Chapter 9

His Goddess

I woke to my hair being played with while my cheek was pressed to Christophe’s heated bare chest. Sleeping with another person wasn’t familiar to me. Waking with my entire body pressed to a man who was attractive and technically my husband was mind-melting.

Christophe’s fingers ran through the full length of my hair from root to end. He had a methodical, gentle, and mesmerizing touch. I sighed against his chest, allowing his warmth to seep into my veins.

“ Bonjour, wife .” His voice was a throaty, sexy purr.

I swallowed and nudged my face up to see his pretty eyes on me. He continued touching my hair lightly.

“Your hair is the softest thing I have ever felt. So beautiful .”

“ Merci . How are you this morning, husband?” I asked.

He smiled, and my heart pounded happily. I could get used to waking up like this.

“I am wonderful. I slept well. My wife is sprawled across me and looking at me with serenity in her gaze. What could be better?”

I chuckled. “Perhaps coffee?”

He scrunched up his nose, wrapped his arm around my waist, and tugged me fully on top of his body so that I was straddling him.

“Coffee is not better than my stunning wife. I imagine very few things could ever be, cheri . I’m afraid I adore you so completely that nothing compares.” He nuzzled my neck and pushed my hair fully to the side where he placed a mouthy, slightly wet kiss.

I sighed and finally relaxed against him. I was feeling bolder and shockingly a little turned on. If I nudged myself down just a bit, I was certain I would come into contact with another delectable part of my husband. A part I was starting to crave . This was a surprising yet exciting response indeed. But I’d promised myself after what I shared with him last night and after all that we’d experienced together on our first and second dates that I’d give him a chance, including giving him the benefit of any doubts I’d brought into our relationship. He deserved a chance to prove he was the type of man he claimed to be.

Good. Kind. Decent. Passionate. Driven. Loving.

So far, he’d been all of those things, but people could change with a snap of their fingers. I’d be conservatively cautious but more willing to let him in emotionally and physically.

I lifted up so I could hover my top half above him while I stared into his sleepy morning gaze.

His smiling face was so incredibly handsome. It was hard to believe a man like this wanted a woman like me.

“Thank you for last night. And for our wedding. For being kind and giving me time to adjust to all of these changes. The care you’re taking with me and our marriage means a great deal.”

He lifted his arm and curled a hand around my nape. “You are worth it. Besides, I’m having a wonderful time with you. Regardless of the walls you’ve built, I’m starting to see through the cracks. And I like what I see, Alana.” He used his thumb to tilt my chin. “You’re not only great company, with a beauty that steals my breath, but you have a gentle approach that moves me. When you touch something, including me, you do so with intention. I love that about you.”

I could feel my stupid cheeks getting hot under his praise. To avoid it, I pushed forward and took his mouth in a searing kiss. He groaned and wrapped his free arm around my back, holding me close. We kissed passionately and rolled from side to side on the big bed. First, I was on top, then he was. For a while, all we did was kiss. Well, mostly. I sure took every opportunity possible to run my eager hands down his strong, muscular back, allowing my palms to become familiar with the landscape.

My husband was massive compared to my slight form, but I never felt unsafe. Quite the opposite. Christophe made me feel desired and respected. He was greedy with his kisses, preferring to be the one in charge, but still willingly backing off when I made it clear I wanted to drive our passion.

For a solid hour we kissed, our tongues dancing, teeth gnashing and nipping, until things got a bit more heated. That was when the touching really began. I wanted to feel more of his warm, bare skin, so when he was on top of me, his mouth working down the sensitive column of my neck, I shoved my hands into the back of his pajama bottoms and cupped his rear end. I then wantonly ground my hips against his hard length.

“Christ!” He thrust against me, rubbing his erection along my sodden panties.

For the first time ever, I wanted to have sexual intercourse with a man. See what everyone who enjoyed sex experienced. If anyone could make it pleasurable, I had to believe Christophe would.

Christophe made me feel everything . All of it heated and lustful. I enjoyed this rarity, preferring to grab it by the horns and take all that I could before it was gone.

My husband had other ideas. Before I could wedge my hand between us to shove aside my panties and his pajama pants, he ripped his mouth from mine on a growl. He shook his head sharply.

“ Non . We wait.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as he hovered over me up on his knees. “It is too soon, cheri ,” he stated even though I could tell by his pained expression that he was fighting himself to do what he perceived was the right thing.

I shook my head. “I disagree. I’m willing. And I want you.” I arched my back, my pebbled nipples graphically peaking against the satin fabric while I pressed my legs together, greedy for the pressure right where I needed it.

