ever had. Thinking about the pleasure they’d shared made her hot all over again. But she was glad he wasn’t here to see her in the unforgiving glare of morning light, because she must look like a mess.
The bells of Notre Dame finished their majestic musical number and began counting the hour with a resonance that sent chills down her spine. She counted along with the bells, because there was no clock in sight. Eleven? She was wasting valuable time!
The rest of the household was awake, naturally. The aroma of cooked food drifted up from downstairs, and her stomach cramped. She’d been starving at three in the morning. She’d moved past that stage to unbearable hunger pangs.
No doubt Drew had instructed his staff to stay off the third floor so she could sleep. She appreciated that, for modesty’s sake. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone bringing up a tray and finding her nak*d in Drew’s bed.
A polite guest would shower and dress before heading downstairs, but she wasn’t sure she could wait that long to eat. Maybe that hunk of cheese she’d thrown at Drew was still lying in the hall and she could gnaw on that before taking a shower.
When she climbed out of bed to look for her clothes, she found them neatly folded on an upholstered chair, along with a quickly scrawled note.
Pull the cord by your bed in your room and someone will bring you food.
—Drew
She glanced beside Drew’s bed and discovered a tasseled cord hanging there. How Old World. She’d seen such things in movies set in the early part of the twentieth century, but she would have expected Drew to install an intercom. Then again, he was the guy who preferred taking the stairs.
Apparently her room came equipped with the same old-fashioned way of summoning the help, and he was sensitive enough to know that she’d want food brought to her room instead of his. She slipped into her lounge pants and T-shirt.
Glancing at the bed, the scene of their mutual seduction, she smoothed the covers so it wouldn’t look quite so much like hot sex had taken place there a few hours ago. She would have made the bed, but Drew probably didn’t do that, and a made bed would look strange to whoever cleaned his room. Last of all she grabbed her hoodie and the note, which was another piece of incriminating evidence.
She opened the door warily and peered out. The hallway was empty. Scurrying down to her room, she dashed inside and closed the door. Safe.
Too bad she wasn’t sophisticated enough to sashay out of Drew’s bedroom without worrying about being seen. But she was a simple country girl who wasn’t used to hav**g s*x with a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours. The concept still boggled her mind, but the reality had been wonderful. She wasn’t the least bit sorry, but she’d still rather not have the servants know.
Walking over to the tasseled cord she’d missed seeing earlier, she gave it a pull. Now that was decadence. She wondered what sort of breakfast they’d bring her, but in her current state, she didn’t care. She headed for the shower.
She’d wrapped a towel around her wet hair and was drying off with a second one from the heated rack when she heard footsteps and smelled coffee. Hallelujah, her food had arrived! Wrapping herself in the white towel, she walked out of the bathroom and came face-to-face with Drew. “Oh! I didn’t expect you to deliver it!”
“Hope you don’t mind.” He wore an open-necked dress shirt and jeans, the same yummy combination he’d had on the day before, complemented by the sexy aroma of his cologne.
“Of course not.” Just like that, food lost its number one ranking. Melanie looked into his blue eyes and basked in the warmth of his smile. She couldn’t help smiling back. He had that kind of effect on her. “Thank you.”
“Actually, I came up to thank you . . . for last night.”
Her heart pounded faster. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“No regrets?”
“None.”
He let out a breath. “Good. I was afraid . . . well, never mind.” His glance swept over her. “I’m gettin’ out of here before I forget myself.” His Texas drawl was more pronounced. “You look way too good to me, darlin’.”
“I could say the same.” She trembled as she imagined herself pressed against his lean body.
He groaned and backed toward the door. “I mean it. I’m gone. Eat some breakfast and get dressed. I have something downstairs in the sitting room that I want to show you.” He went out the door and closed it.
As she listened to his footsteps retreating down the hall, she battled the urge to call him back. Her body throbbed in anticipation of something that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. She wished he’d kissed her, at the very least. But that would have been a mistake if he hadn’t wanted to start something, considering that she was one dropped towel away from being conveniently nak*d.
She reminded herself that the servants were up and about. In that charged moment when he’d stood close enough to touch, she’d forgotten anyone else was in the house, or in the world, for that matter. Whenever she looked into his eyes, her surroundings disappeared. He was one potent dude.
With an effort, she pushed away all thoughts of getting hot and sweaty with Drew Eldridge. She dressed quickly in a clean T-shirt and jeans, finger-combed her damp hair, and sat at the desk to eat. The meal was incredible—a gourmet version of eggs Benedict, a bowl of sliced fruit, warm croissants with butter and jam, and the best coffee she’d ever been privileged to drink.
She forced herself to slow down and savor it, even though she was extremely hungry and also curious about what Drew wanted to show her downstairs. Then she remembered that he’d asked for her clothing sizes while they’d ridden home in the car yesterday. Maybe the outfits had arrived.
Damned if she didn’t feel like Cinderella. Her life on the ranch didn’t require fancy clothes. She’d kept a couple of dresses she’d worn to parties in college, but now they just gathered dust in her closet.
But Prince Charming had asked her to the ball, or the equivalent of that. And she would be transformed, just like Cinderella, so she could attend in style. This fairy tale didn’t feel wrong or bad, but it did seem weird. She couldn’t equate anything that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours with previous experience. Even the sex had been more dazzling than any she’d known.
Before the amazing sex, she’d planned to suggest a compromise that involved accepting some of Drew’s plan without abandoning herself to the entire program. But as it always did, sex had changed everything. She didn’t want to trundle off by herself and waste hours standing in line at the Eiffel Tower. She wanted to spend every available minute of her visit with Drew, either by his side as they enjoyed Paris or in his bed as they enjoyed each other.
She’d never in a million years expect this interlude to transfer to their lives in Dallas, but he was offering her paradise for the rest of her stay in Paris. Only a fool would say no to that. She wasn’t worried anymore that he’d spoil her for normal life, either. She was living a dream, and when she flew home, she’d wake up.
After eating every last morsel on her tray, she found a blow-dryer in the bathroom and styled her hair. She suspected that the clothes she was about to try on would require more than a casual ponytail. She was both curious and eager to see what a Paris shopping guru had picked out for her.
Finally, she put on her running shoes, because she had nothing else. Then she made her bed, replaced her towels on the rack, and picked up the breakfast tray. Servants were probably supposed to do all that, but she hadn’t been raised to leave chaos in her wake.
A middle-aged woman dressed in black slacks and a white blouse was polishing the banister on the second floor. She spoke only French, but she made it clear that she would take the tray from mademoiselle or know the reason why. Melanie relinquished the tray and followed the woman down the stairs.