“My mind is all over the place.” That was the truth. She hoped he didn’t question her any further. She wasn’t going to admit her body was on fire. She willed him to go to sleep. Didn’t men just turn over and go to sleep?
He shifted back, just his torso, keeping his hips and groin firmly pressed against her backside. His knee remained between her thighs. She should have been happy when he took his hand from her breast, but she wasn’t. She found having him cup the weight of her in his hand was sexy. It didn’t matter that her body was on fire just lying next to him. The feeling of her nipple pressed tightly into the center of his palm added to the flames burning between her legs, and she craved that feeling.
His hands went to her shoulders and he began a slow massage. His fingers were strong, digging into the knots of tension in her neck and shoulders. “Relax, Brielle, and just go back to sleep. Everything is going to be all right.”
His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in to whisper to her. When he leaned close, his cock, hard and erect between the cheeks of her buttocks, jerked and pulsed. It was all she could do not to groan. His girth felt enormous, as if he was stretching the tender skin between her cheeks. She tried not to imagine what it would be like to have him inside her, stretching the walls of her sheath. The craving for him grew in spite of her determination to separate fantasy from reality. Because right at this moment, reality was feeling dangerously close to her greatest fantasy.
“Listen to the sound of the lake, the way the waves hit the shore.” Once more his voice seemed to come out of the night. “It’s really soothing. Can you hear it?”
Brielle made an effort to hear past the thunder of blood in her ears. She pushed air through her lungs and made her body relax as she listened for the sounds he had pointed out to her. The lake. She knew his home was on a lake; he’d told her so as they drove into the large garage. He’d promised to show her the house and grounds in the morning. She was just too tired to take everything in. She knew he had boats and piers and docks and other things she knew little about, but that he said she would enjoy.
The sounds of the waves lapping at the shore were soothing. Rushing forward and receding. A rhythm that was peaceful there in the dark. She concentrated on that sound and the amazing feeling he produced with the unexpected massage. The strength in his fingers kneading the hard knots in her neck and pursuing the ones in her shoulders and down her spine began to help her relax.
Elie wasn’t anything like she expected him to be and that only made things worse. It really bothered her that he believed no one could want or love him and that even his parents hadn’t. She did want him; that was the trouble. Elie Archambault was fearless. She was a coward. She didn’t mind a stranger finding out every dark, humiliating secret she had. She didn’t mind a stranger cheating on her. A stranger couldn’t rip out her heart. Or destroy her. She hadn’t built her dreams around a stranger. She’d built them around Elie Archambault. It wasn’t his fault—it was hers.
Eventually, the heat from Elie’s body, the strength in his fingers easing the tension out of her and the rhythmic waves lulled her back to sleep. When she awoke, the sun was up and Elie was gone from the bed. She was still surrounded by him. His masculine scent was everywhere. On the charcoal-gray sheets and pillows. On the dark chocolate comforter that was folded at the end of the bed.
Brielle sat up and took a good look around the room. It was a man’s room, although the potential was there to be something extraordinary for both of them—if he allowed her to change anything. Directly across from the bed was a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. Above her head, the beams appeared to be very solid and hand-hewn from reclaimed wood. The ceiling was white between the rustic beams.
The floor was hardwood and a bank of windows that stretched nearly from the ceiling to the floor took up one entire wall. The windows looked out over a forest of trees in the distance. Two swivel chairs sat at the end of the bed facing the fireplace, both gray in color. There was a short gray dresser on one side of the fireplace with a screen on top of it. On the other side of the fireplace was another dresser with a long deep box on top of it. Otherwise, the very large, spacious room appeared to be empty.
Brielle went to her knees in the bed and inspected the room much more closely, paying attention to the windows and walls. He had nothing on the walls, not even a painting, with the exception of her answers to the sexual questions asked of her by the program for their arranged marriage. Her answers had been laminated and were hung on the wall above the headboard of the bed. His answers had been laminated and were there as well.
She crawled up to the wrought iron headboard to take a closer look at the two multipage documents collated and attached together by a set of rings. Hers were red rings. His were black rings. The rings were attached to the wall. He’d said they were in a frame, and they were, although they could be easily removed to look through. Just seeing what he’d underlined in red made her blush. Hopefully, no one came into their bedroom. Ever. She slid her hands along the ornate headboard and stilled when she realized what she was running into. The twisted spokes of the headboard held several different types of cuffs.
Gasping, Brielle pulled her hands away and turned her attention to the same ornate footboard. Several types of cuffs were on the spokes there as well. She found herself blushing and just like that her body had gone damp. Hopping off the bed as though it had burned her, she backed away from it. Every time she thought she was safe from thinking about Elie and sex, she found herself totally consumed by the thought.
