Chapter Three

Philippe"s mind was reeling. A virgin? How the hell could a woman who looked like she was made for the bedroom be a virgin?

Charlee-Mae was amused at the way her husband was struggling to contain his shock. "Dr. Bowles was the one who gave me this." She handed over her medical report, but her husband simply put it back in the drawer, and she wasn"t quite sure what to make of that.

"So I guess it"s true?"

Fuck no, Philippe wanted to say. Because it was crazy as hell. How could she be a virgin? A virgin, for fuck"s sake. Didn"t everyone these days lose their virginity in their teens? He certainly had, even though technically, his first fuck had been when he was eleven.

"When Dr. Bowles first showed me my medical report, I really thought she was joking. But then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was just so...me? I mean..." Her tone turned impish, and Philippe found the tone strangely bewitching. "I may have lost a few memories here and there, but it doesn"t change who I am, and I just know I"m the type of person who"d risk everything for a whirlwind romance...but just as quickly make a dramatic exit if we have a big fight."

Charlee-Mae glanced up at him expectantly, and Philippe cleared his throat to buy himself some time. What exactly was he supposed to say?

"That"s how it happened between us, right? We fell in love at first sight, you proposed, I accepted, we had a fight, I ran away, then..." His "wife" suddenly paused. "Was it my fault or yours?"

Now, that at least he knew how best to answer, and he said quite simply, "Neither."

Charlee-Mae felt touched. "Oh, bless you, you"re so sweet."

Philippe could not recall ever being described as "sweet", and he wasn"t certain how to feel about it.

"That probably means it"s my fault, isn"t it? And it kinda makes sense," she added musingly, "since you"re here in Wyoming—-"

There was another pause, and Philippe was beginning to understand that his "wife" was simply the type to speak her thoughts out loud.

"Do you live here? In Jackson Hole?"

"Non. I am here for my company"s upcoming launch."

"Oh." Charlee-Mae frowned. She had thought they were here because they had made up, and this was where they had chosen to have their honeymoon, but maybe not?

"Am I supposed to be here, too?"

"Oui."

"Huh." Since she didn"t want to risk another headache by forcing herself to remember, Charlee-Mae tried to imagine and recreate what could"ve generally happened between them. "If you"re here for work, and I"m supposed to be here, too, then maybe...we did have a fight," she concluded, "and that"s why you had to come up here alone. But when I realized I was wrong, I decided to go after you, and that"s when I had my accident. Is that what happened?"

"It doesn"t matter—-"

Charlee-Mae"s heart just melted. "I can"t believe someone who looks as hot as you do can be so sweet."

Philippe was perplexed. How was he fucking sweet?

"You obviously don"t want me to think it"s my fault..."

Actually, Philippe was simply playing it safe with his answers, but if that was how she wanted to think of it, then who was he to stop her?

"But—-" Charlee-Mae wrinkled her nose. "I definitely know how crazy I can get, which, by the way, you can totally blame on Dynasty—-"

"Dynasty?"

"It"s my favorite show," Charlee-Mae shared excitedly. "I"m obsessed with it. Have I never told you that?"

"Not as I recall..."

Charlee-Mae sighed. That her husband was being so careful with his answers hadn"t escaped her notice, and that really was just so sweet of him! He obviously didn"t mind painting himself the bad guy, if that was what it took to keep her feeling from upset. No wonder he had been able to steal her heart and make her say yes to marrying him in just two weeks. After all—-

Charlee-Mae suddenly remembered something. "Oh..."

Philippe stiffened. Quoi maintenant? What now?

"I don"t remember your name," Charlee-Mae blurted out.

"Ah."

Charlee-Mae giggled. "Hello "Ah"."

It was the lamest of jokes, but for some reason, it still made his lips twitch.

"Oh my." Charlee-Mae just wanted to die. "You really are perfect, aren"t you? You really thought that was funny?"

"Now that you put it that way," he said dryly, "no, I don"t any longer."

His wife laughed, and the sound was enough to give him a hard-on.

