The Night That Started It All. Anna Cleary

      Shards of moonlight illuminated the walls. Shari indicated the way, stumbling once on the stairs. Luc took her arm to steady her.

      She didn’t speak, just turned her breathless gaze to him. Even in the dim light his eyes were burning. Her blood ran hot in her breasts, fanned fire between her legs.

      They finished the climb to the loft. She was trembling again, in the grip of something more elemental now than mere nerves. She faced him, aflame.

      He pulled her to him. This kiss was a rough and hungry collision, his tongue in her mouth, possessive, lustful, his hands in her hair, moulding her shoulders, unfastening her bra. She dragged at his shirt and fumbled to release the buttons, avid to feel his naked skin beneath her palms.

      With the mingled scents of aftershave, wine and man rising giddily in her head, she thrilled as he stroked her breasts. Then his mouth closed over her nipple and the blaze in her blood roared. She sobbed in deep quivering breaths as he slipped his hand inside her pants, caressing, stroking her engorged sex until she swooned with ecstasy.

      Then he slid a finger inside her and massaged, sending waves of erotic pleasure thrilling through her burning flesh. She rocked against his hand, maddened, desperate.

      ‘Oh,’ she groaned, clinging to his shoulders. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’

      To her intense disappointment his hand paused. She felt his hot breath on her neck.

      ‘I don’t have any protection with me,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Do you have anything?’

      ‘What? What?’ She could hardly believe her ears, but the exigency of the moment must have jerked her memory, because she dredged up an image of a thin emergency package in the deepest reach of her purse.

      Maybe fate or the devil were on her side, for, scrabbling among the debris, her fingers located the precious article. She held up the battered package.

      ‘Here,’ she breathed in triumph.

      She saw his eyes as he snatched it from her. Their focused, hungry gleam incited such an intense and burning heat in her, such an inferno of responsive lust, she could barely wait for him to sheathe himself.

      Swiftly it was done.

      She clung to him and locked her legs around his waist. Then he thrust his virile length inside her again and again, filling her up, stroking the inner walls of her yearning, burning flesh. It was good, so, thrillingly, shudderingly good.

      As she felt his fabulous hardness inside her her passion escalated out of control and she zoomed to an extreme and explosive climax. Her first during the actual act. Fantastically, his tumultuous spill happened almost at the same time, groans of release shuddering through his big frame while pleasure rayed through her bloodstream like light.

      He held her close to his beating heart, crushing her damp breasts, his hot breath fanning her ear. She felt shattered, and bathed in jubilation. She needed to pinch herself. So this was what all the shouting was about.

      Of course she couldn’t rely on it happening every time. It might even have been a fluke, brought on by the forbidden aspects of the scene.

      Even so, it was such a precious moment. For a wild minute she adored Luc Valentin. Felt pretty sure she would adore him and this boathouse for the rest of her life.

      ‘We should go back,’ she breathed into his ear at last. ‘We don’t want to be missed.’

      He held her away from him, his dark gaze urgent, compelling. ‘Come with me to the hotel. We’ll have a little supper and enjoy each other properly. You will come?’ He gazed at her, then kissed her. ‘Bien sûr you will.’

      Excited, relieved, she hardly knew what she said. ‘Oh. Well … who can resist a little supper? I’ll have to say goodnight to Neil and Em, though, you know. Otherwise they’ll wonder …’

      His mouth was grave, though his eyes gleamed. ‘No, we don’t want them to wonder.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      SHARI slipped from the downstairs bathroom, anticipation bubbling in her veins. Luc was across the hall, waiting. Like her, he was spruced again, as immaculate as if their stolen encounter had never happened.

      She started towards him just as Emilie emerged from the dining room. They both halted, Luc backing into a convenient doorway before he was noticed.

      ‘Oh, chérie,’ Emilie exclaimed. ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you. What’s happening with Rémy? Where is he?’

      Shari hesitated and glanced past her to see if Luc had heard. Her heart lurched when she saw his expression. He was staring at her, his eyes sharply alert.

      ‘Well, he … I—I—I don’t know for certain.’ In a low voice Shari added, ‘He’s gone away, I think. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, I promise.’

      But Emilie wasn’t to be fobbed off. ‘You don’t know? Come on, Shari, something is going on. We haven’t seen either of you for months. He’s your fiancé. You should know. What game is he playing with you, chérie?’

      As she felt the blistering intensity of Luc’s concentrated gaze on her face Shari’s guilty cheeks burned. ‘Tomorrow, Em. I’ll tell you everything. I promise.’

      Emilie looked as if she was about to insist, but some other people burst into the hall, laughing, from the dining room, and she compressed her lips. She threw up her hands and exclaimed in a lowered voice, ‘It’s always something with him. When will he ever—? D’accord, Shari. Tomorrow. Don’t forget. I won’t sleep until I know.’ She hurried away to her guests.

      Luc waited until they were alone, then bore down upon Shari, his eyes glittering danger. She felt an involuntary pang of alarm.

      Resisting an impulse to back against the wall, she stood her ground. ‘I know what you must be thinking,’ she said in a hurried murmur. ‘It’s not how it looks. I can explain.’

      ‘Of course you can.’ His voice was smooth as silk and laced with sarcasm. ‘You are engaged to my cousin.’ His eyes were hard and accusatory. ‘That was you in his apartment.’

      ‘Shh,’ she whispered, glancing towards the nearby dining room. ‘Yes, yes, it was me, but no, I’m not his fiancée. Not any more. The engagement, such as it was, has been broken for weeks. Months.’

      ‘Then how is it Emilie doesn’t know? Your sister-in-law?’ He looked incredulous.

      ‘Well … I—put off telling them. Rémy’s her brother, Neil’s my brother …’ She spread her hands. ‘Em has had difficulties with her pregnancy and … She’s so attached to Rémy, and any bad news is bad for her blood pressure. Rémy talked me into keeping quiet because he wanted to break the news himself.’ She grimaced. ‘He’s probably dead scared of some of the things I might tell them.’

      ‘What things?’ His dark eyes were stern.

      She glanced at him, then darted a glance towards the living room. ‘This isn’t a good place to talk. I’ll explain more when we’re alone.’ She slipped her hand into her purse and grabbed her mobile. ‘Do you have your own wheels, or shall I phone for a cab?’

      ‘A moment.’ He raked her with his eyes, then turned sharply away from her as if the very sight were deadly. He crooked an elbow over his eyes, shading them from some dangerous glow she emitted. His voice sounded as if it were being wrenched from the centre of the earth. ‘This—break-up. Just how recent is it?’

      ‘I said. I told you …’ Her voice faltered a little. She could see where he might be headed with this. ‘Not that recent.’

      ‘How recent?’

      She started to feel annoyed at his tendency to fire questions like bullets. ‘Well, officially I gave the ring back a