The Boss (Chateau 3)

“That’s hard to do…when I’m the reason she’s here.”

“She’s the one who decided to be responsible for you. Never should have taken on the role if she couldn’t handle every aspect of it.”

My eyes started to water again. “I knew she moved to Paris to get away from me. So, I kinda forced my visit…just to be spiteful. It hurts that she moved to another continent just to be rid of me. I meant to confront her about it, but I never did.” He was now my confidant, my friend, the man who held my hands and listened to me cry. He was the only person who accepted me as I was…the exact opposite of Raven.

His hands continued to cradle mine, keep them warm next to the fire.

“If I hadn’t been a brat, she would still be in Paris, drinking her coffee and going to school. But like always, I came in like a fucking hurricane and destroyed everything.” Being trapped in this camp gave me time to self-reflect in a way I never had before. It forced me to look inward, to pick myself apart and acknowledge all my flaws, my mistakes.

“I like hurricanes.”

My eyes left the fire, and I slowly turned to look at him, to see his face so close to mine that his gentle breaths spread across my skin. Instead of pitch-black darkness of space, his eyes were warm like coffee, the fire highlighting the little flecks of gold in his gaze.

“Tornadoes, earthquakes…I like them all. And I can handle them.” He came a little closer then purposely looked down at my lips. Like they were my eyes, he gazed at them with the same intensity. His hand left mine then gently grazed my cheek before sliding into my hair, pulling it back from my face so he could see all of me, take in the watery eyes, the blotchy cheeks, my ugliness. His eyes lifted to mine. “Let me handle you.”

My mind was empty of consciousness, and I felt like part of the elements. I felt like the fire, the air, the snow on the ground outside. There was a contentment to my heart that felt so comfortable, a peace that was stronger than an entire bottle of wine. My hand rose automatically, and with my fingertips outstretched, I inched closer to him, like I was feeling for something in the dark. My palm flattened against his strong chest, hitting a slab of concrete that had been sitting in the summer sun all afternoon. A rush gave me a nanosecond of vertigo because so much was channeled into my body at once. Lust, desire, raw and unbridled attraction. But there was more. Safety, security, peace, trust, friendship. How could I trust this man when he was the reason I was there? How could I have complete faith in his word when he broke the law? How could I feel…this?

Now, his eyes were dark again, the restraints in his gaze tightening as he resisted. His breathing sped up, his breath blanketing my face more often, his chest rising and falling at a quicker rate. But he continued to give me all the power, the final say in the matter. A no, while it would make him flush with disappointment, would also make him depart.

My hand slid up his chest to his shoulder, feeling the mountains of muscle there, the hot skin. My fingers slid down his arm, over the individual hills, valleys, and the rivers of his veins. My hand followed one vein in particular, tracing it all the way to the hand that was sunk into my hair.

His stare was unmoving like the mountains, as if time had paused and everything was frozen. Then he pulled me toward him slightly as he moved the rest of the way and planted his mouth directly on mine, his kiss warm like the one he pressed to my neck, gentle and soft, a direct contradiction to his hard nature.

He was a big man, monstrous, with callused fingertips, short hair, and intense eyes, but he knew exactly how to touch a woman like she was a teacup in a china set. He allowed our lips to greet each other with soft tugs and caresses, his eyes open and on mine, watching my reaction to the burn between our mouths.

My fingers returned to his arm and then his shoulder, touching the strongest man I’d ever felt. He was thick like a tree trunk, but powerful like a wild bear that sometimes approached the camp in search of food.

His kiss deepened, his hand fisting my hair, giving me a breath that expanded my lungs. His head turned left to right, taking my mouth at different angles, giving me purposeful kisses that he’d practiced in his mind as he’d sat across from me in that armchair. When his tongue met mine, it started off gentle too, getting to know my mouth little by little, his breathing increasing the more acquainted we became.