Читать книгу Pleasure Games / Legal Attraction - Lisa Childs - Страница 15

CHAPTER FIVE

I WILL BE waking you up...to check on you.

There was nothing sexual about that comment. Absolutely nothing. In fact, it was the opposite of sexual; it was merely a statement made by a man who had been forced to take care of a strange American woman he’d found passed out on the street.

So why did she feel turned on?

She stood in the bedroom doorway, staring at the kitchen. Luca stopped working at the sink to glance down the hall, and even from a distance, Jasmine was immobilized by his gaze. After an indeterminate amount of time, he looked away and the spell was broken. Jasmine hurried into the bedroom, pulled the covers back and crawled between the sheets. The cotton was cool and welcoming to her overheated body. The bed was soft, and for the first time in days, Jasmine relaxed.

Even the throbbing pain in her temple had mellowed to a dull ache.

She turned her head and breathed in. The subtle fragrance of Luca’s aftershave clung to his pillow. Spicy. Masculine. Delicious. Lying on her side, she stole the other pillow and hugged it, burrowing her nose into the faint scent. God. What would it be like to have sex with him? To feel the scruff of his unshaven jaw against her sensitive skin? His hands—those strong hands—touching her body? Exploring. Squeezing. Penetrating.

His mouth—oh, yes, she’d sneaked glances at his mouth during dinner. Full lips. Expressive. The kind of lips that were made for kissing.

French kissing.

And maybe more.

Weren’t French men known for enjoying kissing a woman...everywhere?

Jasmine rubbed her knees together.

She’d never experienced that.

Apart from some serious groping in high school with a shy cowboy, Parker had been her first and only. He had wooed her with romantic dinners and expensive gifts. He’d complimented her all the time, but with words, never touch. When he’d told her he wanted to wait until marriage to have sex, Jasmine had put her foot down and nixed that idea. She’d read an article in one of Parker’s men’s magazines about the importance of being compatible in bed and had even shared it with him.

The following night they’d had wine with dinner—lots and lots of wine, now that she thought about it—and that had been their first time. Her first time, period, so she hadn’t had anything to compare it to.

Well, except her imagination.

But she’d been too uncertain to ask for what she wanted, at first, and later Parker had been so busy with work they could never find the time. And he was so generous about everything else, she didn’t want to pressure him.

But doubts had crept in and she’d started to wonder if she was somehow inadequate.

She rolled onto her back, the pillow lying un-hugged on top of her. How had she not seen what was going on with her ex-fiancé?

Jasmine had found there were only two ways to alleviate her unsatisfied arousal. Masturbation and fantasy.

Highly detailed sexual fantasies.

They had been her form of counting sheep every night after Parker had nodded off.

She wrapped her arms around the pillow on top of her, letting her mind drift, calling up her latest fantasy involving a sexy space crime fighter, an outlaw in an intergalactic universe.

In this reoccurring fantasy, her hero rescues her from an evil alien’s harem and whisks her away to a secluded tropical planet on the outskirts of the galaxy. Her outlaw takes it upon himself to teach her to enjoy sex again. He starts slowly, touching her—only touching—every fucking inch of her body until she is moaning with desire. Then he leaves her wanting on a bed made of some super-awesome alien material that heightens a person’s sexual desire when they simply lie on top of it. He returns the next day, this time kissing and licking her entire body.

In her mind, everything was crystal clear...

He’s lying between her spread legs, his strong hands pushing her thighs wider, his dark hair—almost black—brushing her belly. A firm tongue nudging her clit one way and then the other. When her hips buck, he holds them down, pressing her into the mattress that sends blasts of arousal across the surface of her skin and into the very depths of her body. When next she raises her hips, he lowers his mouth until he’s sucking on her most vulnerable parts, her ass in his hands, kissing, licking, sucking until she can’t stand it...

Jasmine’s hand roved down beneath the sheets. She wasn’t even aware of untying the string at the waistband of the shorts until her fingers delved into her wet heat, mimicking the tongue of her fantasy lover.

