I stretched languorously across the bed, rolling my spine up so that my breasts rounded and presented themselves to him. His face tightened with desire as I got up and slowly sauntered over to him, my hips swaying like a pendulum, hypnotizing him. When I finally reached him, his eyes were dark as midnight and still trained down my body, taking in the heavy slopes of my breast, swollen even more with the pregnancy, and the faint tilt of my belly as it arrowed into my bare sex. I was sure that it was the swell of my belly that turned him on the most. The caveman.
I reached out to wrap my fingers around the base of his once more hard cock and gave it a firm tug. He shuddered and ground his back teeth together. With my other hand, I cupped the underside of my breast, weighing it in my palm before flicking my hard nipple with my thumb.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “You are trying to make me loose my mind.”
I grinned slyly. “Is it working?”
“Desolé, did you say something?”
My laugh was breathy. “Come shower with me.”
“We really do have somewhere to be.” He caught my wrist as I moved it over his dick. “It’s important, Elle.”
I paused because there was an urgency in his voice and he wouldn’t turn down sex for just anything.
“Okay… We’ll make it quick.” I launched myself at him, forcing him to catch me as he stumbled back into the bathroom.
“Elle…”
“Quit stalling, we have places to be, Frenchman. On y va!”
He laughed as he placed us both under the hot stream of water and he was still laughing against my lips when I took him inside me again.
Later, after we finally emerged from the shower skin wrinkled and satiated, I followed Sinclair into the back of a town car with no idea of our destination. I watched him as we drove, how his jaw clenched and unclenched rhythmically and his eyes tracked the blurred landscape flowing out the car window. He held my hand stiffly but whenever he noticed he was doing so, he made a conscious effort to relax his fingers and throw me a small, inauthentic smile.
For whatever reason, my Frenchman was nervous.
I bit my lip, wanting badly to pester him about it but also deeply intrigued by his uncharacteristic bout of anxiety. This was the man who handled multi-national land deals, who had faced the scrutiny of New York City society without a tremor and survived a childhood in a poor French orphanage.
Sinclair nervous?
I was both giddy and terrified of what that could mean.
When Puerto Los Cabos appeared through the windows and we came to a stop at the familiar marina, I was even more shocked.
“Sinclair?” I asked as we exited the car, somewhat nervous myself.
He took my hand and smiled down at me, a real smile this time but the nerves remained in his eyes. “My siren.”
“We’re going fishing?”
“Not this time.”
I cocked my head in question but he only responded by smiling tightly before he lead us forward down the dock. Instead of going to the left, where all the fishing boats bumped quietly against the wooden partitions, we went right. Huge yachts and sailboats gleamed on either side of us as we walked down the planks. I readjusted my grip on my beach bag and wondered why Sin had asked me to bring a nice change of clothes and my makeup.
“Sin?”
“Oui, mon amour?”
“Why are you being weird? You are making me nervous.”
He stopped, turning to me with his thick brows raised in surprise. I almost laughed because the expression was so foreign on his face.
“I am acting weird?” he echoed, staring over my shoulder for a moment as if looking through memories of the last half an hour to test the validity of my statement. Finally, he looked back at me, threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I am. My apologies, my mind was in a different place.”
I stared at him suspiciously but he seemed genuine enough so my mouth dropped into a pout. “I’m not enough to hold your attention?”
His eyes sparkled so brightly that I blinked against the shine. He took me into his arms in a bear hug and lifted me into the air, laughing. “You are always and, sometimes inconveniently, on my mind.”
I grinned down into his face, placing my palm on the creases his smile made in his cheek. My love for him spilled out of my overfull heart and into my chest, pressing against my lungs almost painfully. I couldn’t breath but I didn’t really care.
“My love for you is greater than the world,” I told him, in English this time.
“Toujours,” he said.
Always.
I smiled, at ease again, as I slipped to the ground and took his hand again, moving forward. He stilled me and when I turned around with a frown, he gestured to a gorgeous yacht just over his shoulder.