He looked up to see the petite figure of a little girl walking carefully down the stone steps toward him — one step at a time. She was dressed in a bright yellow summer dress, billowing out from her hips and reaching just below her knees. A single, printed blue flower on her chest added a colorful touch, and her hair was pinned back with a collection of decorative floral pins.
At her heels followed two large Beaucerons, their pink tongues lolling from the side of their mouths in the heat. She came to a stop next to his vehicle. Alain leaned forward, tilting his head to look at her from under the Maserati’s low roofline.
“You’re Alain,” she said with remarkable assertiveness for her age.
“Correct. And you must be Mia.” He smiled, wondering where this was going.
“And you’re visiting us?” she asked keenly.
“Yes, I am. Your mother invited me for dinner.”
“Oh, yes, now I remember.”
Alain waited patiently for her next prompt. She knitted a little frown, suddenly considering something important.
“I’ll control the dogs. They can bite, you know.” Her head bobbed to stress the importance of the situation.
“Thank you. We definitely don’t want that to happen.” The Beaucerons were watching, lying panting and uninterested in the heat.
“I’ll show you,” she announced with enthusiasm and turned to the two dogs. One hand on her hip, assuming the position of a strict schoolteacher, she raised a little index finger in the air.
“Sit, Romeo, sit!” she exclaimed in a commanding voice, bending forward at the hips to emphasize the command. Romeo sat up obediently and tilted his giant head sideways, waiting for her next command. With equal success, she repeated the same instruction to the bitch, Juliet. She turned to Alain, her head raised high with the satisfaction of her accomplishment. “See, they listen to me.”
“I’m impressed,” he nodded approvingly. “Is it safe to get out of the car now?”
Several affirmative nods assured his safety. Alain removed a wooden crate of rosé wine from the trunk and turned to see Rachel waiting at the front door, smiling down at them. The late sun touched her hair and the spaghetti strap dress caressed her figure with a sensual promise.
“You’ve been watching us,” Alain complained, climbing the steps. “Left me hanging in the wind out there.” He kissed her cheek and willed himself not to nip her ear. At the brief touch of his lips against her skin, he took in the sensual aroma of perfume.
“You did just fine.”
Rachel turned, and Alain followed her to the back garden where Arianne was watching over Iain frolicking in the swimming pool. They moved to the arrangement of comfortable, pillowed deck chairs in the shade of the covered porch and sat down.
Iain noticed Alain and, suddenly losing all interest in swimming, he ran up to Alain, wet and shivering from spending the afternoon in the pool.
“Did you bring the Arati?” he asked wide-eyed, his teeth clattering uncontrollably.
Alain grabbed a dry towel and pulled the shivering body closer. Drying him vigorously, he replied, “Yeah, I brought the ‘Arati.’” He looked up at Rachel and shrugged, surrendering to the fact that his powerful vehicle had been renamed forever.
“Time for a warm bath … Mia, Iain — ” and with that Arianne coaxed the two unwilling bodies toward the house, their complaints and protestations echoing loudly as they made their way to a hot bath.
“You have two beautiful kids, Rachel.”
“Thanks. They can be a handful at times. I don’t know how I would have managed without Arianne.”
He scratched Romeo behind the ear. “The dogs came with you from London?”
She laughed. “No, they pretty much come with the house. They belong to Luke and Tina.”
Alain sat back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
“They’ve been so good to me, especially after Stuart left … ” Her voice trailed off.
“You did a great job on the renovation,” Alain changed the topic comfortably. For his tact, Rachel awarded him a quick smile.
“Thanks. Eugene would agree with you — I used it as one of my references in our proposal for the chateau renovation.”
Rachel stood and extended her hand in invitation to Alain. “Come, let’s get inside. I’m going to tuck the kids in before I make our meal. Hope you like salmon.”
“I’ll cook,” Alain said with confidence.
She stared at him skeptically. “I’m waiting for the punch line … ”
“You go see to Mia and Iain … Go on, then. Don’t you trust me in the kitchen?” With a playful pat on her derriere, he shooed her off in the direction of the kids.
Alain stepped into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of cold Chablis, took a slow, appreciative sip, and made a quick study of the layout — spice racks, utensil drawers, shelves for the heavy copper pots and pans.
All well laid out.
He opened the fridge and removed fresh salmon, dill, a bunch of thick, yellow asparagus, and a crisp green salad. Tapping his finger on the open door, he pondered the content of the fridge, and then added some plum tomatoes, a chunk of Parmesan cheese and an avocado to his stash. Lastly, he lit the two large candles on the marble-topped kitchen island.
