A Late Summer Bloom (18 page)

On and on she went, until finally, Julien’s body was healed. His face,
the only place left untouched, was her ultimate goal. Inching up the small
incline at the edge of the pool, their height more equal, Giselle laced her
fingers in his hair. Placing her hands at the back of his head, she gently
pulled him close. Cheek to cheek, forehead to forehead, she gladly took every
mark, leaving only a small abrasion near his lips.

She cupped the water in her hands, splashing it over her face. Once she
was healed, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “One more spot, Julien. Then
you’ll be healed.”

Her nipples tightened with the thought of kissing him. Heat rushed to
her face, and dampness gathered between her thighs, as she shook with a
ferocity of passion she’d never felt before.

With his arms straight down at his sides, he let out a low growl of
warning when she slid her hands over his pectorals. Enamored by his taut skin
and defined muscles, she let herself explore his biceps. Gently running her
hands up his arms to his shoulders, she let her fingers rest on his neck. Feeling
his pulse quicken, her heart rate sped up to match its rhythm. He said nothing,
but his tightened jaw proved his anxiety. With features that were straight and
perfectly aligned, he reminded her of a mythical creature for whom statues were
carved.

With trembling hands she entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled
him to her. “I’m going to kiss you, Julien.”

Before he could protest, she pressed her lips to his, clearly taking
him by surprise. She felt his hesitation, but within seconds he returned her
affection. Without warning, happy tears welled in hers eyes as her kiss was
reciprocated. But this kiss was different than the one before. It was soft and
slow, simmering her insides.

As the intensity of their connection grew, Julien’s tongue plundered
her mouth. Moaning with unbridled enthusiasm, his hands cupped her ass cheeks
pressing his throbbing erection to her vagina.

Their exploration took on more urgency. Pure bliss pulsated through her
veins, making her gasp for breath as he took what she gave so freely. When he
broke the kiss, his eyes looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Something
about him was different. The lines of his face seemed softer when he looked at
her with—
love?
Pulling her by the
hand, even his touch was
more gentle
. He scooped her
in his arms, carrying her out of the pools and laid her down on thick warm
blankets.

His smile was infectious and she was sure something had changed in him.
Was it the kiss?
H
mm.
I wonder
. Julien ran his hand down the
center of her breasts. “Are you sure about this? I’m just an ordinary witch.”

Surprised by his assessment, she touched his cheek. “You’re far from
ordinary. You’ve captured my heart. I—” Stopping short of professing her love
for him she pulled him close, but he resisted.

“Say it. Please.”

Her mind was scared to admit her feelings to him, but her heart was
sure. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Julien.”

Mindful of his reaction, she was surprised when he let out a sigh of
relief. He moved his body over her, his weight resting on his forearms. “A
friend once told me, when you fall in love, colors will become more vibrant,
simple sounds become a symphony and sex becomes the nourishment of the soul.
When a true love rushes into your heart, it crashes with the force of an ocean
wave in a ferocious storm. I can’t explain it except to say—it has. I feel it
deep inside. I’ve felt empty for so long—until now. I love you, Giselle.”

A tear slid down her cheek. It was the moment she’d always dreamed of. “You
were right. Being in love is so much better.”

           
“Every woman should be in love for
their first experience.” Julien’s mouth covered hers.
 

His tongue, needy
at first, slowed to a gentle caress. His heavy breaths slowed to a steady
rhythm. His hands explored her body with expertise, as if wanting to commit
every curve to memory, and he made her body soar. His soft lips inched down her
skin, igniting a path of passion in their wake.

           
Julien brushed the hair away from
her face. “This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

           
Steady hands moved over her body, his
caress gentle and exploratory. He adjusted his position, gently pressing his
body over hers. She shifted, allowing him to rest in between her legs. He
kissed her, lightly licking her top lip. Slowly tracing his mouth over her
chin, down her neck to her aching breasts, he closed his mouth over her nipple.

           
The exquisite feeling had her moaning,
arching her back, pushing her breasts up to meet his lips. He switched to the
other breast, lathing her nipple before he nipped the sensitive flesh, making
her yelp.

           
The slowness of his movements were
agonizing, her body anxious for more. Julien licked up the center of her
breasts, while moving his hips, rubbing his hardness over her mound.

           
The simple act of mimicking being
inside her had her clawing his skin. Silently begging for him to take her, she
pushed her hips up, grinding into his groin.

           
When their eyes locked, he gently
aligned his cock to her opening. “I love you, Giselle.” Then, he cautiously pushed
inside her softness, making her scream out. Never taking his eyes from hers, he
stilled inside her, studying her face. He began to pull out, only to push back
in, each time a little more forceful. His thrusts became faster, more urgent.
Her pussy throbbed, stretching to accommodate him. The more he moved, the more
the painful sensation gave way to pleasure, until she felt her nerves bundle
together in a tight coil. When she felt her body ready to let go, she fisted
her hands in Julien’s hair bringing his mouth crashing onto hers as she
experienced her first orgasm.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Desiree Mercier sat on a stool at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar for the
third night in a row. Although it was dark inside, the atmosphere was fun,
eclectic, and smelled of whiskey and bourbon. Not knowing why she was drawn to
it, she came back night after night, as if it held the answers to her life’s
mystery. A few days ago, all she could think about was her true calling. It was
exciting to have discovered what she could do. The possibilities were endless
with the talent she possessed. But prying on her mind more and
more,
was Simon
Granvil
. She
wanted to reach out to him but, didn’t know how to.

