Chapter Seven
Why had she taken Lycos’s hand like that? The question hung for a moment in Arielle’s thoughts, then she let it go. What did reasons matter? She had done it without thinking. It seemed right to do. Natural.
His hand was warm. Warm and strong. Meshing with hers. Uniting them.
Which was strange, illogical, as there was nothing to unite her and Lycos. He was taking her home away from her. She should remember that.
But right now, somehow, beneath those golden stars glowing through the dark floor of heaven, that did not seem to matter. It seemed extremely far away. A strange, dream-like state was enveloping her, filled with the heady perfume of the jasmine, the velvet warmth of the night, the wine in her veins. With her free hand she fingered the soft folds of the lovely shawl, soft around her shoulders, his gift to her. In her head she heard his words to her, telling her she was beautiful.
She felt, at the nape of her neck, the soft brush of his mouth as he’d kissed her so lightly, so briefly. Felt too, now, the warmth of Lycos’s hand holding hers, felt her head turn towards him.
He was looking at her. His eyes, dark, unreadable, seen only by starlight, boring into hers. She could not look away. It was impossible to do so. Emotion welled up in her. Emotion she did not know, did not recognise. Emotion she could not, would not, name. She only knew that it was filling her, taking her over. Making that shimmering memory of his light, brief kiss on the nape of her neck a million times more shimmering. She felt her heart jump, her breath catch. Felt her fingers tighten in his—his tighten in hers. He leant towards her. His dark eyes boring into hers. There was a drumming in her ears, a quickening in her veins. She was breathless and motionless, just gazing into his eyes. She caught the scent of his aftershave, the scent and warmth of his body. She felt the warmth of his breath and then…
She heard her name, breathed like a wisp of air, then heard no more. Only felt, as her eyes fluttered shut, the soft, slow, languorous velvet of his mouth on hers, reaching for her. So soft, so slow. Tasting her lips, brushing them like silk.
She felt her free hand lift to where it wanted, no needed, to go. Her fingers curved around the nape of his neck and splayed out into his dark hair.
She held his mouth to hers as hers opened to his. It was impossible not to do so. Impossible to resist. Impossible not to give a low, soft moan as the wonder and the pleasure and the sweetness of it filled her so completely.
How long they kissed she did not know, for time had stopped, the world had ceased and everything had been lost in the sweet, honied pleasure he was drawing from her. The pleasure that was quickening in her. It filled her being, filled her veins, pulsed through her.
His hand tightened on hers. He drew her to her feet and she did not resist at all. Why should she resist this? Why, when it was all she wanted and it was the most wonderful thing in all the world to be kissed by Lycos in the warm velvet night, beneath the star-filled arc of the heavens.
His mouth drew away and a cry of loss broke from her, but his eyes, so dark and so drowning, were still fixed on hers. A smile was on his lips, as his long lashes dipped over his eyes. Wonder filled her, consumed her, possessed her infinitely and consumingly.
‘Come to me, Arielle,’ his voice was soft, low and filled with something she could give no name to, but knew at the deepest level of her being. Knew, recognised and shared, for it was in her as well.
‘Come to me because you are so, so beautiful. Because I am filled with desire for you. Because you are all that I want.’ His invocation was in his words. His voice. ‘Come to me.’
And Arielle came.
Willingly, joyfully, with wonderment. And with a soft, warm fire lighting within her. Kindling a soft, warm flame that set her whole body aglow. Aglow for this man who had come into her life without expectation, or preparation. Who had seemed to be only the man who would take her home from her. And yet, somehow now—through the sweep of his darkening gaze, the husk of his voice, the touch of his hand, the velvet of his mouth—he had become someone she welcomed with all the quickening of her pulse.
His mouth closed over hers again, drawing from her yet more sweetness, the honey of arousal. He relinquished her only to lead her—eyes holding hers, her hand fast in his—into the house, through the hallway, up the echoing stone stairs and along the wood-floored corridor to open the door to his bedroom.
In that moment, he was all that she desired.
All.
She breathed his name as he drew her inside his bedroom, took her into his arms again.
‘Lycos.’
It was the breath of night, of stars, of sweet, sweet desire.
And she yielded to it with all her heart.
Her slender body was pliant in his embrace, the softness of her breasts swelling as his hand folded around the nape of her neck, holding her for his kiss. It was slow and sensuous, and arousing. For her and for himself. He felt himself harden against her. Heard, and felt, the tiny gasp from her throat as his desire for her became tangible. A low laugh broke from him, as husky as his voice.
‘Do you want me to hide what you do to me?’ he said against her lips, his free hand moving down her back to pull her more tightly against him. He could feel her soft breasts responding to the feel of the his chest, raising his own level of arousal—and hers. He wanted more.
