Chapter Thirty
The hotel was expecting them. Shouldn’t have surprised Claire, given Jean-Luc’s connections, but it did. The staff handed over the keys to two suites without question or payment and ushered them to the top floor of the hotel. Jean-Luc hesitated at the two doors, then very slowly held out one of the keys to her. “If you need anything, we’ll be right—”
He was trying to be a gentleman. She understood that. But she didn’t want a gentleman right now. She was exhausted, numb, and needed to remember what it felt like to be alive. She closed her hand around his and tugged him toward her.
“Uh…yeah, okay.” Marcus motioned to the door over his shoulder with the key card. “I’ll just, uh, take this one then. Reconvene at 0300?”
“F’sure,” Jean-Luc said.
“Try to get at least a little bit of sleep, all right?” With that, Marcus unlocked his door and disappeared inside.
“I don’t plan to sleep,” Claire said as she turned to unlock their room. She was done being coy about this. She nearly died last night. Now, in the light of day, it seemed foolish not to take what she wanted, and she wanted Jean-Luc. Had since she first saw him at the hotel in Martinique, and their rendezvous in her tent last night hadn’t sated her. If anything, it only made her desire sharper, more urgent.
The door opened to a cozy living/dining combo, with deep, cushy furniture and a large TV on one wall. Through a set of double doors was a king-sized bed and a master bath with a huge soaking tub.
It was every bit as luxurious as she’d expect a penthouse suite to be back home, and she marveled at the amenities as she went from room to room. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been surrounded by such creature comforts. Before her life on the run began in Martinique, she’d been in the Amazon jungle for two months researching Zika. She hadn’t had a bath in… too long.
She returned to the living room and found Jean-Luc collapsed in one of the chairs. He looked exhausted. He needed the night she had planned as much as she did.
She took off her dress and let it drop to the floor. The rustle of fabric drew his attention, and he glanced up. His eyes flashed bright with lust. As she stripped off her panties and let them fall into the colorful pool of her dress, he devoured her with his gaze, ravished her without even touching her.
A sound of pure masculine need rumbled from his chest. “Dieu, you’re beautiful.”
She started toward him, but he held up both hands as if to ward off her advance. Surprised by his resistance, she stopped. Told herself not to be embarrassed by her boldness. She hadn’t misread him. She knew she hadn’t, and yet… “Don’t you want this?”
“More than you know. But…” He seemed to struggle with what he was about to say. “But first, listen. I can’t be with you without… Aw, merde, this is hard. Claire, I’ve been with a lot of women. A lot. A few men, too, if I’m honest. I’ve been in my fair share of threesomes.”
Oh. Was that all? Tension seeped out of her. If he thought he was talking her out of having sex with him, he was sorely mistaken. “I’ve never had a threesome. What’s it like?”
His eyebrows lifted. Surprised him, had she?
“A lot of stray body parts and multitasking,” he said, watching with rapt attention as she closed the rest of the distance between them.
“Hmm. I’m great at multitasking. Should we invite Marcus to join us?”
His fingers dug into her hips and pulled her possessively toward him. “Fuck, no. You’re mine and I’m not good at sharing what’s mine.”
She straddled his lap and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought you were cursed with celibacy?”
He watched her fingers work, his breaths coming faster with each button she released. “Who told you that?”
“Marcus.”
“Asshole doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”
“So it’s true.” She traced a finger down his exposed chest and abs to the edge of his jeans. “You think you’re cursed.”
“Yes, I am. Was. Am. I don’t know anymore.” On a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut and caught her wrist. “I was a man-whore whose life’s mission was to fuck. I was always safe, but I was never…discerning, and I hate myself for it. Maybe a shrink would say I’ve always hated myself and that’s why I use sex like a drug and—”
He stopped talking, and when he opened his eyes, she saw a vulnerability in him she’d never glimpsed before. “Claire, I—I don’t want tonight to be—like that. To have that under-layer of desperation.”
She leaned in, pausing with her lips barely touching his. “This isn’t desperation. I told you I want to live. My close call last night only cemented that decision for me. I want to live, and you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever known.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”
“I promise, no regrets.” She kissed him, a light feather-brush of her lips back and forth over his until he opened his eyes again. “Let’s be a bit reckless. Just for tonight.”
“Oh, I can do reckless.” He lunged forward to return her kiss, but she backed away before their lips touched.
She stood up and grinned at his disappointed frown. “But first, I want a bath.”
Without waiting for his response, she dashed toward the bathroom. She heard him cursing as he struggled to get out of the deep chair and give chase. He caught her just as she leaned over the tub to start the water.
“Tease.” His hands clamped around her hips and drew her rear back against the firm ridge of his arousal. He still wore his jeans and rocked forward, rubbing the fabric against her butt cheeks. The denim rasped over her sensitive skin, made her nipples harden, and her arms and legs shake.
“Do you still want me to fuck you with my cock?” His voice rumbled next to her ear followed by a nip at her earlobe that sent her reeling. “Or would you rather have my fingers? My mouth?”
She gripped the edge of the tub for support. “Yes.”
His laughter was wicked, his breath hot on the side of her neck. “Yes, what?” He slid a hand down the front of her body and parted her with two fingers while a third rubbed circles around her clit.
