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Authors: Celeste Anwar

Beauty Ravished (2 page)

BOOK: Beauty Ravished
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Her stomach growled.

She was going to give that gorgeous asshole hunk a piece of her mind when he came to bring her supper.

If
he came to bring her supper.

She realized after a little while that she was tired of sulking, and she was bored. Sighing, she decided to check out the bath. That’d be entertaining for at least ten or fifteen minutes.

There was a TV and a DVD player. She doubted, considering where they were, that the TV would pick up anything. Like she couldn’t watch frigging DVDs at home!

The bath was really luxurious. Despite her determination to feel abused, she felt her mood lighten a little when she saw it had a whirlpool. Adjusting the water, she left the tub filling and went back into the bedroom to rifle through the clothing she’d brought. She was irritated all over again when she saw the sexy undergarments she’d brought—just in case she ran into anyone interesting.

As
if
she was going to run into anyone locked in her room!

A twenty minute session in the whirlpool did wonders for her mood. By the time she finally crawled out, her muscles were like putty—not a tense one in her entire body. When she’d dried off, she pulled the under things on.

The under things consisted of a barely there thong and a nearly transparent bra.

She liked feeling ‘bad’.

Unfortunately, at the moment she felt more drained than like a femme fatale. Trudging back into the bedroom, she sprawled out on the bed and winked out like an extinguished light bulb.

She wasn’t certain what woke her. One moment she was dead to the world, the next she was conscious. Yawning, she rolled over and stretched, smiling faintly at the decadent feel of the thick, silk coverlet beneath her. Finally, reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

Nigel Francoeur was standing over her, a dainty tray with a dainty sandwich, obviously forgotten, in his hand.

The expression on his face sent a shock wave of heat through her. Her mouth went dry. Her nipples got hard.

His gaze moved to them as if he could see the transformation.

It was at that precise moment that it finally dawned on Cher that he
could
see the transformation. She was wearing her all-but-naked underwear and nothing else.

She jackknifed upright, glancing around for her clothes.

As if her sudden movement had finally broken the spell that had bound him, he set the tray down with a thud on the bedside table, turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

Cher stared after him with her jaw at half cock.

“Wait!” she managed to get out as he jerked the door open and started through.

He paused, looked back at her, his gaze brooding and dangerous.

Cher gulped. “Why did you lock me in?”

Something flickered in his eyes. A predatory smile curled his lips. “To keep the big bad wolf away,
chère
.”

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

He’d vanished, locking the door behind him before Cher recovered sufficiently to think of anything else to say. “Damn it!” she said, pounding her fist on the mattress angrily.

So much for giving him a piece of her mind!

She turned and glared at the sandwich. She
was
hungry. On the other hand, she hated wasting a good appetite on a cold sandwich when she knew damn good and well the guests were probably dining on … escargot or something like that.

Sighing, she picked up the sandwich and wandered to the window, looking down at the darkened landscape. A wedge of light filtered across the lawn from the back of the building—where she’d seen the pool. Dimly, she heard the sounds of a party.

After a moment, she set the sandwich down untouched and opened the window. Sure enough, she could hear loud music and loud voices. The alcohol must be flowing freely. They couldn’t have been at it long and already it sounded like they were having a wild time of it.

Disappointment flooded her. She should be out there. She deserved a vacation if anybody did!

Sighing, she stared down at the lawn speculatively, wondering if there was anyway to escape her elegant prison.

That was when she spied the trellis.

A smile curled her lips. Excitement began thrumming in her veins.

Abandoning her viewpoint abruptly, she searched through her bag until she found the slinky black dress she’d brought for partying. Was it too dressy, though? It looked like night club attire—which it was. And she
was
going to have to climb down the trellis to get to the party. Not that climbing down in a dress worried her, because it wasn’t like there was anybody around to see. The party was in the back.

The roses climbing the trellis might present a problem, though, and she really didn’t want to get her favorite black dress snagged. Reluctantly, she dropped it and dug out a pair of cut off jeans and a halter top.

