Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
His words only intensified my blush. I could feel the warmth spreading down my neck, across my chest. “I… um… thank you for inviting me,” I stammered, desperate to change the subject.
Lucas’ lips curved into a knowing smile. “The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, his eyes never leaving my face. “Please, have a seat.”
He pulled out my chair with a gallant gesture, and I sank into it gratefully, my legs feeling suddenly unsteady. As Lucas took his own seat across from me, I couldn’t help but notice how the candlelight played across his chiseled features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the intensity in his gaze.
“I hope you don’t mind; I’ve ordered you an aperitif,” Lucas said, nodding toward the vintage crystal glasses filled with effervescent bubbles.
“How could I possibly mind?” I said, suddenly to my astonishment feeling light and playful.
As I lifted my flute, the crisp scent of the champagne wafted to my nose enticingly.
“To new beginnings,” Lucas said, raising his glass in a toast.
I raised my own glass a little, the fine crystal feeling delicate and expensive in my hand. Our eyes met over the rim as we sipped. The cocktail tasted like… well, like joy, sparkling and perfectly sweet on my tongue.
“New beginnings,” I said softly, lowering my eyes with another blush. “I need some of those, I think.”
CHAPTER 8
Lucas
I looked at Alice’s beautiful face, her eyes downcast to the table, and the simultaneous urges to care for her tenderly and to dominate her utterly vied in my heart and my body. I had never felt this way on a first date—but then again I had never gone out on a first date with a girl whose charming, clearly virginal, sweetly pink anus I had seen presented to my lustful gaze, offered to me in a salacious photo intended to attract a wealthy man’s attention.
Nor with one who I happened to know masturbated last night, perhaps—hopefully—thinking about me.
“Tell me more, won’t you?” I asked. The color in her cheeks had faded slightly, but now it came back as she looked up at me with a hesitant, tight little smile that clearly concealed a great deal.
“Can we just say that the sponsor I accepted yesterday didn’t work out?” Alice’s voice sounded to me like the music of a stream running through a sun-dappled clearing in the woods. She spoke French with just the slightest hint of an American accent, which just made her that much more alluring, from my perspective.
“Of course,” I assured her. For now, at any rate, ma chère. If this went further than dinner this evening—as I could already feel it doing—I would get the details, if I had to spank them out of her. “Tell me about your studies, then.”
Her face brightened, her smile becoming genuine. “They haven’t even started yet,” she said with a little laugh that sounded to me like a silver bell. “But I suppose I can tell you my hopes for them?”
She did, and of course I found them charming—rejuvenating even. Every educated Frenchman values his culture and its history; to find that passion reflected in a lovely young American quickly began to intoxicate me.
Appetizers arrived, with perfectly paired wine, then entrees, with their own pairing. I scarcely noticed, though Alice’s pleasure in what she tasted gratified me greatly. By the time dessert arrived, we were talking animatedly of the Abbots of Cluny, of the Cistercians, of Bernard of Clairvaux.
“I have a dark confession, Monsieur,” she said, her tone playful. “My apartment is within walking distance of the museum at the Hotel de Cluny, but I haven’t gone yet.”
“I wish I could take you,” I told her.
Alice frowned, and then understanding dawned. “Can you go nowhere?” she asked, with what seemed reflexive compassion.
“Not in public,” I told her, with a theatrical sigh. Then I spoke from sheer, reckless instinct. “But if my status means that I can support a girl like you, I cannot regret it much.”
Alice’s sweet blush returned in an instant, and she cast down her eyes once again. I watched as she fidgeted slightly with her napkin, clearly unsure how to respond to my rather bold statement. The urge to reach across the table and lift her chin, to make her meet my gaze, was almost overwhelming. But I restrained myself, allowing her a moment to compose her thoughts.
“That’s very kind of you to say,” she finally murmured, her voice soft. “But surely there are many girls more deserving of your support than me.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her. The modesty in her words contrasted beautifully with the provocative photos I’d seen in her profile. It was that dichotomy that had first drawn me to her—the innocent scholar with hidden depths of sensuality.
“I disagree,” I said firmly. “Your passion for history, your intelligence… these are rare and valuable qualities, Alice. And they deserve to be nurtured.”