Chapter 193
Chapter 193
Elena
I closed my eyes, trying to think of what to wish for. Jakarta, obviously—clean routines, solid scores, Olympic qualification. But when I opened my mouth, what came out was: "I hope Jakarta goes well. And I want to stay with you. Always."
His hand froze halfway to lighting the last candle. When I looked at him his expression was stunned, almost pained.
"You're not supposed to say it out loud," he said, voice rough. "That's not how wishes work."
"How else are you supposed to know I want to stay with you?" I countered, and watched something in his face crack open.
He set down the matches very carefully. "I know," he said quietly. "I know now. And I promise—I'll make sure that wish comes true. Both of them."
The certainty in his voice made me believe him.
"Come here," I said, gesturing to the chair beside mine. He sat, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. I cut a piece of cake with my finger, scooping up frosting, and held it out to him. "Try it. Vanilla—your favorite."
He caught my wrist gently, and instead of taking the cake he leaned forward and licked it from my finger, slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. The wet heat of his tongue against my skin sent electricity racing up my arm, and I felt my core clench in response.
Before I could second-guess myself I leaned in and kissed him, tasting vanilla and something darker. He made a low sound and pulled me closer, one hand cupping the back of my head as he deepened the kiss. This time there was less hesitation, more confidence, and I felt myself melting into him.
When we finally broke apart I was halfway in his lap, his hands on my waist, thumbs tracing circles through the silk. I could feel his heart racing against my chest, and beneath me, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing against my thigh.
"Elena," he said, my name half warning, half prayer.
I didn't let him finish. I kissed him again, harder this time, deliberately shifting my hips so I could feel him more fully. He groaned into my mouth, hands tightening on my waist, and I felt a rush of power at being able to affect him like this.
His control cracked. One moment he was holding back, and the next his hands were in my hair and he was kissing me like he'd been starving for it, tongue sweeping into my mouth with a thoroughness that made me dizzy. I could feel the tremor in his hands, could sense how close he was to losing it completely, and some reckless part of me wanted to push him over that edge.
One of his hands slid from my waist to my hip, then lower, cupping my ass through the silk dress and pulling me harder against him. I gasped at the friction, at the way his fingers dug into my flesh with just the right amount of pressure.
"Inside," he managed between kisses, voice wrecked. "Elena, we need to go inside. The wind—"
He was right—the evening breeze had picked up, making the candles gutter. But I didn't want to move, didn't want to break the spell.
"Carry me," I said against his mouth. "Hold me with one hand and kiss me and don't stop."
He pulled back just far enough to look at me, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. Then he stood in one fluid motion, one arm banded around my waist while I wrapped my legs around him. I could feel him hard against me through our clothes, and the knowledge that he wanted me this badly made me bold.
He kissed me as he carried me toward the house—broken, desperate presses of lips between steps. I wasn't satisfied with those shallow kisses. I caught his lower lip between my teeth and tugged. He shuddered, nearly stumbled, and when he kissed me again it was harder, more demanding, his tongue claiming my mouth with an intensity that made heat pool between my legs.
I could feel myself getting wet, the silk of my underwear dampening, and from the way his breathing had gone ragged I knew he could sense my arousal too—that sweet scent that always seemed to drive him to distraction.
He kicked the door shut just as thunder cracked overhead. Through the windows I could see lightning illuminating the vineyard, and then the rain came—not gentle but a deluge, as if the sky had been holding its breath all day.
Étienne carried me to the bedroom and set me down in the velvet chair by the window, then moved behind me, arms coming around to bracket me in. I could feel him hard against my back, and I shifted deliberately, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured against my ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "I'm here."
"I'm not scared," I said, and it was true. "I'm never scared when you're here."
His arms tightened, and I felt him press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of my neck, tongue tracing the tendon there before he sucked gently. I arched back against him with a soft moan, and his hand came up to cup my breast through the silk, thumb finding my nipple and circling it until it hardened.
"Our Elena is still so young," he said softly, but his hand didn't stop its maddening movement. "There's so much you don't understand yet."
I twisted in his embrace to look at him, frustrated by his restraint. "Why can't it just be that I really like you? I'm twenty-one, Étienne. Not a child."
He was quiet for a long moment, emotions flickering across his face too quickly to name. His hand was still on my breast, and I could feel my nipple hard against his palm through the thin fabric.