His eyes blazed with white-hot fire as he traced my undulating form. For a brief second his brow furrowed, and I felt his thumb drag close to my sex, along one side of the mangled scars that lined my inner thighs.

“Alana.” His voice was brutally raw. “How?” he grated through his teeth.

I shook my head. “Not now. I need your touch. Please,” I whispered.

His eyes filled with compassion and adoration as he palmed the outsides of my thighs and ran his hands back and forth, teasing me.

I sighed, excitement pouring through my veins as I waited for his next touch. I didn’t have to wait but a moment before his hand darted out and he cupped my sex possessively, fingers rubbing up and down my center.

“Yes!” I cried out, closing my eyes as he manipulated me perfectly.

He rubbed over that sweet bundle of nerves between my thighs, and I could feel the orgasm blooming on the horizon. An orgasm that I did not give myself. And it was going to be huge.

My body trembled as I moved my hips against skilled his hand.

“Do you like my touch, cheri ?” he asked, his voice a needy rumble, sounding like he’d swallowed gravel.

“So much. Please,” I begged.

He doubled his efforts, spinning his thumb around those nerves until I was gasping. Sweat misted on my skin as my temperature rose to incredible heights along with my desire. I gripped the bedsheet, my hands fisting the fabric as I lost my mind to the seemingly endless pleasure. It was so unbelievably good. It made me feel indescribably alive.

I was a goddess . His goddess.

He made tingles race along my skin with every twirl of his thumb and manipulation of his fingers. My sex clenched around nothing, making me wish he was deeply embedded inside me so he too could feel this enormous amount of bliss.

I mewled and trembled, the orgasm skating through every nerve ending, sitting right on the edge of nirvana. I only needed a little bit more and I’d be gone.

“Please, darling,” I begged, not realizing the endearment I’d just called him. “More,” I pleaded, wanting him to send me over the edge of the cliff straight into the unknown.

“You will come for me, Alana. Show me how my touch makes you burn.” His eyes traced my body up and down until he did something I would have never expected.

He looped his free hand into the fabric of my panties and yanked them tight against my sex, the silky fabric sliding beautiful against that bundle of nerves.

I howled when he tugged and dragged the material back and forth until I arched almost greedily, scratching for every speck of pleasure I could get, my clit throbbing along with my heartbeat each and every time he shifted. My fists turned white with the intensity of my grip as the mother of all orgasms pounded through me. Darkness invaded my vision as stars sparked against my eyelids. My body tightened, everything culminating into endless pleasure pooling at my center, tendrils of delight pouring like golden liquid from between my legs and out every limb.

“Christophe!” I gasped, riding the wave and his talented hand as he slowed his pace, easing me down from such a glorious height.

He adjusted my panties into place as he slid his big body to lie by my side. He pressed featherlight kisses to my cheeks, nose, forehead, and eventually my lips, which was when I opened my eyes.

“Welcome back.” He grinned devilishly.

I pressed my head to his chest not knowing what the appropriate response was to a man who had just given me the best orgasm of my life. Not to mention he’d done it over my underwear while I wore a nightgown. And yet he wasn’t grinding on my leg or trying to get himself off, nor was he demanding I return the favor.

“Do you want me to…?” I gestured with my eyes down his body.

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “My cock is eager to meet you. Alas, I am committed to my plan. I will make love to you one day soon, Alana.” He leaned forward and softly kissed my lips. “But it will be when you are ready for such intimacy. Seeing you come by my hand…” He shook his head. “There’s nothing more sacred. More precious. I want to paint you. Sculpt you out of clay. Etch your likeness into marble. You bring me endless ideas, cheri . If I give into our desires now, we will spend our lives in bed. Not a bad problem, non ?” he teased. “But I want more.”

“What do you want?” I whispered, afraid to talk louder and break this perfect spell where I was safe, sound, happy, and dare I say… adored …as someone special by this man.

“I want everything, my beautiful wife.” He kissed me. “First, I want to know about your scars if you are willing to share more about your past.”

I clenched my teeth and my nostrils flared as the memory resurfaced, taking the sated, calm feeling I’d just experienced and obliterating it completely.

“When I lived on the streets, I had to make money.” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat, trying to stall for more time.

He nodded for me to continue.

“I was only fifteen and had just met Celine. Some days we’d go through a restaurant’s garbage and find edible food to survive on, but resources were very limited. Most nights we’d sleep in a women’s shelter. But we soon learned that staying at shelters at our age was risky. The government liked to place teens under the age of eighteen in homes. Celine and I had suffered enough in places that were supposed to be safe. So we decided to learn the oldest trade in the book.”

