Chapter 7

Second Date

“Alana! The food is getting cold, cheri !” Christophe called from the other room.

I’d taken my time showering and dressing in jeans and a sweater. I grabbed socks and a pair of tennis shoes along with my sandals and brought them into the living space. Christophe was pulling metal dome coverings off of a series of dishes that were displayed on the large dining table that could seat eight.

He was beaming with energy this morning as he shimmied around the table assessing the options. “Look at all of this! So many wonderful choices, non ? Grab your plate and load up. We have a long, exciting day ahead of us!”

“Really?” I set my shoes on the floor near the wall so they’d be out of the way. I’d ask him which would be more appropriate after we ate.

Christophe handed me a warm ceramic plate. I hadn’t the slightest clue how it was kept hot. Then again, a lot of things about high society—especially hotel dining—were foreign to me.

I watched as my husband eagerly plopped two pancakes in the center of his plate. Then he added sausage links, a few slices of bacon, a biscuit, and a scoop of scrambled eggs but skipped the fruit, yogurt, and granola completely. “Americans!” he exclaimed with awe. “They really know how to do breakfast.”

I giggled, enjoying seeing his delight with everything set before him. He had been the same at dinner. Each new thing presented to him was an opportunity, not a hardship. I hoped I too could learn to take things as they came instead of analyzing and worrying about the potential downside. Life had trained me to be leery of anything pleasant. There was always a dark side. Christophe, however, seemed determined to live in the light. Maybe some of that would rub off on me during our time together.

Christophe pulled out a chair for me and nodded as his mouth was full of bacon, the edge of one crispy piece sticking halfway out.

“You couldn’t even wait to sit down before stuffing your face!” I laughed, then promptly snapped my mouth shut, worried I’d spoken out of turn. My palms became clammy as I chanced a glance at him.

He shook his head in a silly manner, the piece moving with him as he put on a show. I couldn’t help but laugh even harder. The nervousness of my outburst dissipated instantly at his playful demeanor.

Christophe bit down on the bacon and held the remaining bit between two fingers. “I couldn’t wait. It smelled so good!”

“You love food,” I surmised as I added one pancake, a small scoop of eggs, two slices of bacon, and two sausage links before also plopping a couple strawberries, a little quartet of grapes, and a dollop of yogurt all onto my plate.

“Guilty.” He grinned and shoved the remaining half into his mouth, groaning in pleasure, his eyes closed. “Bacon is food from the gods.”

“If you say so,” I responded but sat down and just took him in. He was so incredibly handsome, smiling like a loon, eating heartily, and living in the moment. I wanted to be like that. It seemed…freeing.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, both of us sating our initial hunger.

“After we eat, we need to head to the roof,” he announced, pointing a finger toward the ceiling.

“The roof?” I asked, wrapping my mouth around a strawberry and licking the piece before biting into it.

Christophe’s gaze heated, his eyes focused intently on my mouth. For some reason, God only knew why, I held the strawberry there and flicked my tongue against the juicy top, feasting on every bit of the tender fruit.

“ Alana ,” he purred low in his throat, sounding almost pained. “You make me wish I were a piece of fruit. That mouth… putain! ” Fuck!

I held the top of the berry and made a show of licking my lips. “It’s delicious. Want a taste?”

“ Oui ,” he whispered.

I grabbed the extra one I had on my plate and extended my hand with the berry dangling between two fingers.

Instead of taking the fruit, he encircled my wrist and tugged me until I had to hoist myself up, my body hovering over the table, face closer to his. He leaned forward and took my mouth in an intensely wet and sultry meeting of lips. He tasted me in place of the fruit, moaning as he flicked his talented tongue inside. I dropped the strawberry, cupped his cheeks, and gave him all that I could, our tongues dancing back and forth.

Pleasure rippled through my chest, making my heart beat double time and arousal ooze along my nerve endings. He nipped my bottom lip and I whimpered, feeling that bite between my thighs as a physical ache. I retaliated by sucking on his tongue the way I’d learned made him wild.

His free hand threaded through the back of my hair where he curled his fingers into the roots and fisted, keeping me in place. On a groan, he tore his mouth from mine, inhaling air in sharp bursts. “I’m trying my best to be a gentleman, mon coeur , but just know I want to touch, smell, taste, and feel every ounce of you. Pleasure you until you’re begging me to stop. That is how badly I want you.”

I swallowed slowly and stared into his mossy gaze, letting out a little tortured huff as my body betrayed my mind, wanting everything he just said he did, and maybe even more. Though my brain was at war with my traitorous body, knowing that it was important to build a connection without physicality mucking it up, especially since what we both ultimately desired was a long and happy five years of marriage.

His lips twitched before he smirked. “I see this idea does not deter you in the slightest.” His nostrils flared, desire evident in his expression as I shook my head, my lady bits ready to take charge and tell my mind to shut up.