His kiss deepened, opening her mouth with his, his tongue twining with hers. She leant into him, head going back, hips pushing against his, strengthening his own arousal. His hand left the nape of her neck and moved down to the neckline of her dress instead. He moved it down, exposing her bra, her hardened nipples visible. Deftly he peeled the unnecessary fabric away, and her beautiful, engorged breasts spilled out. Arousal rose again and his mouth dipped to make its feast.
Another gasp came from her throat as, with lips and tongue, he teased and laved. She moaned again, head dropping back, breasts bared, uplifted to his ministrations. It was good. So very good. But he wanted more.
His hand at her back reached up for the zip of her dress, drawing it down in one long, smooth glide. It fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. He unfastened her peeled down bra and discarded it carelessly. Now she was naked to the waist. He stepped back a moment, both hands resting now on the curve of her hips, surveying her. How very, very lovely she was, with her engorged breasts, straining nipples, glorious hair cascading over her shoulders, lips parted. And in her eyes…
The flame of desire.
Slowly, very slowly, he ran a finger along the waistline of her panties. Her breathing was shallow, pupils dilated. He lowered his hand, palming the soft mound beneath. He felt her stance change…widening. He gave another low, husky laugh. Let his hand move lower still. She gave a gasp that became a moan.
For a moment he toyed with her, feeling his own arousal mounting yet higher. He wanted more.
With a sudden movement he pulled her panties down her legs, wanting her entirely naked. She kicked them away herself, standing there in front of him, bared to the starlight. And to him.
Slowly, methodically, never taking his eyes from her, he peeled off his polo shirt and dropped it to the floor. Then he unfastened his belt, shucked off his chinos and his boxer shorts, and stood in front of her, as naked as she.
Her eyes were fixed on him—then dipped to his waist. Below his waist. He gave his low laugh again and reached for her hand.
‘You see what you do to me?’ He moved her hand to himself.
He heard her say his name, a whisper. Lifting her hand away, he led her to his bed.
Lycos laid her down. Her heart was racing, her breathing shallow. Blood coursing. Desire pouring through her. The way he’d kissed her, touched her, brought her to touch him, was feeding a want in her that was impossible to extinguish. But why should she? This was what she wanted, what she was giving herself to. Yielding completely.
He lay down beside her, kissing her again, deeply and sensually. His hand cupped her straining breast, nipple between his fingers. Scissoring, pinching lightly, until she thought she must go mad with it. Then performing the same with her other breast. His body was moving over hers and she could feel her thighs slacken. Feel his strong, muscled thigh moving over hers. Feel more than his thigh…
His hand was leaving her breast, sliding down over her body, sliding between her thighs. She moaned again, as he found what he wanted to find. What she wanted him to find. She was getting closer, she could feel it. As his fingers glided between the soft, silken folds of her body, she moaned again. She heard him give his low laugh, knowing what he was doing to her, drawing from her. Restlessness was taking her over and yet, though each skilled stroke of his fingers was a deliciousness she could barely bear, it was not enough.
Her legs moved, trying to capture his, to draw him across her. His name broke from her again, hungry, urgent. She could feel the response of her body to his intimate touch building inexorably and she was unable to quench it. Nor did she want to. It felt too good. Too blissful. Too tormentingly arousing.
But she did not want…
Her hands went to his shoulders, pulling him down on her. Wanting the pressure of his strong, hard body on her. Widening her legs, lifting her hips, inviting him. Imploring him…
Her nails dug into his shoulders, neck lifting, muscles tightening. Hunger growing.
‘Lycos, please. I can’t…’
He looked down at her, a smile playing at his mouth, his eyes half-lidded. Her nails dug deeper, hips lifted higher. This was a torment, a hunger she needed to sate. A desperation.
His smile deepened. ‘Is this, my beautiful Arielle, what you want?’
He slid his fingers from her, with the flat of his hand widening her thighs, moving over her completely.
‘Allow me to oblige,’ he said with a smile.
He entered her straining, yearning, imploring body in one strong, powerful thrust. With what remained of her conscious mind, which had turned to mush under his skilled and tormenting caresses, she meant to warn him that it had been a long, long time since she had last known intimacy with a man. That her body was out of practice.
But any warning was as unnecessary as it was unsaid.
He had prepared her well.
She gave a gasp as he thrust into her.
He filled her. Absolutely and completely, their bodies fusing into one. And as they fused, glory took her.