Putain.

"So..." Charlee-Mae was feeling quite excited. "Your name?"

"Philippe."

Charlee-Mae"s heart skipped a beat.

Philippe.

Just the act of testing his name out in her mind was enough to make her toes curl.

Philippe.

She loved it, and she loved how her husband pronounced his name even more. It was so...French, and she just could not resist trying to imitate it as she said—-

"Philippe." And Charlee-Mae"s heart sang. It just felt so incredibly good to say her husband"s name that she had to say it again. "Philippe."

Philippe had a hard time keeping his face expressionless. His wife"s attempt at a French accent was the most horrible thing he had ever heard in his entire life, and while it should have been enough to completely turn him off...he actually found himself reacting the opposite.

Incroyable.

He found it adorable and funny, but more than that, he also found her painfully terrible accent hot as hell, and when his "wife" then added in her husky, honey-sweet voice—-

"Mon Philippe."

Philippe"s jaw clenched. Her accent was still shitty, but it didn"t seem to fucking matter. All he seemed capable of caring about was how his wife had just called him "her Philippe", and instead of finding her display of possessiveness another major turn-off like he usually did, his body chose to surprise him yet again, with the way his cock was now fully erect and throbbing painfully behind his pants.

A frisson of sexual awareness snaked down Charlee-Mae"s spine when she noticed the way her husband was now staring at her. The lust that glittered in his eyes was flagrant and fierce, its heat almost primal, but instead of scaring her off, his need for her sparked her own desire, and Charlee-Mae found herself slowly wetting her suddenly-dry lips.

Bordel de merde!

Seeing the pink tip of her tongue run over her rosebud lips had his entire body clenching in arousal. It was just fucking insane, how this "wife" of his had such an easy time destroying his self-control and reducing him into a mindless beast in heat.

"Philippe?"

The breathless tone of her honey-sweet voice almost had him groaning.

"Oui?"

Charlee-Mae almost whimpered. Oh God, that was simply "yes" in French, but it was just so, so sexy she could die at the sound of it.

Jade-green eyes met amber ones, and just as Charlee-Mae lost track of her thoughts, so did Philippe forget every rule he was supposed to stick to about their mail-order marriage.

He had meant to keep their relationship platonic and uncomplicated, but with Charlee-Mae turning out to be every fucking thing he had ever fantasized in a woman—-

Charlee-Mae"s heart started to race as Philippe slowly leaned close.

Lord, oh Lord.

His golden head bent down, and her breath caught.

"I want to kiss you."

Her head spun, and Charlee-Mae heard herself whisper, "Oui, s"il vous pla?t." Yes, please.

Lust blazed in his loins, and even though her French accent was still frighteningly horrible, Philippe could not remember hearing anything so fucking hot. This woman turned him on in a way that no other woman had ever done, and even as the logical part of his mind warned him against muddying the waters of his marriage—-

It was too late.

Charlee-Mae"s toes curled under the sheets as her husband"s large, strong hands clasped her face. She trembled in his hold, and she could barely hear anything over the loud drumming of her heartbeat. His head continued to lower, and just as she tried to draw another breath to calm herself, it was then his mouth finally covered hers, and she ended up completely forgetting how to breathe.

Oh! My! Lord!

Her husband"s mouth was simply divine. It was hot where it was supposed to be hot. Soft and firm where it was supposed to be soft and firm, and oh God, oh God, the way he was leisurely nibbling and nipping on her lips was fast making Charlee-Mae lose her mind.

She tried to keep her wits together, but when she felt his lips finally nudge hers open, the thought of what was going to happen next had her moaning as her lips parted—-

Aaaaah.

The kiss deepened as his tongue stroked inside the moist cavern of her mouth, and all she could do was moan anew as her arms wrapped around his neck. His kiss was slow and gentle at first, but as the strokes of his tongue gradually changed into swift, hard thrusts that made her feel like he was fucking her mouth, something inside of her seemed to unfurl—-

Putain.

