Butterfly Bayou (Butterfly Bayou 1)

“Trust me.” Every word out of his mouth was a silky seduction.

She did. At least in this she did. She could trust him with her body. Her heart? She wasn’t sure about that, but she abandoned the thought for the evening. This was what she’d needed all day.

“How long has it been for you?” He whispered the question as the song changed. The sultry sounds of jazz formed a soundtrack of pure seduction.

“A long time. Over a year.”

He chuckled and she was surprised how intimate the moment was. Not because his fingers were teasing under her panties, but that she could feel him laugh, the sound rumbling over her sensitized skin. “I’ve got you beat. It’s been two years for me. Two years and a few days, so I’m going to make you come for me a couple of times before I get my turn. I’m not sure how long I’ll last. I want you so much and I’m out of practice.”

She didn’t understand. Yes, his daughter had needed him, but he could have found a lover. He was beautiful and it wouldn’t have been hard to find a partner, even one who would accept nothing more than quick sex from him. “Why? The women of this town obviously adore you.”

“I didn’t want them. I’m too old for meaningless sex. I need more. I don’t want a woman who follows me. I want a woman who kicks my ass when I need it, one who can be a partner in every sense of the word. I want her to stand by me, but I want to stand by her, too.”

“I can’t tonight.” She couldn’t think about the future. She definitely didn’t want to think about the past.

“No pressure. Well, maybe a little pressure.” His finger found her clitoris and pressed down, sending sparks through her. “I know what you’re thinking. You think we can go back to where we were in the morning. Go back to our corners, but I’m done fighting. You win. I won’t even stop you the next time you speed like a race car driver.”

“I wouldn’t have been speeding if it hadn’t been for that alligator. It’s not . . .” She’d been ready to point out that it wasn’t normal for an alligator to sit in the middle of the road, but his finger made a circle around her clit and she suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll let you fly around this town, and everyone will know how sweet I am on you. They’ll be afraid of you because the sheriff won’t do a damn thing to stop his lady from doing anything she likes. Tu tiens mon coeur entre tes mains.”

She could barely stay on her feet. And those words sounded entirely sexy, and she didn’t understand them at all. She could speak a little Spanish, but she was pretty sure she knew what language he was whispering in. “You speak French?”

The words came out on a gasp because her whole body was melting under his clever hands. She could feel the orgasm building and they weren’t even naked yet.

“My mom-mom didn’t speak a lick of English. She was pure Cajun. She used to live out on the islands. Disappointed her family when she moved to the big city, and yes, they meant Papillon. If I wanted to talk to that old woman, I had to learn her language.” He’d found a perfect rhythm. “J’ai besoin d’apprendre ton langue.”

She leaned back against him, letting him control her body and her balance. “Armand . . . Armie . . .”

“That’s right,” he cajoled. “Let it go. Let me take you away.”

He pressed down and she went flying over the edge. The world fell away and there was only him, the feel of him, his masculine scent. He filled her senses, surrounded her entirely.

For the first time she could remember, she utterly surrendered.chapter nineArmie held her up, still rubbing that sweet button of hers. His dick was dying, but he wasn’t going to give in. He wanted her to understand that there was no going back in the morning. He’d meant what he said.

She held his heart in her hand. Maybe it was far too soon to think that way, but he didn’t care. Today had proven to him that she was it. Full stop. No moving on from this one. She was the one he’d waited for all his life, the woman who could handle him. Lila wouldn’t wither when times got tough. She wouldn’t beg him to find a safer job. He might have to beg her to play it safe from time to time.

And he meant the other thing he’d said to her in French. He would learn her language. It was different for a woman like her. He couldn’t win her over with presents or taking her out. She would need something more to teach her how serious he was. She would need patience. She would need to be able to poke and prod at him without losing him. She’d been hurt and she would need time to trust him.