God.

You like that?

“Yes, oh, yes,” Jasmine murmured against the pillow.

You want this?

“Yes.” The word was said on a gasp as she rubbed her clit with the pads of her fingers.

Oh, baby...another lick, another suck, You’ve got the sweetest pussy. I can’t get enough...

Jasmine lifted her hips off the bed as her fingers penetrated her slick channel. The man in her fantasy looked up from what he was doing. Dark hair. Dark brows. A week-old beard. The bluest eyes.

This wasn’t the man from her fantasy.

It was Luca.

Her orgasm hit her like a rogue asteroid, knocking her out of orbit, shattering her as she pressed one hand on top of the other between her legs lest she literally explode.

* * *

Luca stood outside the door. The woman was moaning. In pain? Should he go in? He put his hand on the doorknob and was about to turn the handle when she cried out.

Then everything went quiet.

That was not good. He didn’t want to walk in to find her passed out. Or worse. He waited a few seconds before knocking.

“Jasmine? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” she called in a high-pitched voice.

“Bien. I’ll wake you around midnight, okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Perfect. That’s good. Thank you.”

Luca’s hands lingered on the door before he moved to the bathroom to wash up. It was early, yet, for him, only nine thirty, but he should try to rest if he was going to rouse the woman every four hours.

“What else do you have to do?” he asked his reflection. “You’ve got two more weeks to wait before returning to work. You should be glad for the distraction.”

Distraction was fine, but this distraction was a little too...distracting.

He dried his face, the image of Jasmine’s naked back burned into his irises.

“She’ll be gone tomorrow,” he muttered, then he hung up the towel and turned the light off.

On his way to the living room, he paused outside her door, listening. No more moans. No more sounds. He hoped that meant all was well. He moved past and settled his frame onto the sofa, reaching for the laptop that sat on the coffee table. Like every night for the past week, he navigated the web to the Legrand website.

When Myra Monte took over the estate’s publicity, she convinced Luca to auction off one of three remaining bottles of the Legrand Goût des Rubis. The exclusive rosé blend had been commissioned for the marriage of Grace Kelly to Prince Rainier in 1956, and the bottle included a two-carat ruby in its label. While the bottles were meant to be passed down through the family, Luca had readily made the decision to give one up for the auction if it meant he could maintain control of the estate.

Already the international interest from collectors had been a distraction from Luca’s dishonor and prompted an uptick in champagne prices.

Luca entered a name into the search engine: Marcel Durand. He’d done the same thing every night for a week. Watching for any new article or item to show up. He creeped his social media pages and watched for any indication of the slimy eel Luca knew him to be. But, he had to admit, the guy knew how to keep his nose clean.

Luca could almost hear François’s voice telling him he could learn a thing or two from this young man.

Salaud! Bastard!

“Literally.” Luca ground his teeth.

He was just about to type in another search when he noticed something new. An announcement of Marcel’s engagement to Lydia Fournier—hmm...the name sounded familiar. Luca must have met her at one of the functions the company had held in the last eleven months. She was blonde and tall, almost as tall as Marcel, who stood beside her in the photo that had been posted in today’s paper. Luca skimmed the article, reading that she had been attending university in Madrid. Then he stopped reading.

So, Marcel was living a perfect life. That would end when Luca exposed him for what he was, though he still had no idea how to go about doing it.

Probably because it was difficult to make a move when he was in hiding, rarely going out during the day. Of course, today had been the exception. This morning, he’d gone for a long ride along the Loire River valley. Riding was the only thing that kept him sane.

But instead of sanity, what had he gotten? An American damsel in distress.

The polar opposite of sanity.

Worse, this damsel just happened to have gorgeous, thick hair, soul-melting eyes and the nicest ass he’d ever seen...

Luca pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a sucker for a beautiful woman in need. Wasn’t that how he’d met Anika? She’d had too much to drink during a party on a yacht. He’d held her hair while she got sick.