Christophe loosened his hold on my hair and let me go. “Soon we will take that intimate step. Maybe after date five,” he said, then picked up his fork and stabbed a sausage link.

I couldn’t speak, my body too filled with lust to function properly, still imagining him touching and tasting every inch of me.

“Have you been to the Grand Canyon?” he asked randomly, breaking me out of my lusty haze.

“No. I haven’t been anywhere in the States besides New York City and now Las Vegas.”

He grinned. “Excellent. We are going to have a new adventure together.”

* * * *

The helicopter met us on the roof of the hotel we were staying in. I’d never been in a helicopter, so I was eager to try something new. Once we lifted off, the pilot narrated everything down below.

“And that right there is Lake Mead,” the pilot explained as he curved to the right, giving us an unbelievable view of the sparkling blue water.

“It’s magnificent,” I said, tracing the outline of it with the tip of my finger on the small window.

Christophe pressed fully to my side, his body touching mine from hip to knee as he leaned over and looked through my window. “Do you swim?”

“I haven’t in years, but I did back in Korea when I was little.”

“We have a heated indoor pool at our home in Paris, but I will take you to the French Riviera. Show you Cannes, St. Tropez, and Bandol. The water is as blue as this, but the shores are very rocky. We’ll need to protect your tiny feet.” He winked.

“They aren’t that small,” I retorted.

“ Cheri , I have seen them bare. They are not even the size of my hand with my fingers stretched out.” He held his hand up in a star shape, palm flat.

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe it’s not that I have tiny feet but that you have enormous ones,” I challenged.

Christophe laughed. “ Touche !”

“And here we have the Hoover Dam, named after our 31st President Herbert Hoover back in 1935. It used to be the largest dam but has since been surpassed by others. Still to this day it is considered a marvel of engineering excellence. That body of water butting up against it is the Colorado River, but you’ll be seeing that up close and personal,” the pilot announced.

“We are?” I tapped Christophe on the thigh.

He took my hand and held it against his leg. “Surprise number two.” He grinned.

I bit down on my bottom lip and held back the squeal of excitement that fought to come out, preferring to squeeze his hand instead and stare out at the landscape below.

The helicopter kept on, leaving the dam and lake behind us. I gasped when the Grand Canyon came into view. And then was shocked to my core when the pilot dipped down and flew into the canyon.

“Oh my God!” I gripped Christophe’s hand with both of mine and held it locked between my breasts, the fear of crashing making me hyperventilate.

“Breathe, cheri . We are perfectly safe. This is part of the tour. We fly into the canyon and land there. Please relax and enjoy the views.” Christophe lifted his chin toward the window.

I clung to his arm and wedged myself so close to his body that a piece of paper would not have fit between us as I glanced out at the view.

The canyon was massive, making us seem like tiny specks in the grand scheme of life. Slowly, my heart rate calmed and my nerves eased while my eyes ate up the ethereal view. I couldn’t imagine seeing anything more beautiful.

“The Grand Canyon averages ten miles across and a mile deep along the entire 277-mile length. You can see millions of years of geological history in the red rock and its banding,” the pilot noted. “We’ll be landing on the west side where you will take a pontoon boat down the river.”

I danced a bit in my seat, unable to keep my excitement under control. “We’re taking a boat ride inside The Grand Canyon! I can’t believe it,” I gushed. “ Merci, my husband .”

“I’ll take you everywhere you want to go, Alana, just to see your face filled with such wonder. Even the view can’t compare to your beauty.” He brought our clasped hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

I flushed at his praise and leaned more heavily against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. A sigh of contentment slipped from my lips as I took in God’s creation. “It’s magical,” I murmured.

“We’re about to land. See those other helicopters?”

We both looked out the window and saw three of them parked in a neat line along an embankment near the river.

Once we landed and got out, Christophe and I took pictures of the view, with a camera he pulled out of the backpack he’d brought. The pilot good-naturedly stood next to his helicopter because I asked if we could have one with him in front of it. I wanted to capture these memories and was looking forward to reliving them later and showing Celine all that we’d experienced.

The pilot took several pictures with me snuggled to Christophe with my arms wrapped around his waist. The two of us with our arms spread wide as if we were reaching out and touching the rocky walls of the canyon. We even took a silly kissing picture with the view behind us.

After we poked around the canyon floor a bit, we were called to load the pontoon boat. Quickly, I picked up a smooth rock and then a rough, jagged one I’d spotted and put it into my small purse for safe keeping. I liked to gather a keepsake from everywhere I went. I had a rock from a small pond back where I was born in Korea. Another from the land around the orphanage. An interesting piece of washed-up coral from the shore in New York, and now a couple pieces of the Grand Canyon. One piece I’d give to Christophe later so he could keep his own collection if he desired.