Dashing into the bathroom, she did a quick make up job, combed her hair and checked out her reflection. Deciding she looked as well as could be expected on such short notice, she left the bathroom, grabbed up her sandals and studied them critically. Wear them? Go barefoot?

She didn’t relish the idea of climbing down a rose covered trellis barefoot. She wasn’t at all certain she could negotiate it in shoes, however. Finally, she decided she was just going to have to do battle with the rose canes if she wanted to party.

Nigel fucking Francoeur sure as hell wasn’t planning on letting her have any fun!

Moving to the window once more, she struggled with the screen and finally managed to get it off. Unfortunately, she dropped it. “Shit!” she exclaimed, leaning out the window to look down at the screen on the ground below.

Sighing irritably, she tossed her sandals out. She didn’t know how she was going to get the damn screen back up, but she decided she’d worry about that later.

Hoisting a leg over the sill, she felt around with her toe until she found a V in the trellis. Slowly, she eased her weight down on it, listening for a telltale crack that would mean disaster. It seemed to be holding, however, and after a moment, she leaned her weight on the window sill and worked her other leg out, clinging to the molding while she felt around for another foothold.

Her heart was in her throat by that time, threatening to suffocate her. She swallowed with an effort. “Whoo hoo!” she muttered weakly. “Par-ty!”

Her legs felt like cooked spaghetti. Ignoring the sensation, she allowed herself to slip slowly over the sill while she searched for another foothold below the one she had. It took her almost fifteen minutes to work herself loose from the window sill. Finally, she focused on her fingers and uncurled them from the molding and placed one hand on the trellis, and then the other, closing her eyes.

When the trellis didn’t immediately utter an ominous crack and separate from the wall, she began working her way downwards.

She knew how a Chihuahua felt. Every muscle in her body seemed to be trembling, with both strain and abject terror.

She was nearly halfway down the trellis before she encountered the rose bush.

She yelped, but the noise of the party had grown to such proportions, she seriously doubted anyone heard anything. Nudging the thorny cane out of the way, she managed to negotiate her way down another few feet before she realized the bush was so thick there was no way in hell she was going to be able to climb over it without looking like she’d just been through a meat grinder.

Turning her head, she stared down at the ground, trying to decide just how far it was. It still looked like a long way down, but she thought she probably wasn’t that high. Rose bushes didn’t really grow that tall—she didn’t think.

She almost lost her grip and fell off when she looked up to see how far she was from the window. It scared her so badly, all she could do was cling to the trellis for several minutes and quake like a Chihuahua on cocaine.

Finally, she took several calming breaths and slowly turned. She wasn’t about to jump backwards!

She couldn’t turn completely around either.

Deciding that the longer she delayed the more likely she was to completely lose her nerve, she closed her eyes, counted to ten and leapt. Miraculously, she landed on her feet. Unfortunately, the impact shot pain through her feet as if she’d landed on a bed of nails. Yelping, she surged upward, pin wheeled, and landed on her ass—right in the middle of the window screen.

“Shit!”

A dark shadow fell over her.

She looked up guiltily—right into the unsmiling face of Nigel Francoeur.

Nigel glared at the woman, infuriated by her recklessness. Surging forward, he grabbed her beneath the arms, hauling her to her feet and shoving her against the wall just past the thick rose bush.

“Hey!” she gasped as he stood her up. He blocked her with one arm when she tried to move past him. She turned in the other direction and he brought his other arm up, locking her in place.

She sank back against the wall, glaring at him, but her eyes widened when he leaned forward. “You can’t begin to imagine how far out of your depth you are here,
petite
. I’ve neither the time nor the patience to play games with you, but I will tell you this—you put yourself in danger to defy me.”

It was actually probably the stupidest thing that she’d ever done in her life, next to coming in the first place—and the only time she’d ever been stupid enough to do anything like that. Somehow, however, the invasion of her personal space and the threat in his stance, his voice, and his words made her react instinctively to the threat, rather than rationally. She slapped him.