• • •
When Rachel returned to the kitchen, Alain was busy adding salt to the wild rice simmering in a deep, copper-bottomed pot. “Your wine.” He passed her a glass of the cold Chablis and pointed to the stool at the kitchen island. “Sit,” he invited. “You’re to do nothing but enjoy the meal tonight.”
“This is a first for me.” She laughed and took a seat.
“No man has ever cooked for you?” Alain asked in mock surprise.
“No, not unless I paid for it — ” Then, at the mischievous grin on his face, she added quickly, “Like in a restaurant.”
“Oh, don’t be mistaken — you will pay for this meal tonight.”
A soft, warm glow came to her cheeks and she returned his smile over the rim of her glass.
“Kids asleep?”
“Hmmm … ”
Rachel lowered her head to her chest and massaged the back of her neck, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere in the kitchen and the ease with which Alain was preparing their meal.
He stepped toward her and, moving her hand, gently squeezed the stubborn muscles at the base of her neck. His hands were warm and strong, and the gentle pressure he exerted slowly relaxed the tension in her neck and back.
“They’re working you too hard over at the chateau, aren’t they?”
“They’re absolute monsters. I will have to bump my fees soon.”
The bubbling rice called for attention, and Alain returned to the stove to focus on the task of cooking. She watched with interest as he went about in the kitchen, his designer blue jeans a perfect fit over his narrow hips and the strength of his muscled thighs. He had rolled the sleeves of his white cotton shirt to his elbows, and the taut rope of muscles in his forearms danced in the candlelight. Her eyes came to rest on the tapered shape of his back while he poached the asparagus and prepared the salad with ease and practiced skill.
“Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.
“Mostly self-taught,” and then as an afterthought, he added, “ … and Italy, of course.”
“Please tell,” she encouraged, sensing a good story.
“Italy, 1997,” he started, his voice imitating an old man sharing a forgotten tale. “The mighty Giovanni family — devastated.”
Rachel shifted in her chair, excited and preparing herself for a good story.
“‘Our dear daughter, Claudina, will never get herself a good husband — her cooking is so very, very bad. Maybe we should try the cooking school in Tuscany.’”
Alain turned to her, leaning his right hip against the stove, arms crossed. “I saw her at the town market one morning, buying fresh produce for her cooking class. I desperately wanted to meet her.” His eyes glinted with naughtiness. “So, I enrolled at the same cooking school, hoping to dazzle her with my French accent.” A light shrug of his broad shoulders. “After wasting six weeks in cooking school, I eventually had to give up — she was of the good Catholic type.”
She nodded, strangely relieved at how the story ended.
“But you learned something from that, did you not?” Rachel indicated the meal he was preparing on the stove.
“Yes. If you don’t succeed after two weeks, walk away.”
She grabbed a dishtowel and tossed it at him.
“You’re impossible.”
Alain tasted a drop of olive oil on his finger before he poured it over the salad in a large wooden bowl. Then he tossed the fresh tomatoes, avocado, and greens.
“Rice is about ready,” he announced after checking the texture of the grain. “How do you like your salmon?” Then he leaned over and touched his lips gently to the skin of her neck, just below her ear. A soft ripple of pleasure ran down her spine, and she tilted her head, exposing the delicate skin of her neck to his lips.
“Suddenly I don’t feel like cooking anymore.”
“Then I’ll just have to stop tempting the chef,” she replied and pulled away reluctantly.
Alain returned his attention to preparing their meal. Soon he had the salmon cooked to perfection, and they sat down to enjoy his efforts.
“Mmmm,” Rachel exclaimed at the first bite. “Very, very tasty, Mr. Léon. You’re a man of many hidden talents.”
• • •
Alain nodded with a smile, but the taste of the meal was wasted on him. For him, the evening held a delectable promise for satisfying a different type of hunger.
“Dessert?” Rachel asked when they had finished their meal, and when Alain declined with a silent shake of his head, she added in a low voice over her shoulder as she stepped to the fridge, “Fresh strawberries and cream — sure you don’t want any?”
The lingering promise in her voice made Alain think twice about her offer. She placed the bowl of fruit and thick cream on the table and slowly lifted her gaze to Alain. The soft candlelight danced inviting shadows on the honey-brown of her skin.
“No?” she asked again, dipping a juicy strawberry into thick clotted cream and offered it to him. His chest tightened, and Alain leaned forward for Rachel to place the aromatic fruit in his mouth. Then Alain picked a bright red strawberry from the bowl and dipped it slowly into the cream. Rachel closed her eyes and Alain offered her the delicious fruit. She parted her lips and slowly licked the soft white cream from her mouth. Alain watched, mesmerized, unconsciously holding his breath.
