Page 90 of Prelude To You

Her green eyes flickered up to mine. “C’est à toi de nettoyer, mon coeur…All yours to lick clean, my love.”

She had to speak French.

When she was satisfied that she had my undivided attention, she sculpted herself into me, offering her mouth. I swept her up in my arms, and the kiss tasted of Laurent-Perrier Grand Siècle, white truffles and Isabel.

I cupped her face and forced her to look at me. “Are you sure? Because if we start this there’s no stopping it.”

Her hand trailed down and caressed my groin, her breath quickening, her body writhing against mine. She whispered breathlessly in my ear. “Roman, I want you to fuck me like the world ends tonight.”

And then she hooked the bottle of Laurent-Perrier Grand Siècle in one hand and walked toward the king-sized bed, beckoning with a finger. “Come. Let’s rid you of that bespoke attire of yours.”

I grabbed the two champagne glasses and followed her to the bedroom. On the way, I pushed the button to close the wall again. Creating our own private world for the night.

Inside the bedroom, the light was soft, the view outside a spectacular backdrop of twinkling city lights and the North Atlantic, deceptively calm in the dark.

Isabel leaned against the wall, hands behind her back, waiting patiently.

The two champagne glasses and the small leather pouch found a home on the bedstand, beside the bottle of champagne. Isabel lifted the leather pouch. “He came prepared,” she said, eyebrows arching with curiosity.

I started to unbutton my shirt, but she gently brushed my hand away. “I want to do that, please.” Leaving me to stand there watching this delicious creature as she inspected the leather pouch more intently.

And as much as I wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her until we both reached nirvana, Isabel was going to do this first. I took the time to pour us champagne.

“The man who looks after me handed it to me before I came up to the penthouse,” I explained.

She slipped a small sleeve of lubricant from the pouch. “Lubricant…really?” she said to precisely no one. Next, it was acondom in its slick black sleeve. “Wait, don’t tell me. Bespoke condoms.”

I bit a smile. “How did you guess?”

The pouch went back to its place on the nightstand, and Isabel turned to me. I handed her a glass and clinked mine to hers. “Here’s to you, my sweet,” I said.

“And here’s to you,mon coeur,” she breathed.

And Christ if she didn’t lift a glass of champagne and gulp it down with stray drops leaking from her mouth and fizzing down her breasts. I scraped her close, and slowly slowly licked her clean, which left her writhing against me, her cheeks flushed and her breathing shallow.

With restraint far beyond my grasp she started unbuttoning my shirt, every movement graceful and delicate. And as she glanced into my eyes she bit her lower lip, her self-control on the precipice of slipping. As was mine.

My hands found their way to her perky breasts with their pebbled rose-pink nipples, there for the taking. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with them. Flick my tongue over each, gently drawing them into my mouth and sucking them until that tendril of heat at the base of her spine traveled down and settled between her thighs.

Not that I doubted for a second that the luminous nymph wasn’t already wet and anticipating my touch. But while she was undressing me I just let my hands wander, finding pleasure in the little shivers traveling up and down her back.

“So this man who looks after you,” she said, her breathing clipped. “How did he know you were here?”

“He always knows where I am.”

When my fingers moved inside her panties to trace the warm, wet slit between her thighs, she almost buckled. “Don’t do that,” she begged in that raspy voice of hers. “Let me do this first.”

All I could do was comply. Whatever she was getting out of undressing me was important to her. And who was I, a mere mortal, to deny Isabel anything.

“Do you remember last night in the bookshop?” I asked her, more to distract myself than start a conversation about my trivial thoughts.

She swallowed, her lips parting as her fingers tumbled to the next button. “I do. Every moment.”

“Do you know what I was hoping for?”

Her eyes glinted, the phantom of a smile tugging at her lips. “No, please tell me.”

“I wished that you would be as dull as dishwater. No, I wasn’t wishing, I was praying. And I’m not a praying man.”

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