Black Diamonds (14 page)

Travelling over her body, his appreciative gaze became something more arousing. “Oh yes, you passed. I’m happy you came to France, Jacaranda.”

“So am I.” She hesitated, came clean. “You’ve probably realised I was reluctant. You cornered me, you know.”

His teeth flashed. “I wanted you to come to the truffle festival for the sake of your business, but I could also see you needed a rest, a change.”

“I didn’t realise how much until I got here; the change of scenery, but most of all, someone to talk to. Not many people understand the truffle business. I’ve felt utterly alone with it. I appreciated your advice in the car about my farm. Thank you, Xavier.”

“You don’t need to thank me. We are neighbours after all—in Australia at least.” With a searching look he asked, “So, have you decided? Are you going to—what is that Australian expression I heard? Are you going to ‘go for it’ this year?”

“Yes, I am. I’ve thought about what you said. I’ve decided you’re right. I’m going to do as you suggest. For Paradise Truffle Farm this year, it’s black diamond, or broke.”

The brandy shone as he raised his glass. “Then here’s to Paradise Truffle Farms and black diamonds.
Salut
.”

Lifting her own, she replied, “
Salut
. To black diamonds.” With another deep breath, she added, “Or perhaps we should drink to white diamonds instead.”

As soon as she said white diamonds, Xavier’s hand tightened around the stem of his brandy glass. “I want you to take all the time you need, Jacaranda. I’d hate you to be uncertain,” he said.

Her heart began to pound. “You’re the one who told me to relax, to go with the flow.”

“Did I say go with the flow?” He grinned. “I’ve started using your Australian expressions.”

Laying her brandy glass aside she moved towards him. As she laid her hand against his chest she could feel his heart beat as fast as hers. “It’s pretty international,” she whispered. “And I think I can do it, if I set my mind to it.”

He too set his glass aside. “Do you?”

“Yes. I don’t need any more time.”

“You’d like your truffle tonight?”

Jackie smiled. “
Oui
.”

Xavier’s bedroom wasn’t what Jackie had expected. Then again, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected in the master suite of a French chateau. Dimly lit as it was with green shaded lamps on brass stands, she’d anticipated the antiquity of the highly polished furniture, the heavy red brocade drapes, the massive, wooden four poster bed, and the priceless tapestry rugs beneath her feet, but not the sense of intimacy.

Then she realised: it wasn’t the bedroom. It was Xavier; the way he looked at her. He stood by the crackling fire, his strong jaw profiled in the firelight. It was his glance that made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. He gave her his total attention, as focused as an arrow, and the effect was overwhelming. Overwhelming—and extraordinarily sensual, she thought with a gulp, as in turn she focused on him, in his loose white shirt and dark trousers. He’d showered, she noted. Beads of water still clung around the hair at the base of his neck.

On a highly polished table next to the bed was a tray holding their refilled brandy glasses, and a silver dome. Crossing the room, her dress whispered against her legs. She pointed to the dome. “Is that what I think it is?” Her voice came out hoarse.

Xavier nodded. “
Mais oui
.”

With a flourish he lifted the silver lid. “
Voila
.” He laughed. “So much fanfare, for a mere mushroom.”

“Oh, it’s more than a mushroom.” It lay unadorned on a pristine white plate. Jackie reached over and stroked it with her finger. She’d never had the chance to study a white truffle up close before. A yellowish colour, rather than pure white, it had the same bulb shaped head as a black truffle, with its uneven shape, like the surface of a walnut.

Xavier raised a sardonic brow. “I assumed you’d want it naked.”

“Naked?”

His laugh sounded wicked. “In the raw.”

“Oh, raw. Actually, I prefer truffles that way.”

“Ah. You’re practically French.” Slipping off his shirt, he moved behind her. She could feel the definition of his muscles and the heat of his bare skin through the fabric of her dress as she leant back into his arms.

“You must know that all true
gourmets
eat their truffles raw,” he whispered in her ear.

Jackie could barely speak as spirals of pleasure began to curl inside her. “Yes, I know.”

Pulling her harder against him, his breath fanned her neck at the sensitive place he’d found the night before. Was it only yesterday he’d blindfolded her? It seemed a lifetime ago.

“Do you desire it?”

“Yes.” Her single word came out a sigh.

As his lips nuzzled her flesh the roller coaster started in her stomach. “So you think it will meet with your satisfaction?”

She closed her eyes, trying not to moan aloud. “How could it not?”

“Some things don’t always meet our expectations,” he murmured.

“I think it will,” she managed to say as his teeth began to bite into her skin.

Just as she couldn’t take any more, he spun her around to face him. Still embraced in his arms, she pressed her lips against his strong neck and breathed him in. The first time they’d met she’d wondered if he had truffles running through his veins. There was something like truffles, deep, earthy and powerful, in his masculine musky scent. She could have inhaled him forever.

With one finger he lifted her chin.

Kiss me
, her mind begged him silently,
kiss me
. Instead, the teasing tip of his tongue traced the circle of her open lips, tantalising her, never going inside. Her stomach flipped.