“Sex work,” he surmised accurately. His guess was said gently and with no judgement, unlike what I expected from pretty much anyone who found out I’d sold my body for money.

I closed my eyes and looked away, shame filling my every thought.

Christophe curled a finger around my chin and lightly turned my head to look me in the eyes. “Sometimes in life, we have to do things we do not like. Things we are not proud of. I understand this.”

“You do?” My tone rose along with the hope that he wouldn’t start viewing me in a negative light. I’d already stared to yearn for his praise and kindness.

“I do. Is this how you got the scars?” He brought the conversation back to what he wanted to know. The one thing I wanted to forget for the rest of time.

Tears filled my eyes and fell down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away.

“I was hired by two men. Offered more money than I’d ever made in a single night. I should have known better.” My breath caught in my throat as the thoughts of that night tortured me anew.

Christophe cupped my cheeks and wiped away my tears. “It’s okay. I’m here. You give me what’s heavy within your mind, heart, and soul. I will carry it for you so that it can never hurt you again.”

I had to trust him if we were ever going to be happy in our marriage. So I shifted my head back until he dropped his arms. I couldn’t say what happened with the beauty of his touch on my skin. Not when I had to relive something horrendous.

“It started fine. We shared a couple drinks. Things progressed.”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“When they got me naked, one suddenly held my hands down over my head on the bed. That’s when his friend pulled out a knife. I screamed, of course, but they were too strong. The guy with the knife ripped off one of his dirty socks and shoved it into my mouth, gagging me. Apparently, they liked inflicting pain while having sex. One would carve into my thigh and watch it bleed to the hoots and hollers of his friend. Then they took turns raping me. That process continued until I passed out. I woke up a butchered, bleeding mess.”

Christophe bounced off the bed and started to pace. His hands were white fists, his facial expression twisted to one of pure rage. “If I could do to them all that they did to you, I would,” he snarled. “I’d make sure they felt pain for the rest of their miserable existences,” he growled as he crossed the floor.

“That experience taught Celine and I to take turns with our johns, so the other was always readily available to call the authorities if a situation got out of hand.”

“Smart,” he snapped, still angry. “I’m sorry this horror happened to you. If there is anything I can do to help now, I am here. I will always be here. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again. I swear it,” Christophe vowed.

The funny thing, even after such a short time of knowing him, I believed his vow. No one but Celine had made me such a promise. Christophe, my husband, wasn’t looking at me with disdain or disgust, as I had feared. He was angry for me . Just like Celine.

“I’m going to give you some time to be alone and work through your thoughts. I will shower in the other room and ready. We’re meeting Darren and Celine at noon.”

“Thank you, Christophe. For…listening,” I whispered.

“Thank you, Alana, for trusting me. You won’t regret it.”

* * * *

I wore one of the three semi-nice dresses I owned. Since Las Vegas was hot, I’d chosen one with spaghetti straps. It was white with pretty little orange and red flowers throughout and it fell to my knees. The minute we entered the restaurant in the hotel, a tiny flurry of color slammed into my body. Celine wrapped her arms around me and pressed her face to my neck.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Celine gushed, holding me in a vise grip.

I patted her back and rocked her from side to side, squeezing her just as eagerly. We’d both made it to the third day after our weddings and were already seeing one another. I glanced over at my husband while I kept hugging my friend and mouthed, “Thank you,” to him.

He grinned and winked, then shook a blond man’s hand. The man looked at least twenty years older than us. He was tall, with an athletic build reminding me of a swimmer, whereas Christophe had the body of a man who worked with large weights on a regular basis, his arms and thighs packed with muscular bulk.

I eased back and stared into my friend’s face, struck silent when I noticed the marks she’d attempted to hide. I cupped her jaw and slid my thumb along her swollen purple cheekbone. I frowned as I took in the rest of her. She was wearing a bulky sweater over a sundress I’d seen her wear a thousand times. My Celine was not modest, nor did she run cold, and the temperature even inside the restaurant was sweltering.

“Why are you wearing this?” I plucked at the lapels of the cardigan.

She smacked my hands playfully. “Later,” she whispered mysteriously and then smiled. “Alana, my dearest friend in the entire world, I’d like you to meet my husband,” Celine announced, going over to the blond man and looping her arm around his waist, making a show of snuggling up to his side. He in return put his hand not around her, but on the back of her neck as though he was keeping her in place. “Darren Holt, this is Alana Kim,” she finished.

“Hopefully Toussaint,” Christophe corrected and looked at me warmly while he came to my side and slid an arm around my waist, his hand resting on my hip.