It swept over her. Swept up from the very heart of her, to possess her totally. A single glorious, incandescent flame that burst within her. She cried out. She was pulsing around him. Enveloping him, enclosing him, drawing him further and further into her. She could feel her body fusing around his, feeling his strength, his flesh becoming her own flesh. She cried out again. The burning glory of it, the wonder, the ecstasy. His name broke from her lips, over and over again. Her hands slid around his back and pressed into him, holding him as closely as she held him within her.
She could feel him shuddering within her. Heard him cry out too. She was rocking against him now to keep the glory, that endless ecstasy, pulsing and pounding through her.
She was not crying out now. Now sobs were breaking from her throat and her spine was bowing. Thighs wrapped around him, neck arching forward. Pressing him to her, never to let him go…
How long it lasted she did not know. Only that slowly, infinitely slowly, she was coming down. The ecstasy possessing her was becoming an echo. A sweet, sighing echo. She felt her straining muscles relax across all her body, her thighs loosening. Yet she did not relinquish him. She held him close still, close within her, though his muscles had slackened too. She felt him lift himself on one elbow, saw him looking down at her with a softness in his eyes. His hand smoothed the tangled locks of her hair away from her face. His mouth brushed hers.
‘Arielle,’ he said with a voice that was as soft as the light in his eyes. As soft as the touch of his hand. ‘My beautiful, beautiful Arielle.’
She saw his long, dark lashes lower over his eyes, heard the sigh of repletion, of passion fulfilled, in his breath. Heard his breathing slow. His head lowered to her shoulder and, as her hand folded around the strong nape of his neck, her own breathing slowed. Her eyes fluttered shut and she joined him in sleep. Sweet, satiated and complete. Holding Lycos in her arms.
The only place she wanted him to be.
Lycos padded back to the bed from the bathroom. Dawn was approaching and already the night sky was paling. He could see Arielle outlined beneath the coverlet he’d pulled over them both at some stage of the night. She was still asleep. He was not surprised. Their night had been…
Active.
To possess her once had not been sufficient. Though could anything exceed that first incredible union? He had known his desire for her had been certain and strong. But she had shown him a hunger of her own for him that had been like a burning brand, igniting him with a flame that seared him in a single thrust of his body. The intensity of his response had been something he’d never experienced before.
Because she gave herself to me. Hungered for me.
Her desire for him came from herself—natural, ardent and passionate.
She is like no other woman.
He folded himself down beside her, drawing her sleeping body against his, hearing her murmur as he did. Her body was soft against his, moulding back against him. His arm held her close, her scent beguiling him. Drawn back against him, he felt her closeness start to have its inevitable effect on him. But he let it die away. He, too, needed more sleep yet.
Passion could flame again when the sun arose.
And it could fill their days and their nights. But for now, sleep was all he wanted.
And Arielle in his arms.
Lycos stretched languorously on the sun lounger by the pool. ‘Mmm. That feels good,’ he said. Arielle was massaging sun cream onto his back. The slow, warm, ultra-sensuous strokes of her palms were very good indeed. And all too easily arousing.
He changed his thoughts quickly. There was time enough for that later. A lot more time. Any amount of time in fact.
As much time as I want.
And, right now, what he wanted was this. Just this. Here at the mas. Long leisurely days, long sensual nights. No rush, no agenda, no demands, no diversions. Simply to enjoy what was happening.
Being here. Slowing down. Taking things easy.
With Arielle.
Going with the flow.
And the flow was good, very good. Simple, leisurely, detached from anything going on anywhere else. He felt himself relax into the slow, sensuous massage that Arielle was giving him as she perched beside him on the lounger. The feel of her hip indenting into his. The scent of her body—a body he now knew so, so intimately—caught his breath and mingled with the rich aroma of the sun cream she was smoothing into hissun-warmed skin.
The soft palm strokes ceased.
‘Don’t stop,’ he murmured.
‘You’re all done,’ said Arielle. He could hear the smile in her voice, as she stood up. ‘Time for a cooling drink.’
Lycos watched her go. Her natural grace, the unconscious sway of her body, so alluring even without her realising it, all held his gaze. As she disappeared through the stone gateway, he let his gaze lift to the sky. The afternoon sun was still high, tiny cloudlets puffing to the west, warmth flooding through him. So peaceful. So quiet.
Even the ducks were quiet. Maurice and Mathilde were nestled down in the shade on the far side of the pool, their heads buried in their folded wings as the pool water gently lapped against the filter.
Only the ever-invisible cicadas seemed to be active, along with a few butterflies that were busying themselves with the lavender bushes against the old stone wall and a bird that was pecking randomly in a flower bed.
Peace and quiet. Quiet and peace. It soaked into the warm stone of the house, the garden wall, the paving around the pool. Soaked into the lavender-scented air.
It soaked into him.