We got on the boat and then floated down the Colorado River in the middle of the Grand Canyon. I held on to the side of the vessel and soaked it all in. Christophe huddled close, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist so there was no possibility of me slipping over the side and into the river, even though we were both in life vests. I leaned back against his chest and together we enjoyed one of the world’s natural wonders. I noted Christophe hand off his camera to one of the boat staff and heard the clicking of pictures being taken. Good. I wanted to have this memory for later. Being cuddled up with my husband as we did something most people would never get to do.

The ride was short, only about fifteen to twenty minutes, before we exited and got back into another helicopter with a new pilot.

The pilot narrated more facts about the canyon, the one most interesting being that native indigenous people of the Hualapai tribe owned over a million acres of land including 106 miles of the canyon. The tribe invited tourists to explore their sacred land, sharing its beauty with the rest of the world.

When he finished telling us the history, we landed at Grand Canyon West which had the Skywalk at Eagle Point. It was a U-shaped glass bridge touted as offering the best view of the canyon. Since Christophe had booked a private VIP tour, we were able to skip all lines and go straight onto the glass walkway.

I gripped my husband’s hand with my left and the railing with my right as I inched slowly out. We’d had to wear booties over our shoes to protect the glass. It felt like I was gliding along with the breeze, much like a bird would soar and surf the wind.

I was terrified and filled with exhilaration as the wind teased my hair, making it fly in every direction.

“The skybridge is 4,000 feet in the air and over 70 feet above the ledge of the canyon,” a guide boasted. “But don’t worry. It’s engineered to hold over two million pounds of weight,” he chuckled.

“Just think, mon coeur , we are standing over a crevice in the earth that has existed for millions of years and will continue to exist for a million more once humans cease to exist. We are nothing but a blip in the wheel of time.”

“Definitely puts life into a different perspective,” I agreed.

“It means we must enjoy as much as we can before it is over. We know not what comes next. I choose not to waste a moment when I can live each day to the fullest.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, caging me against the railing where he rested his chin in the crook of my neck. “I will paint this view for you, and we can hang it in our home as a reminder of this day and how it brought us together. Would you like that?”

“Absolutely.” I leaned back against his warmth, allowing him to block the wind on each side of me while the desert sun warmed our faces. “I would like to see anything you create.”

“I have a gallery in Paris, of course. Though our home is littered with pieces of my soul.”

“Our home?” I reiterated, astonished by how much I adored the idea of having a real home.

“ Oui . I am anxious to take you to France, to share my culture and its history. If you love this, you will adore the French countryside. But first, let us finish our tour.” He placed a sweet kiss to the bare skin of my neck and nuzzled me there until I giggled freely. “Come, come. There is more to see.”

Christophe took my hand and together we continued the tour, walking through Eagle Point’s authentic Native American Hualapai village. We learned how their people made houses and how they honored their heritage and traditional methods. Something I could relate to.

We finished the tour by climbing pyramid-shaped red rocks that overlooked almost a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of the canyon. Christophe helped me navigate the steeper parts and larger boulders, sometimes pulling me with his mighty strength or pushing me up with a hand on my behind. Those times he’d crack a joke about copping a feel of my ass and how he was a lucky French bastard.

The end of our day brought us back into the helicopter where we saw the sunset coast over the horizon, the sky turning marvelous shades of red, orange, pink, and purple. I reached for Christophe’s hand, brought it to my mouth, turned over his palm, and kissed the center, breathing him in. He smelled of sunshine, rich earth, and a heady musk that was him alone.

My husband looked at me with such compassion and care, his very soul open for the taking. He was as beautiful as the canyon for me, only more so.

“ Cheri …”

He said the word like a prayer.

I was determined to try and give back, to let my iron walls down a little. I looked him directly in the eye and told him how I felt.

“Christophe, husband ,” I started, enjoying how he smiled wide at that last part. I think Christophe liked it when I called him by that title. “Today has rivaled only one day as being the very best of my life.”

“What was the first?” he asked, instantly curious to learn more about me.

“Yesterday. The day you made me your wife. The day I became Alana Toussaint.” As I spoke, his eyes fired with the light of a million stars in the sky. “You keep saying you’re lucky, but that’s not true. I’m the fortunate one. Blessed. Because it was you, Christophe, who chose me. I’ll never be able to return such gratitude, but every day of our lives together I will try to show you my appreciation.”

“I will take your thanks graciously, Alana, but that is not what I want,” he added gently.

“What do you want? I will give you whatever I can.” He deserved nothing less after what he’d committed to and all that he’d already shown me.

He cupped my cheek, tracing my jawline with his thumb.

“I want your heart. I want your love.” His expression was serene, while I was a tumble of tumultuous emotions riding a tsunami wave, barely clinging to the surface where the air was plentiful.

I inhaled sharply as his true intention became clear.

“I-I…I don’t know what to say,” I stated lamely, tears filling my eyes.

“Don’t say anything at all. One day, I will earn your heart and your love. That will be the best day of my life.”