He kissed her, and this time it felt like he’d always been kissing her, like he’d been made to kiss her. His lips formed perfectly over hers. Hers formed perfectly under his. He tasted sinful, and he made her want to behave sinfully. Shockingly so. She kissed him back, relishing the taste of him and the feel of him, her body clamouring for more as she raked her fingers through his hair, as he angled her head to kiss her more deeply until a catcall from a passing soldier made them both jump. They stared at each other, her astonishment, her passion, reflected in his enlarged pupils, in the slash of colour across his cheeks.
They were alone in the square. ‘It’s late,’ Sheila said, aware that was somewhat obvious.
‘Oui.’
She could feel his breath, quick and uneven. He made no move to release her. ‘I should probably go,’ she said.
‘Vous êtes fatiguée?’
She had never felt less tired in her life. But to say so—she was under no illusions about what he would infer from that. Under no illusions, either, about what she wanted. Just a dance, only a kiss, and yet she had never felt so—so...
‘Vous êtes fatiguée.’
This time it was not a question but a statement. There could be no mistaking the disappointment in his voice. No mistaking the way her body clamoured, either. Was it the three years of locking herself away, or was it the atmosphere, or was it him? All of it, everything, though mostly him. She tried to remind herself of the salutary lesson she’d learned, but it seemed so far away and so irrelevant, tonight of all nights.
‘Non,’
Sheila said, before she could change her mind and flee,
‘je ne suis pas fatiguée, monsieur
.
’
He laughed, a low growl of a laugh that sent shivers running down her spine. ‘Luc,’ he said, ‘my name is Luc.’
‘
Et moi, je m’appelle
Sheila.’
‘Sheila,’ he repeated, smiling down at her wickedly.
‘Embrassez-moi encore.’ Kiss me again.
Chapter Two
H
e gave her no time to reply before pulling her into the shadow of a building on the corner of the square. This kiss made her blood roar, made her mind blank, set her skin on fire, left no room for rational thought. His tongue touched hers and she felt an answering shiver deep down in her belly. He leaned into her, pressing his body against hers, leaving her in no doubt as to the state of his arousal.
She angled her head back to deepen the kiss, and pulled him closer, sliding her hands under his tunic, digging her fingers into the taut muscles of his buttocks. They kissed until their breathing was ragged, but this time when he lifted his head and made to release her, she pulled him back, kissing him with a passion she didn’t know she possessed. She was kissing him because she didn’t want it to end, because she didn’t want to think about what that meant.
They had to stop just to catch their breath. Distant laughter from a shuttered bar echoed down the narrow street. ‘I have a room,’ he said urgently, ‘not far from here.’
Under any other circumstances she would have been appalled at such an assumption being made, but tonight, with this man—Luc, his name was Luc—she felt no need to pretend. His need was naked. So, too, was hers.
‘Oui,’
she said, taking his hand. ‘Let’s go there.’
* * *
He closed the door softly behind them. The room was an annex to a larger house, with its own entrance. An armchair, a table, bookcases, a bed, Sheila noticed vaguely as Luc turned on a lamp. Then he pulled her back into his arms, and she was leaning against the locked door and he was kissing her again.
The fire was out. The room was cold, but she didn’t feel it. Luc ran his hands down her arms, up from her waist to cup her breasts. She fumbled with the buttons of his tunic. He pulled it off, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor. Her own coat followed, and her cap. He threaded his hands through her hair, tugging it free of the pins that held it in place, spreading it out over her shoulders.
His thumbs caressed her nipples through the layers of her blue uniform dress and her underwear. She whimpered, tugging at his undershirt, and finally encountered his skin. She ran her hands up his back, relishing the way his muscles clenched.
Their kisses were wilder now. He fumbled with her belt and she yanked it off. She undid the buttons of her dress for him, eager for his touch. It slid to the floor. She kicked it away. He moaned, dipping his head to the swell of her bosom, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples into a tantalising, aching hardness.
‘
Mon Dieu,
I did not think— I have not— I did not intend...’ His breathing was laboured. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘If we do not stop now— If you want to stop, tell me now, because...’