It had been their wedding night. Elie had been as hard as a rock. No man had that hard of an erection without wanting sex. She’d been exhausted. That had to mean he would be eager to consummate their marriage at any time. That thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. The terror only added to the thrill. Everything about Elie Archambault had always garnered intense emotions in her.
She abandoned scouting out the room and made her way to the master bath. She remembered it being very spacious from the evening before. Her wedding dress was no longer on the floor. She didn’t remember picking it up. She wasn’t a neat freak, but she was someone who kept a clean house and didn’t expect others to wait on her or pick up after her.
Elie’s scent lingered in the master bath, where he’d clearly showered earlier. There was no escaping him. She stepped into the large shower stall, designed for two people. She was able to figure out the silver faucets and all the jets positioned for a much taller person. Her favorite shower gel, shampoo and conditioner were there.
Brielle’s heart gave an odd little twist in her chest. Elie must have put away her things while she slept. Had he put everything away? A hot blush seared her cheeks at the thought of Elie unpacking her suitcases and discovering the things she’d brought with her. She should have checked the closet and drawers before she stepped under the water. She hurried to finish showering and washing her hair, and had barely dried off before wrapping her hair in a towel and rushing back into the master bedroom.
The large walk-in closet held her dresses and skirts, all hung neatly on one side. Elie’s suits and shirts hung on the other side. The closet could fit two rooms of her apartment easily inside it. She resisted touching Elie’s shirts, but couldn’t help the little flutter of excitement at the sight of his clothes hanging in such close proximity to hers.
Her shoes and boots were on a rack, not that she had very many pairs. She didn’t spend her money on shoes. She had a pair for work, a pair for riding shadows and her cute boots for going out. That was pretty much the extent of her shoe collection. She approached the drawers in the dresser with slow steps. She couldn’t say the same about her lingerie. If there was one place she spent too much money, it would be there.
She stood in front of the dresser and opened the top drawer slowly. Sure enough, her lacy boy shorts were stacked neatly. The lavender cachets were even placed neatly inside the drawer with them. She peeled the pale blue silky ones from the top and pulled them up her legs and over her hips. Her blue jeans were in the third drawer down. She chose one of the oldest pairs because they were soft and molded to her figure immediately.
The carved wooden box on top of the dresser was intriguing, and after donning a lacy bra, she flipped open the box and just stood there staring at the contents. A gasp escaped and she stepped back, even as a flood of damp heat sent her into another dangerous spin of need. Her toys. She had brought several with her, choosing to be daring, determined that she would start her new life with confidence as a sexual partner to an adventurous man.
The blush spread over her entire body. There were more toys in the wooden chest than she’d purchased. She wasn’t certain what a couple were or even how they were used. Lying right on top of the numerous toys was a note written in a neat, masculine scrawl. She took it out to read it.
Mon petit jouet très sale, you will no longer play alone with these toys. Until we are playing together and I am calling you mon petit jouet très sale, and give you permission, you will not touch them. I will decide when you may use them.
He was calling her “my dirty little sex toy.” The blush deepened all over her body. She thrust the note back into the box and slammed the lid down. Why in the world did she go hot all over at the thought of him calling her his dirty little sex toy in person? Or directing her to use one of the toys while he watched? Or him using one of them on her? She wanted him to talk dirty to her. She needed him to. It was a craving she would never get over. She really was in trouble once he found out how responsive she was just at the thought of him commanding her.
The worst of it was, she didn’t just want kinky sex with him. That wouldn’t be enough for her. She knew that. She knew she’d be in trouble right away. She already was. That was why the things her sister said about him had hurt so much. Hastily pulling out a very feminine pale peach fitted blouse with tiny pearl buttons, she quickly donned her pair of boots and made her way out of the bedroom to explore the house and get herself a cup of coffee.
The house was enormous. Not that she could get lost. Maybe if she went upstairs, but not downstairs. It was just that the ceilings were high and impressive with those rough-hewn beams. The craftsmanship was stunning.
The great room was gorgeous, combining elegant with rustic, modern with historic. She was coming to see how Elie would appreciate the combination of the hardwood floors, extraordinary high ceilings with the antique European chandeliers and the beautiful windows, which maximized not only the light but the views. The stone fireplace was regal and definitely a focal point.
Comfortable couches faced each other in front of the fireplace with an oval, polished wooden, glass-topped coffee table between them. A full bar was to the left of the fireplace, the cabinets behind it and above it filled with liquor bottles and all kinds of bar glasses. A white-and-gray rug covered the hardwood floor between the two couches, delineating the space.
Her favorite part of the room was a cozy conversation seating area comprised of four dove-gray chairs set in a circle with a small round table in the center just in front of three of the great room’s five large windows. The chairs sat on the hardwood floor rather than the rug. Two smaller windows above the five large ones provided even more light.