“Showoff,” she teased.
“Just efficiency,ma chérie.There are better ways to spend my time.”
Cally turned away, letting him follow at his pace, and walked into his bedroom. The bed was a vision of luxury: white silken sheets beneath a black duvet, which she tugged off, letting it catch the air and fall, crumpled, to the floor.
He paused in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her, and the hunger in his eyes made her thighs ache with her own need.
She climbed onto the bed, each move slow and deliberate, giving him a show of what he could have—what hewouldhave. It wasn’t just his eyes that revealed his desire; there was tension in every muscle in his body, as if he was fighting to hold onto his control.
But he was still too far away.
She beckoned to him. “Come here.”
Antoine seemed almost hesitant, taking slow, measured steps into the room. His eyes roamed over her, flickering from pale blue to red before settling on lilac, otherworldly and almost ethereal. If that meant his control was slipping, all the better.
She thought he would join her, but instead, he stopped with his knees pressing against the side of the mattress. He raised a hand toward her, then let it fall.
“It is not too late for you to change your mind,” he said, voice thick with something deeper than mere caution.
“Far too late,” she murmured, as she crawled toward him.
He didn’t move, only watching her as his eyes shifted again, darkening from lilac to deep purple, and she wondered what he would do when they turned fully red. She felt a strange mixture of power and vulnerability—hiseyes held her in place, but she was the one driving this now.
Cally knelt on the edge of the bed, close enough for the warmth of his breath to brush across her damp skin. She reached out, resting her palm on his chest, over his heart. But he didn’t touch her, didn’t reach for her. His muscles tensed, coiled with control, as if he didn’t truly believe he had any right to touch her.
She slid her hand up over his collarbone and around his neck, inching closer to him, her breasts brushing against his chest, and the heat between them grew sharper. She wanted to kiss him, but the way they were positioned, his lips were just out of reach. Instead, she nuzzled against the underside of his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of his stubbled chin against her skin as she pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of his neck.
And then, on a whim, because it felt right, she bit—hard enough to make him hiss. He didn’t pull away.
“Ma chérie,”he breathed, his voice husky. “Mon amour.”
The change in his endearment sent a jolt through her, a reminder of how much was still unspoken between them. But she stayed pressed against him, her mouth soft against his skin, fingers curling around his neck, holding him to her as he shuddered.
She slid her other hand down his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his body until they reached where she knew he’d respond. Her touch was slow, deliberate, squeezing gently. She heard him catch his breath.
And finally, he touched her. His hands slid around her back, pulling her closer, as if encouraging her to bite harder, offering himself the way she had offered herself to him. But she didn’t want to bite harder, nor did she have any desire to draw blood. Instead, she licked softly at the imprint she’d left, and he shuddered again.
“I’ve marked you,” she whispered, though she knew the mark would fade in seconds. It didn’t matter. They both knew it was there, a symbol of something far deeper than merely a bite.
“You marked me when I first saw you,” he replied, voice soft but laden with meaning. “Even if I didn’t realize it.”
“You called me ‘mon amour’.”
“Oui. It means—”
“I know what it means.” She pulled his head down, lifting her chin to meet his lips. His fingers skimmed her cheek, sending another shiver through her as their lips met. His kiss was gentle, but she ached for something fiercer. She dug her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer. “No more hesitation,” she murmured against his lips.
He straightened, exhaling heavily. “You are right. I am sorry. It is just… it has been a very long time.”
“So long as you haven’t forgotten how.”
He chuckled, but this time there was something darker behind it. His hand slid down her back, and then, with a sharp slap to her ass, he pulled her closer. “I think I remember the basics, and I recall promising to make you pay. Over and over.”
She shivered, her breath catching. “You did say that, didn’t you?”
Barely had she said the words before he’d bent and grasped her thighs with both hands, lifting her effortlessly. He lowered her to her back, her legs parted as he settled between them, and his eyes were lilac again, the corners of his mouth curling.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, his gaze full of admiration and something more primal. “So passionate, so strong, so utterly fearless. I can’t help but want to taste you.”