Page 43 of The Artist
I let go of her chin, not liking the undertone of sadness in her voice. “Belle, one more thing, don’t believe that guy who told you that you’re bad at sex, you’re not!”
Her eyebrows drew together as she turned her face away. “You can’t know that.”
Brushing away a strand of her hair, I smiled a little. “I could prove it to you.”
Her eyes locked with mine in a flash. “How?”
The warning signs flaring in the back of my mind were easily pushed aside when I lifted her higher on my body and cupped her gorgeous face. “What if we had sex and never told anyone?”
“I can keep a secret,” she assured me.
Brushing my hands through her soft locks, I felt my hands shake. The intimacy of being half-naked with Belle was already blowing my mind. If she was serious about having sex with me that would make this the best day of my life. “You know I can’t marry you,” I whispered.
“I know. I can’t marry you either.”
“Okay.” My heart was racing so fast it made my voice breathy.
“Okay,” she replied and kept looking deep into my eyes.
“Tell me how it works again. You French women are put on some kind of pregnancy prevention, right?”
“Yes. Until we decide we’ll do our duty and carry a child.”
“So, it’s safe for us to be together?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “If you’re sure you really want to.”
A half-choked sound came from me. “How can you even ask that question? I would be fuckinghonoredto be with you.”
Belle smiled, but then she bit her lip. “The thing is, though…”
“Yes?”
“My limbs feel like they’re made of lead and I’m drained of energy. I don’t think I would be much fun tonight. Maybe we could wait until tomorrow?”
I swallowed hard, disappointment tasting bitter in my throat. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you, Mason.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine, catching me by surprise. “You’re so sweet.”
No one had ever called me sweet unless they were provoking me to a fight. Yet hearing it from Belle didn’t offend me at all. While I struggled to get my brain to work, Belle slid down from my body and lay next to me. Taking my arm to reach around her, she asked, “Will you spoon me again?”
My cock was stone hard and as I held her from behind, I closed my eyes, unable to do anything about my poking her butt.
For a long moment we lay in silence. Her scent was in my nose making my desire for her unbearable. She smelled of feminine shampoo and fresh air.
“Maybe you could turn off the light,” she asked.
“Yeah.”
When the room fell into darkness once again, I returned to spoon her, hoping that she would fall asleep fast so I might visit the bathroom and take care of my predicament.
“Is this uncomfortable for you?” she whispered
“A little.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?”