She felt as if she was dangling on a precipice. She knew the risks she was taking, but she didn’t care. Not tonight. The world felt poised, balanced on the cusp of a new dawn, and while it was, only this existed in the gap in between. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted only this. ‘No,’ she said, and the word made her feel as if she was flying. ‘No,’ she repeated, more for herself than him. ‘I don’t want us to stop.’
He picked her up in his arms. The bed was narrow but high. He laid her down on the hard mattress and helped her slide out of her petticoat. When he took off her stockings, he kissed her ankles, her knees. Stepping back, he quickly removed the rest of his clothes. She did the same, tossing her brassière and knickers carelessly onto the floor. Now that she had abandoned herself, she felt utterly without shame, deliciously liberated.
He stood naked over her for a long moment, desire etched in his expression. His erection was thick, jutting up towards his belly. His body was lean and hard, just as she had imagined.
‘Que vous êtes belle,’
he whispered, then dipped his head to take her nipple in his mouth and sucked.
Heat enveloped her. She shivered, moaned and wrapped her legs around him. She was already on the edge. She leaned into the hard wall of his chest, feeling the roughness of his hair on her cheek, flattening her palms over his torso, his belly, round to his back and down to his buttocks.
He took her other nipple in his mouth. She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his erection. The skin was silky. She stroked him. He groaned and claimed her mouth again in the wildest of kisses. She stroked him again.
‘Attendez,’
he said urgently, leaving her side briefly to rake through a drawer in a chest over by the fire.
‘Standard issue,’ he said, returning with the condom, turning away from her to pull it on before joining her on the bed. ‘I had not thought I would have need of it.’
His fingers slid into her. He was lying half over her, his erection nudging into her side. His lips were on hers again. His fingers were stroking, sliding, stroking. She tensed, arching under him, her body alight, coiled, desperate for release. ‘Please,’ she begged, with an urgency that should have embarrassed her but didn’t.
She heard that low growling laugh again. He pulled her upright to sit on the edge of the bed while he stood in front of it, tilting her to wrap her legs around his waist before nudging his way inside her.
He was being both careful and gentle, but that was not what she wanted right now. She was only just clinging on. She dug her heels into his flanks. He thrust. She gasped, her muscles tensing around him as he pulled her tighter up against him, his hands under her buttocks, and thrust higher. She leaned back on her elbows and arched her spine, and he thrust higher again.
Her body was singing for release, but she didn’t want to let go. Not yet. She braced herself, and when he thrust again, she met him, arching upwards, drawing a long groan from him. He thrust again, and she found if she tilted her own body upwards he plunged even deeper.
His eyes were dark pools, focused on hers. She watched him, fascinated, enthralled by the reflection of every thrust on his face. She didn’t want it to end. She clung on, the frisson of each withdrawal so intense it was almost her undoing.
‘Mon Dieu,’
he gasped, his voice with a gravelly edge to it now. He was close. She could feel him swelling inside her, but still she held on. Then he slid his hand from under her buttocks and touched her, circling her, thrusting at the same time, and suddenly everything was pulsing and her climax ripped through her, making her cry out, shuddering, arching, clinging, tightening around him, and he cried out, too, a carnal, animalistic sound, as he came as wildly as she.
* * *
Panting, Luc withdrew. The woman on the bed was a picture of abandon, her golden hair splayed out behind her, her breasts rising and falling. He could not believe what they’d just shared. It felt quite unreal and at the same time, on a visceral level, as real as anything ever could feel. His body thrummed. He couldn’t remember feeling this alive since— No, he wasn’t going to try to remember, and besides, it had never been like this. He was astonished to discover, as he looked, that his body would very much like to repeat the experience. That was what four years’ abstinence did for you, he thought, dragging his eyes away and grabbing a towel to wrap around himself. Four years’ abstinence and a vibrant blonde and the end of the war.
