Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

“You don’t need him, but you definitely want him.”

I fought the urge to cover myself with my hands. Instead I pulled my shoulders back, shook my hair out of my face, and stood as tall and proud as I could.

He slipped his gaze over my breasts. “Je te veux tellement.”

My nipples grew stiffer. “What did you say?”

He walked over and stopped right in front of me. “Trente jours peuvent ne pas suffire.”

All I understood was that he’d said thirty days.

He raised his hands to my face and brushed my cheek with his fingers. “Did you ever think you would be here?”

“No.”

“I didn’t want anyone else to have you. They were all listening to you and waiting around like vultures ready to eat. Shalimar did a good job of blocking them.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I didn’t want that for you.”

Leaning in closer, he teased my mouth, leaving his lips so close to mine. I trembled under his attention.

“Et maintenant je suis ici avec toi.” He brushed his bottom lip against mine and then he devoured me. He drank me in. My mouth was his. My thoughts were too. And his lips were as full and soft as I imagined. And I was lost in the feel and taste of them. Their memory would be forever imprinted on my tongue. Frozen in time.

His other hand possessively held me against his waist as he pulled me closer. His rock hard body was pressed tight to mine. I could feel him under that smooth fabric. Every curve. Every muscle.

The kiss was hot. Steaming and blazing. My lips warmed with him. My body begged for more. My heart. My mind. They’d both turned to mush. Had he kissed me days before, he would’ve received a serious discount. I might’ve even drawn up a coupon.

Damn. This is more like the boyfriend experience.

And still Jean-Pierre had more to give, never letting me up to breathe. He deepened the kiss, and I drowned in him.

Fuck.

My heart boomed in my chest. Getting on the tips of my toes, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, unable to help myself.

Grunting, he twirled his tongue around mine.

Goddamn. This feels so good.

I ran my fingers through his hair. Those silk strands smoothed against my skin. Every part of him was a delight to my senses. His scent. His voice. His taste. I couldn’t get enough of him.

And then someone knocked at the door.

The kiss ended. Groaning, Jean-Pierre pulled away. A man screamed from the other side of the door.

What was that?

A slam came next. I jumped.

Jean-Pierre didn’t appear disturbed by the noise at all as he gazed at me. “I have something to take care of. I’ll be right back.”

I could barely breathe. The rapid pace of my heart slowed. My hands trembled at his neck and there was no way to hide it. I pulled away from him and cold air filled the space. “Okay.”

The man screamed again.

Holy shit. What’s going on?

And then the person knocked again.

He scowled at the door and moved away from me. “I’ll talk to you again. My butler Stanley will show you around.”

“Okay.”

“Put on your dress. I don’t want anyone else to see you.”

“Of course.” I walked over to pick my bra up.

“No. That stays with me.”

O-kay.

“But, take your time. They’ll wait.”

Thankfully, no more screams came.

Jean-Pierre stalked my way as I focused on putting on the dress. When it came time for the zipper, he took over and slowly closed the dress.

And then Jean-Pierre looked at the door. “Entrer.”

Three huge men barreled in, dragging a beaten guy with them.

I looked away, remembering Shalimar’s advice. The last thing I wanted to do was be a witness to anything.

Additionally, this was a sour wake-up call to who I was drooling over. Although Jean-Pierre was gorgeous and turned me on, this was business. He was not a man that could give me more. He was le Boucher, and nothing about that said safe and loving.

Who’s the man? Is he someone’s father or husband? Or. . .don’t think about this. It isn’t your business.

“Donne moi une minute,” Jean-Pierre told his men and then guided me out of his office. “Eden, I’ll show you to Stanley.”

“Uh. . .” I hurried out of there. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“No…” His gaze slipped over me. “I want to spend some more time with you.”

The man screamed from another room. I had no idea what they were doing to him, but they’d definitely done enough.

I trembled.

In that moment—he must’ve noticed my fear—smelled it somehow.

He backed away. “You’re scared?”

I shook my head, because I was too terrified to say anything else.

Someone closed the door in the hallway, shutting away the man’s torture.

“You’re protected,” he whispered. “And I’ll never hurt you.”

I nodded, but how could I know for sure?

Shalimar said he didn’t break the rules and he stayed true to promises. I believe I can trust her about him.