One moment, she was like a shy, uncertain kitten in his arms, and then all of a sudden she had turned into something else and something more, with her arms tightening around his neck as she started kissing him back. Her tongue began to mate with his, and at the first feel of her tongue thrusting inside of his mouth—-

Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck.

A groan escaped him as he felt his control start to break. He had never been the type to lose his mind over a kiss. Sex might be his favorite pastime, but he had never let it rule his life. He had always remained in command of himself even when fucking, and this had not changed no matter who he was fucking. Or at least it never did...until now. Until this. Until her.

And when he felt her start to move until he realized she was climbing into his lap—-

Putain de bordel de merde!

The bed dipped as she straddled him, and he could no longer think. He cupped her nape while his other hand went under her hospital gown—-

"Putain!"

He yanked back, and Charlee-Mae moaned in protest at the abrupt end of their kiss.

"You do not have any underwear," Philippe growled. "Pourquoi?"

"Uh..." Charlee-Mae had a hard time making her brain work. "Do you hate it?"

"Hate it?" A hoarse laugh escaped him. "It"s more like..."

He said something in French, and although Charlee-Mae"s proficiency in his language had improved over the years, she was just so turned on, lust had killed all of her brain cells, and all she could do was look at him helplessly. "What?"

"I said," Philippe gritted out, "it"s killing me." And before she could answer, her husband chose to further demonstrate his answer, with his hand starting to move again under her gown.

Oh God!

Philippe"s hand covered her mound, and her nails dug hard into his shoulders. "Philippe!"

Her imploring tone was matched by the plea in her amber eyes, and the combination had the last of his control disintegrating. All hell broke loose, and the consequences of what he was about to do simply ceased to matter.

This woman was his wife.

It was suddenly easy to think of her in such a manner, suddenly important to know that this woman was his alone.

Charlee-Mae was his wife, and so if his wife was silently begging him to make her cum—-

Mon Dieu!

His gaze took hers captive as he started kneading her pussy with just the heel of his palm, and not for a second did he allow his wife to look away. He wanted her to remember who it was giving her pleasure, wanted Charlee-Mae to be capable only of picturing his face every time her pussy started to tingle and quiver.

And tingle and quiver it did, and in every instance, his own hunger grew as he watched her face reveal her every thought and feeling. He had never met someone who was this unguarded with her feelings, and to see her own desires burn hotter and hotter, and know that it was all because of him—-

Putain.

He finally gave them what they both wanted, and her moan filled the room as his fingers finally acquainted themselves with the silky, swollen thickness of her folds.

"Oh God."

His hand moved down, and she moaned anew as his fingers started tracing the moist, throbbing lines of her flesh.

"Philippe!"

Her cry was of aching need and pleasure, and it nearly had him groaning as well.

So...goddamn...hot!

This woman was so fucking hot, and to think that she was his wife—-

Aaaaaaah!

Charlee-Mae couldn"t stop herself from writhing, moaning, and rubbing herself against her husband"s fingers, which proved to be just as divine as his mouth. If he could make her feel this wild and crazy just by stroking her folds, then what more, oh God...what more—-oh my, oh God, oh Lord!

His thumb had found its way to her little nub of flesh, and the way Philippe was using his thumb to stimulate her clit had her unable to last for more than a second. Pleasure consumed her out of nowhere, and all she could do was dig her nails into his shoulders and cry his name out as she started to cum...and...cum...and...cum.

"Philippe!"

Her orgasm seemed to last for an eternity, and by the time the shudders that rocked her body gradually faded, she felt so tired and sleepy she couldn"t even utter a protest as Philippe laid her down on the bed.

He left her side briefly, and when he returned he had a wet washcloth in his hand, and butterflies in her stomach came to life as she felt him wipe her clean. She wondered if he had always been like this, and from there, she remembered yet again the question she had asked, and he had failed to answer.

"Philippe?" She waited until his jade-green eyes sought hers, and it was then she asked, "I got it right earlier, didn"t I? We had a fight on our wedding day, and that"s why I"m still a virgin?"