Instead of shaking Darren’s hand, I offered a little wave and pressed closer to Christophe. I didn’t know why, I just needed to feel protected for some reason. “Nice to meet you.”

“Celine talks a lot about you. I thought for sure you’d be a ten-foot-tall angel from Heaven. I’m glad to see you’re just a woman. Almost as pretty as mine. Isn’t that right, lambchop?” he asked, putting pressure around my friend’s nape as though leading her by the scruff of her neck the way you would a dog. He held on until she stood on her toes so he could publicly give her a wet, sloppy kiss with visible tongue in the middle of the restaurant.

I scowled and stared down at the floor. This man gave me a really bad feeling.

“Oh, I assure you, she’s far more than just a woman.” Christophe squeezed the ball of my shoulder until I looked up at him. “You okay?” he whispered.

“I see someone is smitten with his wife. These types of girls really know how to give back in the bedroom if you know what I mean. Am I right, or am I right?” Darren clapped Christophe on the shoulder, laughing raucously at his crass and unnecessary comment.

“Is our table ready?” Christophe changed the subject, something I silently praised. “Ready, mon coeur ?” He took my hand and interlaced our fingers.

“I made sure we got the best seat in the place,” Darren boasted as we followed. “Gives us a great view of the Strip through the windows. We can see all the women strutting down the street in their high heels and short skirts. I fucking love Sin City, man.”

Christophe growled low in his chest, clearly annoyed.

I squeezed his hand. “I am used to this behavior. No worries here.” I smiled for his benefit.

“I am not , nor do I find it very couth or appealing. It is rather grating on my nerves,” he admitted with bite in his tone.

“What’s that, man? I didn’t hear ya. You gotta speak up.” Darren sat in his chair.

Christophe moved forward and pulled out Celine’s chair and then the one next to it for me before taking his own seat.

“People still do that? What happened to women’s liberation and all that shit?” Darren snickered, then lifted his hand in the air and whistled, disturbing other patrons who were enjoying their meals as he called out to the waiter. “Hey, we need drinks over here pronto!”

I glanced at Celine, burning a hole through her with my eyes until she looked at me. She gave me a bland expression before shaking her head, signaling not to say a word. I had a lot of words I wanted to say, none of them pleasant, but what could I do? I had to let her lead. This was her husband. Her contract. Her life. Still, her husband was an asshole, and she shouldn’t have to put up with it. There had to be a way out if the parties weren’t a good match. She could give all the money back including the deposit. I’d even bet a million dollars that my husband would help Celine and bring her with us wherever home was in France while she worked to get on her feet. I was certain of it.

Through the rest of lunch, Darren made disgusting jokes and palmed my best friend like she was his personal toy, even teasing her nipple over her clothing right in front of us, acting as if we couldn’t see what he was blatantly doing. Celine and I had known men like him. Unfortunately, we had more experience with them than we’d have liked.

All the signs were leading to a very bad situation that already seemed to be getting volatile—if her swollen cheek and his handsy, possessive behavior were anything to go by.

I ate my food as quickly as possible, wanting to get to the shopping portion of our day so we could talk in private.

“You must have been hungry,” Christophe laughed, noticing my plate was demolished before anyone else’s. I hadn’t said a single word, preferring to shovel food into my mouth so that we could be done.

“I’m eager to shop with my best friend,” I said and stared into his eyes, wanting him to read how badly I needed alone time with her.

“How about you two go on ahead to the boutiques in the lobby? We’ll meet you in an hour.”

I instantly pushed back on my chair. Christophe stood to help me and then did the same for Celine.

“Such a gentleman,” Celine praised and then nudged my shoulder playfully. “Let’s spend our husbands’ money. Is that okay, Big D?” She gestured to Darren.

Big D.

I had to choke down the lunch that threatened to make a second appearance at hearing that endearment.

“Just charge it to my room, sexy,” he answered, his eyes running up and down my friend’s bare legs. “Damn, girl. That dress. You’re giving me a chubby.” He palmed his package and adjusted in his seat. “Hurry up and get some clothing while I talk business to my friend Chris here. And don’t skimp on the lingerie!”

Christophe sighed, letting out a long breath through his nose, his fire-breathing dragon coming to life as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed me a credit card. “Anything you want, cheri . You’ll need quite a lot. Do not be frugal. We can afford it.” He cupped my cheek and pecked my lips. “Be safe. I will find you soon.”

“ Merci . Have fun with your, uh, associate.” I knew better than to call a man like that Christophe’s friend. He hadn’t refereed to him as such, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying his company at all. My husband and I had that in common.

Celine linked her arm with mine. “Come on, sister. Let’s do some damage to our husbands’ credit cards.”