She gasped. “I want all of you.”
“I can tell. You’re soaking my fingers. I’ll fuck you right here with your ass up in the air and you hanging on to that pretty tub. Hard and fast.” The rhythm of his hips changed, pumping against her backside, fulfilling the promise of his words. “Is that how you want it?”
She whimpered and thrust her rear toward him. Her mouth had gone dry. It felt like all the moisture in her body had flooded between her legs, readying her channel to accept him. She licked her lips, but her voice still came out a rasp. “Yes. Take me right now. Hard. Just like this.”
He cursed and the heat of him left her. She heard his zipper, then the thunk of his pants hitting the floor. She glanced over her shoulder. He still wore his white shirt, unbuttoned, but he was naked from the waist down and his impressive length jutted straight out from his body as if reaching for her. He took a condom from his jeans pocket and roughly rolled it on, then he was behind her again, his cock seeking at her entrance. He kicked her feet wider, put a hand on the back of her neck, pushing her head down toward the rising water in the tub, and slammed all the way into her.
Their joining was violent and perfect. Both pain and pleasure. His other hand was still between her legs, teasing her clit so that every thrust had pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, sizzling out across her nerve endings. Her fingers and toes tingled. Her head filled with white noise as he continued the punishing rhythm, all the while whispering naughty-sounding things in languages she didn’t know.
That coil inside her snapped taut and sensation flooded her body, so bright and sharp it verged on pain. A primal scream ripped from her throat and bounced around the bathroom’s tile walls, mingling with the erotic slap of their bodies as he hammered into her once, twice more, then he groaned and she felt him convulse inside her.
Gasping and sweat slicked, Claire collapsed against the tub. With past lovers, she’d rarely climaxed, and when she had it was soft and sweet. Nothing like this.
He released his grip on the back of her neck. He probably left his fingerprints in her skin there, and the thought of it gave her a heady sense of satisfaction…and anticipation. She’d leave her own marks on him before the night was over.
Jean-Luc heaved in a breath and pushed himself upright. They both shuddered when he pulled out of her. She missed the heat of him immediately, wanted him back inside her.
He muttered something in French, and sat down hard on the side of the tub. His hand shook as he removed the condom. “Did I hurt you, ma belle?”
She laughed because what he’d just done to her body was the furthest possible thing from harm. She reached over to turn off the faucet before it overflowed, then sat down beside him. Steam rose invitingly from the tub. She dragged her hand through the hot water. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”
“Mais, I might have hurt myself.” On a groan, he pushed to his feet and tossed the condom in the trash. When he turned back, his expression softened. “Aw, cher. Vous êtes si belle.”
You’re so beautiful.
Suddenly self-conscious, she took her hand from the water and pushed a strand of sweaty hair off her cheek. “I’m a mess.”
“No. You’re all rosy and sexy. Gorgeous. I already want you again.”
“Uh-uh.” She held up a hand as he prowled toward her. “Bath first.”
He scowled at the tub like it had just insulted his mother, then sighed dramatically. “All right. Ten minutes.”
She slid into the water and let out a happy sigh. The blinding orgasm coupled with the heat of the water had every ounce of tension seeping out of her muscles. She felt weightless, contented, and a bit sleepy. Ten minutes? She thought she might never leave this tub again. She leaned her head back against the rim and closed her eyes. “Mmm, we’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will.” She couldn’t see it with her eyes closed, but heard the slow spread of his grin in his voice. “Bet I can make you beg to leave the tub.”
She opened her eyes. Yes, there was that grin, all mischief and mayhem. She couldn’t help but note his body was recovering fast from the sex. His cock lengthened, hardened, and she felt her nipples tighten, her own body pulsing in anticipation.
She splashed him. “No bet!”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
“I know I will.”
He slid into the water behind her and picked up a bar of soap. Rubbed it over her breasts, rasping his thumbs deliberately over her hard nipples. “Let’s see how long you last. I say you’ll be begging for my cock again long before the ten minutes is up.”
She dropped her head back on his shoulder. “I don’t like to lose.”
“Competitive, are you? I like that in a woman. Makes things interesting.” His hand moved lazily down her belly, then lower. He slid the bar of soap between her thighs. The slippery sensation made her gasp, and Jean-Luc took the opportunity offered by her open mouth to kiss her deeply. He dropped the soap and used his fingers to—
“Oh, God.” That thing he did, relentlessly drawing circles around her clit without ever actually touching it, made her crazy.
His laugh was all wicked pleasure in her ear. “Are you begging yet? Because if you are, I really want to get you into a bed so I can take my time.”
She whimpered because his teasing fingers just weren’t enough friction.
“I can’t hear you, ma belle.” He stopped with the maddening circles and pressed his thumb right to the sensitive bud.
She bucked against his hand. “Oh my God. Yes. Now. We need to get out of the tub now.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He laughed softly and nipped at her earlobe.
He scooped her up and climbed out of the tub, not bothering with the drain or stopping to dry either of them off.
As he carried her into the bedroom, she imagined cliff diving must be a similar experience to sex with Jean-Luc. Terrifying, thrilling, a little bit dangerous…
And so very addicting.