Without thinking about what he was doing—maybe it was a reminder of why not to get involved with the devil that was woman—Luca typed “Luca Legrand sex video” into the search engine.

Despite the fact that Luca’s team had had the video taken down—and wanted to take legal action against the original site that posted it—it had spent far too long online before he’d become aware of the situation and had it handled. Millions of viewers had seen it.

Merde.

And millions were still talking about it, if the current search results from blogs and gossip sites were any indication. Luca didn’t doubt the internet was rife with illegal copies that could still be viewed somewhere. The whole situation was a nightmare—one that felt impossible to contain. Some sadistic need to punish himself had him opening the original copy of the video and hitting the Play button. The video was dark and amateurish—because when he and Anika had made it, it was for their eyes only—but her face was clearly distinguishable. As was his as he tied her up, spread-eagled, to the bed. An act that took ultimate trust had been corrupted by exposure to the public.

Luca rubbed his forehead before exiting the video. He returned to the search results online and clicked on the first hit, then scrolled to the comments beneath the article. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. More figurative self-flagellation.

What an asshole.

Luca Legrand can tie me up anytime.

Anika deserves better than that sadistic pig.

He should be thrown in jail...

With a growl, he snapped the laptop lid closed, pushed the computer back onto the coffee table, got to his feet and paced the length of the small living room. What his surfing had confirmed for him was that he could not afford another scandal. He needed to get rid of the American woman first thing without her or anyone else finding out about his involvement.

He could drop her at the embassy—but she had no money and no one to vouch for her.

He could take her back to the street where the shop was to see if she would remember anything. Maybe her bag was still at the shop. Or, more likely, it was at the police station.

He opened the French doors onto the small balcony and went to stand at the rail, breathing in the night air, considering his options. The woman’s memory was faulty and she didn’t know his real name. Even if she tried to describe him to the police, what were the chances they’d find out it was him? He could vacate the flat, go somewhere else, maybe head south of the city to the villa he’d avoided for twelve years. Perhaps if he just dropped her off at the police station and then drove away...

No. The possibility that someone local would see him and recognize him was too much of a gamble. Once again, it was François’s voice in his head telling him it was too risky.

He leaned his elbows on the rail and gazed out.

Wait.

He stood up straight.

Maybe he should call François and get him to help. François was as intent on keeping things quiet as Luca was.

That wasn’t a bad idea.

Why hadn’t he thought to call the lawyer sooner? He’d do it first thing in the morning.

With the decision made, Luca went back inside and settled onto the sofa, his bed for the night. The ride and fresh air this morning had tired him out. Worrying about the woman had taken the last of his energy and he was tired. However, instead of sleep, images of Jasmine’s sweetly curved spine appeared behind his closed lids. Why he let his mind wander in that direction, he couldn’t say. Maybe because she’d be gone by morning.

Luca saw himself kneeling behind her, hands on either side of her sloped hips, his tongue tracing the indent of her spine at the top of her ass. Circling those delicate dimples, kissing high up on the globes of her cheeks.

Luca?

“Hmm?”

Will you kiss me? Please?

She turned herself around, presenting the front of herself. There was a silky patch of hair over her mound, so soft and glistening he had to stroke...with his cheek. “Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, gazing up at her.

Everywhere.

“It would be my pleasure,” he mumbled quietly.

“Luca?”

Luca’s eyes popped open. Jasmine was standing above him, gazing down at him with a—smirk?—on her face.

Fuck.

Sitting up quickly, Luca hoped to hide his raging erection from the woman who had caused it because she’d been starring in his fantasy only two seconds ago. “Jasmine?” He cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and then winced. “I’m fine. But I was lying in bed...” For some reason her cheeks turned pink. “And... I...” Her gaze met his. Her eyes sparkled.

Jesus, was she psychic and able to read his mind? Did she know what he’d been fantasizing about?

“I think I remember what happened.”