She opened her eyes slowly, and Alain read the warm promise in the glowing amber flashes. He reached to lay his hand gently on her cheek and touched his lips tenderly to her mouth. Then he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes in desire at her smell.
“So, what do I owe you for the meal tonight?”
He nibbled softly on her earlobe in answer. “Oh, I have something special in mind.”
“Tell me,” she demanded in a husky voice, closing her eyes.
He pulled her closer and parted her lips with his tongue. She responded willingly, his tongue darting around in her mouth.
With one swift movement, Alain swooped his arms under Rachel and picked her up, their lips still locked. Rachel gasped as he lifted her and flung her arm around his neck.
“Where?” He could muster only the single word, his voice suddenly hoarse.
She pointed toward a door, and he carried her to the main bedroom where he lowered her slowly onto the bed. He paused briefly while she fumbled in the dark with the lamp on the nightstand. A click and then a soft glow filled the room.
Her wet lips glistened invitingly in the soft light, and he dropped his hand to slowly lower the strap of her dress from her shoulder. She looked up into his eyes, and he saw the embers glow brighter, deep in her eyes. She lifted her shoulder and the other strap slipped off, revealing the soft, white skin of her breasts. Slowly he traced the sensuous contour of her breast with his tongue.
“Take me in your mouth,” she whispered, and he responded with eagerness, sucking on her hardened nipple. He craved for the touch of her nakedness against his skin, wanting nothing between their bodies, and raised his arms above his head. She reached up with one easy tug she removed his shirt.
He lifted Rachel’s torso, and, as he slipped her dress from under her, she started ripping at the buttons of his jeans. They fell in a tangle of naked limbs on the bed, heaving at the closeness of their bodies.
• • •
The shock of their sudden nakedness rushed through Rachel’s veins. Alain leaned forward and touched her lower ribcage with his mouth, blowing softly on her skin. She shuddered at the pleasure thrills running down her spine, hot like fire. With a wicked sense of knowing, he ran the tip of his tongue slowly down her quivering belly, drawing a long, soft moan from her.
Then, a fierce desire to please Alain came over Rachel. She sat up and pulled his head back to her face, whispering, “Wait, I want to please you.”
Pushing her hands against his muscular chest, she forced him back onto the bed to lie on top of him. With wicked patience, she ran the tip of her tongue down his heaving chest, her naked body sliding down on his. His erection strained mightily, and she paused, gently teasing him with her hardened breasts. Alain groaned softly, lying spread-eagled on the bed, his eyes wide, fixed into space.
Rachel slithered down lower onto his hard, flat stomach, plucking gently with her lips on the thin line of dark, curly hair that ran invitingly from his navel. She wet her lips and touched his arousal — barely, then blew soft, warm air onto it.
Alain groaned aloud and his hard, jagged breathing stuttered and stopped. His body stalled — quivering, straining as if against some powerful, unseen force. Desire flamed bright in his dark eyes, yet Rachel waited a moment longer. Then, unexpectedly, she took his full erection deep into her mouth.
With a mighty heave, Alain’s breath exploded from his lungs. His pelvis thrust upward forcefully.
“Enough!” he shuddered and grabbed a handful of Rachel’s hair. She looked up and smiled at him, shaking her head slowly from side to side. This was her turn to please him. She wanted it this way.
With one smooth movement, Alain grabbed her and spun her around, pinning her helplessly underneath him. Rachel shrieked and laughed with joy. The strong weight of Alain’s hard body sunk down onto her as he pushed her back against the luxurious goose-down pillows.
“Protection,” she whispered with a mischievous smile on her lips. Alain leaned over Rachel, his chest delicious and heavy on her, while he fished a foil-wrapped condom from his jeans on the floor. Fascinated, her eyes transfixed on his hands, Rachel watched as Alain unrolled the condom over him.
“Slowly,” she whispered when he turned to her, and he gently nipped her neck, burying his face in her hair. She searched for his hand and placed it gently on her breast, squeezing softly. Alain inhaled sharply and lowered his head to her breast, his warm mouth sucking, nibbling on her swollen nipple.
Rachel ran her hand down his back, and as he moved above her, she traced the ripples of hard muscle that crisscrossed his back. The firm smoothness of his skin came alive under her touch, and deliberately, she raked her nails slowly down his back, enjoying the accomplishment of her action. Her hand came to rest on his tight, round buttocks and she pushed down on the smooth firmness. He arched his body majestically above her, threw his head back, and split her open with his thighs. His massive arousal was hot and hard against her skin.