He let his eyes close, the brightness of the sun pressing on his lids. He wondered what he was thinking and then realised he wasn’t thinking anything at all. Only that this was good. This moment. This day. This time.
Time that seemed to have almost stopped. Turning over slowly, unhurriedly, uncounted. Turning with the hours of the day, the setting of the sun, the rising of the moon and the pricking out, one by one, of the gold stars in the dark velvet night. Easing towards the morning and the sun lifting in the east, its rays stealing over the roofs of the barns, threading through the canopy of the sheltering trees, awakening the birds, rousing the hens and the ducks from their night’s slumbers.
Rousing him and Arielle, from their entwined arms, their tangled legs, their desire-sated bodies. To start the day all over again.
How long he had been here at the mas he scarcely knew and did not care. He only cared that Arielle was here and time had ceased.
Arielle crossed to the sofa, snuggling down beside Lycos, piano abandoned. At his invitation she often played for him after they’d dined, notes rippling soothingly as he relaxed on the sofa, watching her through half-closed eyes. Now, the final nocturne finished, she joined him. He put his arm around her and pulled her close against him. His long legs stretched out, crossed at his ankles, free hand cupping his liqueur glass. She reached to take a tiny sip herself from it. How strange it felt sometimes to be so intimate with him, even in little gestures like that. How strange and yet how entirely natural.
As if it has always been like this.
And always will be.
A shadow flickered in her eyes as she rested her head against his shoulder. But it wouldn’t always be like this, would it? She had given herself to Lycos. To her own consuming desire for him, that glowed within her like a sweet, sweet flame. And to his desire for her that made that flame burn so wondrously.
But for how long would that flame burn?
She did not want to think about it. Did not want to do anything other than accept what had happened, feel wonder that it had and feel this deep contentment that filled her every moment of every day. Every gold-limned day.
Here, with Lycos.
While he wants me.
While it pleased him to stay here, at the mas, with her. Day after timeless day.
She felt him drop a light kiss on her hair.
‘Today was good,’ he said.
She tilted her face to him. ‘It was, wasn’t it? And you truly didn’t mind my dragging you along?’
He laughed—a relaxed, indulgent sound. ‘My first grape harvest,’ he mused.
‘You did well,’ she praised him. She’d responded to a call by her neighbours, Jeanne and Claude, saying they were shorthanded that day. She always lent a hand when they asked, exchanging her labour for wine. She’d passed the request on tentatively to Lycos, but he’d volunteered willingly. They’d driven over in the morning and pitched in all day.
They’d then shared the communal evening meal Jeanne had prepared for all the workers. Again, Lycos had joined in cheerfully. Arielle had been aware that Jeanne’s knowing eyes had taken in that she and Lycos were on more than friendly terms. But she’d said nothing, and for that Arielle was grateful.
She had been glad, too, that Lycos had been civil and neighbourly to the couple whose land neighboured that of Mas Delfine. She hoped it meant he would not sell the mas to new owners who would not be good neighbours to Jeanne and Claude. She pushed the thought away. The time would come when the mas was no longer her home, but for these precious final days, however long they lasted, she would not let thoughts of the future spoil this golden time.
My swan song, made possible because of what has happened between Lycos and myself. Giving me good memories of this last time here, instead of sad ones.
For that she would be grateful to Lycos. As for anything more…
She must not ask. This must be enough.
He was speaking again and she paid attention.
‘Would you mind if I abandon you tomorrow morning?’ he asked. ‘I’ve promised to take young Daniel out for a spin in my car.’
Arielle’s face lit up. Daniel was Jeanne and Claude’s son, home for the harvest. The lad had been instantly wowed, and dead impressed, when she and Lycos had arrived in Lycos’s growling monster.
‘Oh, that’s so kind of you!’ she exclaimed warmly. ‘He’ll be your fan for life!’
Lycos laughed. ‘He’s a nice kid,’ he said.
She brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘And you are a nice man, Lycos Dimistrios,’ she said softly, warmly, her eyes aglow. ‘A good man.’
He met her eyes, a curious light in his. ‘Good?’ he echoed. ‘I’ve not been called that before,’ he said slowly.
For an instant that strange look held in his eyes. Then it changed. Became very familiar.
And its effects were very familiar.
She felt her breath quicken, her pulse quicken, her lips part.
His kiss was sensuous, arousing. She heard him deposit his liqueur glass. Felt him shift position and get to his feet, scooping her up into his arms as he did so. She gave a cry that was half laugh, half gasp.
He kissed her again, more deeply, more arousing. Eyes devouring hers. Heavy-lidded and with one expression, one purpose, in them only.
‘Bed,’ he said. The single word was a husk and a growl, and a promise that made her insides melt.