She was horrified the moment she did.

She was more horrified when she saw the heat that blazed in his eyes.

Before she could do more than gasp in an instinctual gulp of air to scream, he enveloped her mouth with his own in an assault of such savage hunger her heart felt as if it was going to beat itself to death against her rib cage. She managed a whimper of distress before his tongue invaded her mouth and assaulted her senses with his taste, with the essence that was him—primal, savage, wild—and her brain simply overheated and shut down. She felt as if she had stepped off unwarily into a vortex of fiery, carnal need that was sucking her down into an abyss of blackness.

When he withdrew, he was gasping hoarsely, his eyes glittering with raw need, his body shaking with the effort to hold it in check.

Cher found that she was trembling with weakness, so dizzy and disoriented she was certain if she hadn’t been braced against the wall she would have wilted to the ground like a deflating rubber doll the moment he released her.

Before she could gather her wits about her, he grasped her and tossed her over his shoulder. The impact of his broad shoulder on her belly knocked the breath from her, effectively rousing her from her stupor. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, trying to lever herself upright.

Instead of answering, he gave her a resounding slap on the ass.

That stunned her with outrage long enough that he’d hooked a foot on the trellis before she realized what his intention was. The gasp, begun in outrage, ended in a squeak of sheer terror as he scaled the trellis with stunning agility and the ground dropped away from her bulging eyes.

Her reentry through the window was far more terrifying than her exit had been. Even worse, he stepped through the window behind her.

She stared at him warily for several moments. He still looked incredibly dangerous, and—her feeble mind informed her—sexy. Or maybe it was only that she could still feel his mouth? Taste him?

It pissed her off almost as much as the fact that he’d scared the living shit out of her. “You can not keep me a prisoner in this damned room!” she snarled at him.

His eyes narrowed. His face hardened. “Have you listened to nothing that I have said?”

She glared back at him. “What? The ‘Stay! Sit! Down!’ commands you’ve been issuing? I’m getting mixed signals here,” she said sarcastically.

He took a step toward her. She stepped back without even thinking about it. “Look! Why don’t we just call a truce, huh? I mean, I can see I probably shouldn’t have come, but, honestly, I didn’t see that there’d be a problem—anyway, I’m here now and I can’t go back until the ferry comes, so.…” She broke off when she bumped into the door. She didn’t have to look around. The door knob hit her in the middle of the back.

She stepped to one side. He matched her side step, placing a palm against the door and blocking her retreat. Before she could try to side step in the other direction, his heat enveloped her as he leaned toward her, crowding her.

She pressed her back against the door, but she had no where to go. Before she quite knew what was happening, she felt the pressure of his body against her entire length. His cock felt like a burning log against her belly—huge and hot. It took an effort to catch her breath as he undulated his body against hers—tipping his hips up and forward so that that rock hard length of mind blowing flesh bumped her mound, sending sparks of heat through her—brushing his chest across hers so that her nipples were trying to drill holes in his hard pecs. Wet heat instantly saturated her labia, as if her body sensed that he would pound into her at any moment.

Just the though of enveloping that thickness inside her made her inner muscles spasm with pleasure.

He dipped his head and she thought she might actually pass out as the heat of his breath fanned across her face. Her lips tingled, as if she could already feel the pressure of his mouth. Her mouth watered as she remembered the feel and taste and texture of his tongue. She swallowed convulsively.

“You’re asking for something,
chère
, that you may not want,” he murmured huskily, his lips almost, but not quite, brushing against hers, his heated gaze making promises that had her pussy quaking in anticipation.

Abruptly, he stepped back. She gaped at him in surprise and disappointment.

Something flickered in his eyes. He frowned, looking away. “I’ll be putting you on the first ferry Monday morning,” he said, his voice sounding harsh with disuse. “Until then, sit tight.”

BOOK: Beauty Ravished
13.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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