Oh, I want him — right now, inside me.
Rachel looked up at Alain, deep lust drifting like smoke over his eyes. She hooked her limbs around his narrow hips, drawing him closer to her, into her — teasing him, laughing.
In a swift movement, Alain gripped her wrists in one powerful hand, pinning them above her head on the pillow, leaving her exposed and vulnerable under him. She reveled at the controlled power of his grip, lying defenseless on her back, watching his dark, smoldering eyes. He lowered slowly to take a ripe, swollen nipple in his mouth, and with his other arm reaching under her back, arched her body upwards to him.
Rachel tightened her legs on Alain’s manly body as he ground his pelvis against her, his arousal big, hard, and urgent. She tilted her hips slightly, wanting him in her.
Teasingly, carefully, mindfully, he touched her with his hard arousal. Then, gently, he entered her wetness, shallow at first. His body froze in space when Rachel gasped sharply at his initial entry, her body tensed like steel wire at the unfamiliarity of accommodating him.
It had been a while.
They both waited. Quivering.
She held her breath, waiting for her body to relax, to accept his hot, delicious shaft. The muscles in Alain’s powerful back rippled under her hand and his breathing came in ragged rasps as he hovered above her, allowing her the time to take him deeper into her.
Rachel’s body began to relax, safe in the knowledge that he was waiting for the first, slow thrust of pelvis to come from her. Carefully, testing, she thrust her pelvis upwards, letting him drive deeper into her wet warmth. And then Alain began to move in slow, grinding circles, matching her.
Rachel’s body tingled with anticipation, and she thrust upward to meet Alain, slowly at first, and then with more urgency, their rhythm building, becoming deeper and harder, their bodies locked in unison. Her breathing became rushed with a warm, deep desire spilling over her, blanking her mind from everything but the need for Alain to thrust inside her, deeper.
The world began to spin, slowly at first, then wilder and faster, and she thrashed her head from side to side, willing their bodies together as they gyrated in locked passion. Her vision blurred, and she could smell the muskiness of their lust grow stronger, and then, suddenly, the need to be closer to him was so overpowering that she smashed and ground herself against Alain’s hard pubic bone with an almost frantic urgency.
Incredibly, a forgotten, hidden sensation of pleasure, dormant for years, slowly ascended from deep inside her, lifting her, driving her body to spasm powerfully into a long, beautiful arch. Sensation tore from her body like hot, molten lava.
Rachel’s deep inhalation burst from her lungs in an explosive gasp, and she cried out loudly at the peak, vaguely aware of the deep, roaring bellow escaping from Alain’s chest.
His upper body shuddered with his own exploding orgasm, and he let go of her wrists, throwing his head back and lifting his powerful upper torso high, the muscles in his neck straining like oiled steel cords. Wet hair was plastered in dark curls on his forehead, and his heaving chest glistened a deep, shiny gold, like an ancient god in the soft light.
As Alain opened his eyes, she tilted her head and watched with fascination as the focus slowly returned to his dark pupils. He gingerly lowered himself onto his elbows, taking most of his weight onto his shoulders and upper arms, and brushed a long wisp of hair from her face. A thin line of perspiration trickled down her neck, and he ran his tongue over it gently.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his deep voice a soft rumble against her ear.
She smiled at him and laid her hand on his cheek.
• • •
Slowly, gently, Rachel became aware of the soft, early morning light of the rising sun and the welcome sound of mourning doves in the willow tree at the window. Her senses woke, and she opened her eyes lazily. A magnificent, bronze arm drifted slowly into focus.
With a slight start, she opened her eyes wider.
Alain.
He was on his side, naked, his head resting lightly on a supporting hand under his ear. A slight, dark shadow lined his strong jaw line. He reached out with his free hand and touched her tenderly on the cheek.
“Morning,” he said softly, as if not to disturb her.
Rachel smiled and laid her hand on his, enjoying the warmth on her face.
“Hi,” she whispered shyly.
His dark eyes probed hers, deep and intense.
“What?” she asked and cleared her throat, suddenly thirsty.
Alain turned to face her squarely, his mouth set in a serious line.
“What?” she repeated.
“I’ve never said this to a woman. I don’t think I knew what it felt like before.” She watched while Alain gathered his thoughts once more. “Rachel, I really love you — more than I ever knew possible.”
Rachel closed her eyes to the warm tears of joy welling up.
Once again, Provence had been good to her.