‘I’m just going to...’ He headed for the door, and the bathroom, because if he stayed he would end up in bed with her, and though his body heartily approved, his mind was already wrestling with the consequences. He knew nothing about her. He had no doubt that she had wanted him every bit as much as he had wanted her, but he wasn’t at all sure how she’d feel now that their passion was spent. Or at least partially spent, he thought ruefully, looking down at his persistent hardness. He knew, because he couldn’t help overhearing the talk in the mess, that this sort of thing went on all the time among the staff, but never having indulged, he had no idea of the post-coital etiquette.
From wild elation, his spirits plummeted. Luc swore under his breath. Etiquette!
Sacre bleu,
he had just made love to a complete stranger, and he was worrying about etiquette. What had he been thinking? How could he have allowed himself to become so carried away? He should have stayed at the hospital. He should not have danced with her. He should not have kissed her. He should certainly not have brought her back here. Though honestly, truly, he couldn’t regret it. Blame it on the Armistice. Call it an aberration. Blame it on the girl. Not a girl, a woman. And he would not do that. All she had done was dance when he asked her. Kissed him back when he kissed her. Wanted him when he had wanted her.
No, he could not blame the girl. Woman. Sheila. Who was probably wondering where the hell he’d gone, maybe even thinking he’d abandoned her. Perhaps she knew more about how these things played out? No. Even in the heat of passion, her lack of experience was apparent. He was certain this was as much an aberration for her as it was for him.
Zut!
Confused and irritated with himself because he was, after all, a thirty-five-year-old man and not a callow youth, Luc made his way along the draughty corridor and back to his room.
* * *
Sheila was tightening the belt of her overcoat when the door opened. He—Luc—was still clad only in a towel, and it was a very small towel. A shocking image of her hands raking down that torso, of her legs wrapped around that waist, made her blush painfully. She dragged her eyes away from his body and snatched her cap from the floor. It was ruined. If Matron saw it— But she would make blooming sure that Matron didn’t see it.
‘You’re leaving?’
He spoke English with the most delightful accent. ‘Yes,’ Sheila said briskly. The truth was she was running away. The truth was she couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to get so carried away, and with a man she’d just met! It was a tiny consolation that she was unlikely ever to meet him again, that the backlash that had followed her last indiscretion would not be repeated. Not that the last time had been anything like this in any way. It made her burn up, just thinking about how wildly she had behaved. Mortified, she jammed her cap on, stuffing her hair up under it anyhow.
Luc was still standing at the door, blocking her exit. What was he thinking? Was he expecting her to stay? Had she broken some sort of unwritten rule by not being quick enough to make her escape while he deliberately lingered in the bathroom? She groaned inwardly. She had absolutely no idea, but she wasn’t about to betray her ignorance. Far better that he thought her a floozy, because then, on the off chance that he had a conscience, it wouldn’t bother him enough to seek her out to apologise. Though if anyone ought to apologise, it should be her. She had practically devoured the poor man. ‘Well,
bonne nuit
,’ she said, looking expectantly at the door.
‘It is almost morning.’
If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he sounded as confused as she felt. As if! To a man as lethally attractive as him, this sort of thing was probably commonplace. Though there had been that remark about the condom. Which meant nothing save that he most likely thought to flatter her. ‘Almost morning!’ Sheila pinned on one of her brightest smiles. ‘Then I’d better hurry. I’m due on duty at eight.’
Still, he blocked the door. The longer she remained here, with him half-naked and dishevelled, reminding her of just how shockingly she had behaved, the more embarrassed she became. It wasn’t just what she had done, it was that looking at him, her body became frightfully interested in doing it all again right now. That was another thing that had never happened before. Nice, pleasant, enjoyable, it had been, before her memories were coloured with the bitter aftertaste of how it had unfolded afterwards. Not a single one of those epithets could possible apply to what had just occurred between her and this man—Luc—on that narrow bed.
‘So this is
au revoir
?’
It wasn’t really a question. She’d be daft to think it was a question, and she wasn’t daft. Sheila nodded firmly. Finally, he stood away from the door, but as she made to pass him, he caught her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her close against his naked torso. Her legs brushed his naked legs. Underneath that scanty towel, he was naked. Naked. Naked. Naked. And...