Page 11 of Madam Alana

“Lost?” I whispered, knowing exactly what that felt like.

“Then I saw you, and, suddenly, I was found. My hands itchedto get to work. Instantly I wanted to sculpt your face out of clay. I want topaint your delicate features so the entire world may look upon your glory andsee what I see.” He traced the edge of my jaw with a single finger until Ilooked into his eyes.

“I have never known beauty such as yours. It would be atravesty not to share it with the world.” His voice was a deep rumble, athunderstorm barreling through his chest and into mine where we pressedtogether.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He nuzzled his nose against mine. “I think you are an angelcome from the heavens to bring great change. I do not know your entire story,but I wish to earn such a privilege one day. I believe together we can sharesomething unique. Something neither of us knew could be possible.”

“I’m not what you think I am,” I responded, needing him tounderstand he was wrong. There was absolutely nothing heavenly or special aboutme. I was an orphan who’d been abandoned by her own mother. I was an abusedwoman who had barely survived horrors that no human being should have toexperience. Damaged goods. He’d eventually see the truth.

“I think you are Alana Toussaint. My wife. My heart. Mymuse. I will accept no less.” He dipped his head and kissed me.

That kiss was unlike our first at the wedding ceremony.

It was harder, holding more meaning and context than before.And when he opened his mouth, I didn’t hesitate to do the same.

He groaned as his tongue slid along mine, the pleasurablesound hammering through my body. The kiss rose and fell like a summer breeze.His hunger for me took the desire higher, building to something that couldexplode at any moment. When that feeling came over me, I eased back, softenedthe press of my lips to his, and shifted to a gentler pace. He paid attentionto my movements, allowing me to drive our passion in whatever direction Iwanted.

I tested this theory by threading my fingers through thelonger layers at the sides of his head, glorying in the silky strands slippingalong my skin. He tipped his head to the side, and I followed, flicking mytongue inside hismouthand sucking on his tongue. Hiships jerked, Christophe’s manhood responding to my touch. I wiggled my behind,pride filling my veins when he moaned. I may not have been experienced atkissing, but I knew how to make a man wanton.

When I nibbled on Christophe’s bottom lip, he clamped hishands on both sides of my face, kissed me firmly, and then pulled away,inhaling in a huge breath of air. “Jesus, your mouth will be the death of me.”

I smiled and his eyes twinkled.

“No woman who can kiss like that is nothing. I will teachyou how very important you are, Alana. But first, we must eat!” He rubbed hisnose along mine right as the car pulled to a stop.

“You want to eat right now?” I asked breathlessly, still inhis lap, arousal coasting through my body in blissful waves I didn’t want toignore. Mostly because I hadn’t felt this way for a man…ever.

“I see you are hungry for more pleasure,” he stated openly,and my face instantly heated. “You are very responsive to my touch. This is goingto be good for our marriage, as I am eager to sample the pleasures of yourflesh as well. Though, marriages cannot be built on physical connection alone.”

I frowned, not understanding what was happening. Christophewas a cyclone of emotional highs and lows. One minute he was plying me full ofbeautiful accolades, the next kissing me, then changing the subject alltogether to something entirely unrelated.

The door of the vehicle opened, blasting us with dry LasVegas heat that blazed over every inch of my skin, making me instantly sweat. Idespised being sweaty. It reminded me too much of South Korea, and I neverwanted to go back there.

Christophe hauled us both out of the limo, cradling me in aprincess hold. I squealed when he stood up and looped my arms around his neck,holding tight so I wouldn’t fall.

He chuckled, then loosened his grip around my knees andallowed my feet to glide to the ground.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around and seeing nothingbut a sleepy, dark street. He put his hands to my shoulders then slowly turnedme until I faced the brick building with dark green awnings.

“My favorite restaurant. As I told you, I’m hungry and Iwant to share something I love with my new bride.”

He was so incredibly forthcoming in his responses. Thereseemed to be no nefarious undertones, no hidden meanings. What you saw was whatyou got with Christophe Toussaint. It was unsettling. No one was this honestand predictable. At least not the men in the circles I’d been running around in.

Christophe offered me his elbow and I couldn’t help butsmile at the sweet gesture. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get used to being treatedlike a respectable woman.

“Ready?” He held his free arm out toward the establishment.

“I am, thank you.” And I wasn’t lying. I didn’t think I’dever looked forward to sharing a meal with someone more. The only thing thatwould have made this evening better was if I’d known how Celine was faring withher husband.

Mine was turning out to be an enigma who thought I was special.No, he thought I washis muse.I didn’t know what that meant exactly,but I was smart. If Christophe thinking I was his muse would make him keep mefor the next five years, ensuring I’d receive the full payout owed to me, I’ddo whatever it took to be what he needed.

Chapter 5

WeddedBliss

Christophe held the door open so that I could enter therestaurant before him, keeping a gentle hand on my lower back.

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