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Authors: Letty James
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in the world. And here she was, with the most handsome man she’d ever encountered. She kissed his calluses, inhaling his intoxicating manly scent.
Gérard kissed her forehead, pushing her back against the couch. “I won’t stop, but let’s talk a little more.” He sat back down and swirled his fingers over her knees.
She didn’t want to talk. Couldn’t he understand? Nikki clutched a blue brocade pillow and ran her thumb over its silky tassels.
“Tim? This was your lover?” His hands stilled.
Nikki gave an inelegant snort. “Love? Ha! He didn’t love me. Used me, more like.”
“Lovers can be rather disappointing, can’t they?” His hands trailed down her calves with a delicious tickle. He picked up her foot, rested it on his thigh, and ran his thumb roughly down her instep.
“Oh, God!” Her head flopped back on the couch. What would she know about lovers? She’d only had one. Nikki gave a deep sigh. She wanted to learn more. Much more. “I bet you never disappoint anyone.”
He chuckled and she looked up into his eyes. The air pulsed between them. The pillow fell to the floor.
“We can never meet everyone’s expectations.” His finger lightly circled her ankle.
“You’re certainly exceeding mine.” Nikki closed her eyes and let her head fall back again as she took a long deep breath. Her chest expanded and she imagined herself floating in the air. Gérard’s touch, like magic, keeping her there.
He pulled on her big toe until it cracked, then soothed it with a gentle massage. “You’re easily impressed.”
“What do you mean?” Nikki bumped against a dark cloud, her insecurities spilling like rain. “I might not come from money, but I’m not some country bumpkin.” Which is exactly what she was with her almost-virginity, her almost-chic and her almost-French.
Tears welled up. Again. Damn. She flung off her glasses and covered her eyes, trying to hide from Gérard’s intense gaze.
His hands stopped. His lovely, warm, talented hands. Hands that almost made her forget everything.
“Nobody’s calling you a bumpkin. I know your family doesn’t come from money.”
“And if we did, I wouldn’t be so gullible. Is that what you’re saying?” Nikki struggled to sit up, but Gérard held her in a firm grip.
“I’m saying perhaps you make too many decisions based on money.”
“Of course. I don’t have any. What would you do? Would you work for you? Why did you hire me, anyway? For this?” Nikki wiped her eyes, curiosity overwhelming her. She didn’t care. Throw caution to the breeze, to the wind, whatever.
Gérard picked up her other foot, stroking her from calf to heel. He gave her a wry smile.
Her brain clicked on something so absurd she couldn’t believe it. But it all made sense. That’s what he was—one of those men who loved feet. After all, he hadn’t let her kiss him. He’d pushed her back on the sofa and concentrated on her feet. He would make love to her foot and demand she wear sexy high heels so he could get his jollies off. That’s why he had bought her those boots. Maybe, maybe if she let him fiddle with her feet, he would make love to her properly. Oh, dear Lord, she was so tired.
“I know your secret and it’s okay with me.”
His hands stopped. Again. She wiggled her toes, but he ignored them.
“What secret?” His voice held a hint of menace that pierced her alcohol-fogged brain. Maybe she shouldn’t talk about it.
“It’s okay. You’re safe with me.” She tried to reassure him and pat him on the hand, but she couldn’t quite reach and ended up patting the air like some dotty old woman.
Gérard stood up so abruptly the chair tumbled over behind him. Nikki squeaked in surprise and lay sprawled on the chaise, her robe tangled at her hips.
He leaned down, nose to nose. She gripped the slippery chintz in fear and complete, utter longing. Raw power emanated from him like an aphrodisiac, but she paused, biting her lip.
Something’s wrong
Gérard kissed her forehead, pushing her back against the couch. “I won’t stop, but let’s talk a little more.” He sat back down and swirled his fingers over her knees.
She didn’t want to talk. Couldn’t he understand? Nikki clutched a blue brocade pillow and ran her thumb over its silky tassels.
“Tim? This was your lover?” His hands stilled.
Nikki gave an inelegant snort. “Love? Ha! He didn’t love me. Used me, more like.”
“Lovers can be rather disappointing, can’t they?” His hands trailed down her calves with a delicious tickle. He picked up her foot, rested it on his thigh, and ran his thumb roughly down her instep.
“Oh, God!” Her head flopped back on the couch. What would she know about lovers? She’d only had one. Nikki gave a deep sigh. She wanted to learn more. Much more. “I bet you never disappoint anyone.”
He chuckled and she looked up into his eyes. The air pulsed between them. The pillow fell to the floor.
“We can never meet everyone’s expectations.” His finger lightly circled her ankle.
“You’re certainly exceeding mine.” Nikki closed her eyes and let her head fall back again as she took a long deep breath. Her chest expanded and she imagined herself floating in the air. Gérard’s touch, like magic, keeping her there.
He pulled on her big toe until it cracked, then soothed it with a gentle massage. “You’re easily impressed.”
“What do you mean?” Nikki bumped against a dark cloud, her insecurities spilling like rain. “I might not come from money, but I’m not some country bumpkin.” Which is exactly what she was with her almost-virginity, her almost-chic and her almost-French.
Tears welled up. Again. Damn. She flung off her glasses and covered her eyes, trying to hide from Gérard’s intense gaze.
His hands stopped. His lovely, warm, talented hands. Hands that almost made her forget everything.
“Nobody’s calling you a bumpkin. I know your family doesn’t come from money.”
“And if we did, I wouldn’t be so gullible. Is that what you’re saying?” Nikki struggled to sit up, but Gérard held her in a firm grip.
“I’m saying perhaps you make too many decisions based on money.”
“Of course. I don’t have any. What would you do? Would you work for you? Why did you hire me, anyway? For this?” Nikki wiped her eyes, curiosity overwhelming her. She didn’t care. Throw caution to the breeze, to the wind, whatever.
Gérard picked up her other foot, stroking her from calf to heel. He gave her a wry smile.
Her brain clicked on something so absurd she couldn’t believe it. But it all made sense. That’s what he was—one of those men who loved feet. After all, he hadn’t let her kiss him. He’d pushed her back on the sofa and concentrated on her feet. He would make love to her foot and demand she wear sexy high heels so he could get his jollies off. That’s why he had bought her those boots. Maybe, maybe if she let him fiddle with her feet, he would make love to her properly. Oh, dear Lord, she was so tired.
“I know your secret and it’s okay with me.”
His hands stopped. Again. She wiggled her toes, but he ignored them.
“What secret?” His voice held a hint of menace that pierced her alcohol-fogged brain. Maybe she shouldn’t talk about it.
“It’s okay. You’re safe with me.” She tried to reassure him and pat him on the hand, but she couldn’t quite reach and ended up patting the air like some dotty old woman.
Gérard stood up so abruptly the chair tumbled over behind him. Nikki squeaked in surprise and lay sprawled on the chaise, her robe tangled at her hips.
He leaned down, nose to nose. She gripped the slippery chintz in fear and complete, utter longing. Raw power emanated from him like an aphrodisiac, but she paused, biting her lip.
Something’s wrong
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