The traveler consumed her thoughts, making her question her very
existence. Was she in fact the reincarnation of Aimee
Granvil
?
It’s preposterous!
There must be some
other explanation, yet the coincidences gave her pause. Wanting to forget her
current dilemma, she called out to the bartender. Getting to know him was easy.
The good looking, strapping, muscled man had just what she needed to make her forget
all about Simon.

“Hey, Louie.
Down here.” She waved him over, her bangle bracelets
clanging together. Louie strode over, flashing his most devious smile. She
nearly fainted as he showed off his pearly whites. “
Mmm
.
Louie you’ve got what I need and I need it now.”

Louie laughed. It was a high-pitched chuckle for such a manly man.
“I’ve gotten to know you pretty well these last few nights, Desiree. Not only
do I have what you want, it’s all ready for you and behind this bar just
waiting for you to part your lips and—”

“Louie!
Désespérée
flirt!” His wife shouted to him. “Can’t you see I’m working twice as hard?”

With a grin on his handsome face, Louie handed her the drink she
ordered every night.

Desiree stifled a giggle. “Your wife thinks you are a hopeless flirt,
Louie.” His grin morphed into a full blown smile that made her press her thighs
together.
Damn, that man could melt ice
in the Antarctic.
But she secretly wondered
,
if
Louie wasn’t married, would she think he was so great? All her life she dated
men without serious intentions. And if they were possessive, she’d run for the
hills. Yet, Simon had her wanting all the things she once shunned. Why?

Paulette, Louie’s wife passed her on her way to behind the bar. She was
no slouch, either. Shoulder length blond hair, green eyes, and a body that
could be on the cover of a magazine. Desiree held up her drink in a hail to
Paulette. “You are one lucky woman, Pauli.” Paulette rolled her eyes and
sauntered over. “You must let me fill you in one of these days.”

Leaning over the bar, Pauli dropped a little signature umbrella into
her drink. “See, Desiree? It’s the little things he forgets. But a man who
remembers the little things is a rare find.”

Desiree narrowed her eyes.
“Hey Pauli?
Have
you ever heard of the name
Granvil
?”

She scrunched up her face, looking deep in thought and nodded. “The
name sounds familiar. Hmm, let me think.”

When a loud crash interrupted Paulette’s concentration, she shook her
head in disgust. “Excuse me. There may be a brawl brewing in my bar. I’ll be
back.”

Desiree laughed watching Paulette march her way out from behind the bar,
only to be stopped by Louie. He tried to plant a kiss on his wife’s mouth, and Desiree
watched her struggle, then surrender. She nodded her head.
Yep. That Pauli is one lucky woman
.

As she sipped her drink, Desiree savored the taste of the sweet juices
combined with the sting of the alcohol. Knowing she was making a bad habit of
drinking every night, it somehow gave her comfort. She placed the drink on the
bar and was startled by a familiar voice behind her.

“Howdy, miss? How you been?”

She blinked in surprise, slapping her hand on the bar with a loud thud.
She snapped her fingers. “Hey, you’re Colt right?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Hey, Louie, bring my friend Colt here a drink.
So?
Where is your harem tonight?”

Laughing, he answered. “They all went back to the motel. We’re part of
a sightseeing tour. Our bus will be leaving day after tomorrow.”

Louie opened the top of a beer and placed it on the bar.

Colt picked up his beer. “Much obliged, Ma’am.” He picked up her drink
and handed it her.

She smiled. “Well, it’s nice to see you again. Cheers.” They clicked
their drinks. Desiree took a big swallow.
So much for nursing my drink.

After a few minutes of chatter about the sights Colt visited in the
city, Desiree’s vision became distorted. When she stepped off of the bar stool,
her knees buckled. Colt grabbed her by the arm. “You okay?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index fingers, she
closed her eyes. “I—I’m fine. I think I need to go home. It was nice seeing you
again, Colt. Have a safe trip home.”

“Let me see you home, Miss Desiree. You don’t look so good.”

Colt had her by the elbow as he guided her out of the bar. Tripping
over her own feet, she giggled, “I just might be drunk.”

“I’d say so, ma’am. Three hurricanes each night must have added up.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Desiree shook her head, desperate to clear her mind. Something wasn’t
right. She hated this feeling. When Colt guided her down an alley, she stopped.
Her feet felt like they were caught in sludge as her eyelids grew heavy. “Where
are you taking me?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I just think you need a breather. It must have been
the shots you mixed in between the hurricanes.”

As if she were struck over the head, Desiree lifted her eyes to meet
his deceitful smile, “That.
Was.
Last.
Night.”

“Well, I guess I done got caught, huh?”

“What have you done? Who are you?”

“I’m sorry, miss.” Colt tipped his hat to her. “They said they wouldn’t
hurt you, just needed to ask a few questions.”

“And you believed them? You don’t know anything. Don’t leave me here.
Please.”

“I had no choice, Ma’am. I’m not a valiant cowboy who can ride you off
into the sunset. I know what they are. And I don’t know how to beat them.”

“You know? How? Are you witch or warlock?”

“Huh?”

“Forget it. Colt, you must lead me out of this alley. I can’t seem to
be able to—”

And then the blackness came.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Giselle lay in Julien’s arms, running her hands all over his body,
committing him to memory. His eyes were closed, but he wore a slight smile. When
she spotted a small tattoo on his left bicep, she looked closer, tracing it with
her fingertip. It was old, faded.

“I got that when I was twelve.” He said, without opening his eyes.

She looked up at him. “Twelve? I think that’s rather young, even for a
witch. Why would you do such a thing?”