Read Online The Frenchman (Crime Royalty Romance Book 1) by Lesley Young - Free Book Online
Authors: Lesley Young
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Join me for a drink,” he said in my right ear, his lips just grazing it, creating an erotic sensation. Join him for a drink? Wait, so he didn’t do the bimbettes ? Without supper? Maybe they’d still been appetizers.
“I’m here with someone,” I proudly informed him in the mirror.
Yeah, that’s right! I added silently with my face.
“I know,” he answered, deflating the effect I was going for.
So he had been watching me.
How long?
He did that whole silent conversation thing with his eyes. I wanted to shout, “I have no idea what you’re saying!”
“Leave him. Join me,” he ordered, finally, and I sucked in a bunch of stale club air. Who did he think he was?
But dammit if excitement didn’t instantly balloon in my chest as a bunch of thoughts sprang to mind. He is into me. Isn’t he? He had been watching me. Dancing with Bastien maybe. Changed his mind? Is he jealous? Maybe he’s just competitive. After all, he was an athlete and a dick. There was no getting around that.
He was watching my reflection think it over. His arms slid around my waist and he pressed himself into my body. I gasped, and my eyelids flapped wider than ever.
Is that . . .? I asked him in the mirror silently. His sly smile answered me.
Yes, that was his stiff cock prodding my back.
He squeezed himself hard into me, and my knees nearly buckled as I clasped the bar.
His gaze pinned mine in the mirror.
The feeling of powerlessness I experienced . . . how could it be so intoxicating? I was at his mercy in that moment. He leaned over me fully, shadowing my entire body. Pushing my hair to one side he whispered, “Does he make you feel like I do?” His warm lips touched my neck, and his tongue licked my sensitive skin. He left a wet mark, and the memory of the sensation of his expert tongue between my other lips rushed at me. It was too late. With my half-lidded eyes and soft moan, I’d answered him.
No. No one makes me feel like you, Louis .
I was starting to wonder if anyone ever could.
I closed my eyes tightly for a moment. “Have a drink with me, Fleur,” he said. When I opened my lids, he was a mask of determination. I really, really wanted to say yes. And he knew it. Somehow he knew.
Probably because he had this effect on women all of the time. It’s his superpower. Making women lusty, wet, confused, desperate for his cock. Marvel could do a whole naughty series about him. They could call him The Kneeler. Because I would’ve dropped down before him and begged.
He shifted slightly against me, and— breathe, Fleur —I swear an earthquake could have brought the walls down around me and I would still have been focused on how there were just two thin layers of material between me and his big gun, pressed into my lower back. His eyes met mine again. I knew that’s how he would stare at me when he entered me and eventually pulled the trigger.
Fleur!
I shook my head.
Enough was enough.
He was unpredictable.
Hot. Cold. Cold. On fire !
He was too unpredictable and rude and threatening to my perfect, simple, orderly world. I couldn’t control myself around him, never mind control him.
Plus, I’d been raised better than that: I would not ditch a date. I was wimpy, with a side of righteous and a dash of class. Just as I nudged my elbows back, and I will admit, regretfully, another body push in beside us.
“Fleur,” said Bastien, emphatic. I pushed back against the dark force behind me, and then asked him to move, silently, panicked in the mirror.
After a quick glance at me, and a menacing look at Bastien’s reflection, Louis stepped back.
I turned around quickly. Brows raised, I looked at Bastien, concerned he would make something of the large man from the elevator groping me.
But he wasn’t paying attention to me at all. Bastien, quite a bit shorter, was staring up at Louis, not the least bit intimidated. In fact, Bastien was wearing a smile. A distinctly smug smile. A shock blasted through me: They
“I’m here with someone,” I proudly informed him in the mirror.
Yeah, that’s right! I added silently with my face.
“I know,” he answered, deflating the effect I was going for.
So he had been watching me.
How long?
He did that whole silent conversation thing with his eyes. I wanted to shout, “I have no idea what you’re saying!”
“Leave him. Join me,” he ordered, finally, and I sucked in a bunch of stale club air. Who did he think he was?
But dammit if excitement didn’t instantly balloon in my chest as a bunch of thoughts sprang to mind. He is into me. Isn’t he? He had been watching me. Dancing with Bastien maybe. Changed his mind? Is he jealous? Maybe he’s just competitive. After all, he was an athlete and a dick. There was no getting around that.
He was watching my reflection think it over. His arms slid around my waist and he pressed himself into my body. I gasped, and my eyelids flapped wider than ever.
Is that . . .? I asked him in the mirror silently. His sly smile answered me.
Yes, that was his stiff cock prodding my back.
He squeezed himself hard into me, and my knees nearly buckled as I clasped the bar.
His gaze pinned mine in the mirror.
The feeling of powerlessness I experienced . . . how could it be so intoxicating? I was at his mercy in that moment. He leaned over me fully, shadowing my entire body. Pushing my hair to one side he whispered, “Does he make you feel like I do?” His warm lips touched my neck, and his tongue licked my sensitive skin. He left a wet mark, and the memory of the sensation of his expert tongue between my other lips rushed at me. It was too late. With my half-lidded eyes and soft moan, I’d answered him.
No. No one makes me feel like you, Louis .
I was starting to wonder if anyone ever could.
I closed my eyes tightly for a moment. “Have a drink with me, Fleur,” he said. When I opened my lids, he was a mask of determination. I really, really wanted to say yes. And he knew it. Somehow he knew.
Probably because he had this effect on women all of the time. It’s his superpower. Making women lusty, wet, confused, desperate for his cock. Marvel could do a whole naughty series about him. They could call him The Kneeler. Because I would’ve dropped down before him and begged.
He shifted slightly against me, and— breathe, Fleur —I swear an earthquake could have brought the walls down around me and I would still have been focused on how there were just two thin layers of material between me and his big gun, pressed into my lower back. His eyes met mine again. I knew that’s how he would stare at me when he entered me and eventually pulled the trigger.
Fleur!
I shook my head.
Enough was enough.
He was unpredictable.
Hot. Cold. Cold. On fire !
He was too unpredictable and rude and threatening to my perfect, simple, orderly world. I couldn’t control myself around him, never mind control him.
Plus, I’d been raised better than that: I would not ditch a date. I was wimpy, with a side of righteous and a dash of class. Just as I nudged my elbows back, and I will admit, regretfully, another body push in beside us.
“Fleur,” said Bastien, emphatic. I pushed back against the dark force behind me, and then asked him to move, silently, panicked in the mirror.
After a quick glance at me, and a menacing look at Bastien’s reflection, Louis stepped back.
I turned around quickly. Brows raised, I looked at Bastien, concerned he would make something of the large man from the elevator groping me.
But he wasn’t paying attention to me at all. Bastien, quite a bit shorter, was staring up at Louis, not the least bit intimidated. In fact, Bastien was wearing a smile. A distinctly smug smile. A shock blasted through me: They
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