With a smile he drew back. “Your lips make it hard for me to want to taste anything else. But the truffle …”

Releasing her from his hold, he took up the small, fruit knife lying on the tray next to the plate.

The silver glistened in the lamplight as he held it out to her. “Do you want to do the honours?”

She shook her head, her whole body trembling. She didn’t trust her shaking hands with a knife.

“Then allow me.”

Expertly, he peeled back the outer skin. The first slice he made was precise. A sliver of the truffle fell to the side, revealing the veined whiteness within.

Balancing it on the knife, he held it out to her.

Without breaking eye contact she took the truffle in her fingers, and dropped it on her tongue.

The taste was familiar, much like any other black truffle, Jackie thought at first, almost disappointed. Then it hit her, like the second note of a fragrant perfume, or a good wine, an unusual delicacy to its taste, something stronger and deeper she hadn’t ever tasted in black truffles.

A gasp seeped from between her lips. “Ahhh.”

Xavier curved his lip in satisfaction. “You like it.”

She swallowed. “It’s delicious. Aren’t you going to have some?”

With a nod, he sliced another pale sliver, and took it in his mouth straight from the edge of the sharp knife. “It’s good, but there’s something that would make it even better.”

He took another sliver of truffle between his teeth. She heard the knife fall and clatter on the tray, but she didn’t see it. Mesmerised by his eyes as he came towards her, her lips parted of their own accord, as he laid the truffle on her tongue.

The taste of him combined with the white truffle engulfed her. She shut her eyes in a swoon of hunger, a half groan escaping as she bit down to release the flavour. She reached for him, grabbing hold of his hair to pull him closer, wanting him, needing more of that taste to fill her mouth. Her tastebuds went wild, the truffle sliding down her throat at the same time as his searching hands found the hem of her dress, his needy fingers pushing it up her bare thighs.

Clasping her from behind with cupped hands, the force of his desire hardened along with the pressure on her lips, fuelling her wild need for him.

He lifted his head and took a ragged breath. “
Mon Dieu
, Jacaranda …”

“Don’t stop, Xavier, please,” she pleaded, her hands still in his hair, as she pulled his lips towards her.

“I don’t want to go too fast for you.”

“I want you to go fast,” she whispered with her lips against his mouth.

His breath fanned her lips. “You’re sure?”

Her heart raced. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“It might just be the white truffle.” He gave a wicked half glimmer of a smile. “They’re aphrodisiac, after all.”

Stunned at her boldness she slipped off her dress, and stepped back to let it drop to the floor, revealing her purple lace bra and panties. “It’s not the truffle.”

He groaned as she stood there, letting him study her. She’d never felt so proud of her body before. Perhaps it was a French thing. After all, he’d told her when they first met that Frenchmen knew how to appreciate women.

A giggle escaped as she reached for his belt.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Something amuses you?”

As she released the buckle she sent him a teasing smile in reply. “I was wondering if what they say about French men is true.”

“And what do they say?”

“That they make the best lovers.”

“
Mais oui
. But of course,
c’est vrai
, that’s true.” His gaze became hooded as she slipped the belt loose.

“Because you appreciate women?”

His hand closed over hers. “It’s you I appreciate, Jacaranda. You.”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat as he shrugged off his trousers, leaving only his black undershorts. She felt his power straining against her as he held her close to release the clasp of her bra. Still tantalising, he moved his hands around to caress her nipples, turning them hard before travelling downwards. At the edge of her panties he stopped, his finger sliding under its lace edge to find her centre.

His lips stopped her open mouth as she exhaled into him, his tongue as searching as his finger below. Dizzy with desire, her legs buckled. In a swift, single movement he shifted and she fell back against the bed, his lips still holding hers as with one hand he ripped the scrap of silk away.

With the same urgency she reached to release him. She wanted him, needed him inside her, now.

But he moved his lower body out of reach. “Wait. I want to taste you.”

She clenched; her body closing like a shell.

He stopped. “What is it,
cherie
?”

Embarrassment burned up her chest and flooded her cheeks. “I … I’ve never liked …”

Running his hand through his hair, he fell back on his heels and surveyed her. “Ahh.”

Struggling up against the pillows, Jackie pushed her hair against her hot face, flushing even deeper with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. But it is like having a main course without an
entree.
I desire you. All of you.”

Tears burned her eyes. She turned her head away. All she wanted to do was run away and hide.

“Jacaranda. Look at me.”

A sob formed at the back of her throat as she looked up at him. To her surprise she saw tenderness in his eyes as well as desire. Her panic began to subside.

“Will you let me make love to you as you should be made love to? Do you trust me enough?”

“I do trust you, but—”

“If you trust me there are no buts.”

She couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come. No man had ever reassured her in such a way before.

“Remember the wine taste test,” he whispered, leaning down, “Remember how I warned you that you might enjoy it? Trust me again.”

“I remember …”

“Trust me … trust me …” Teasing her with his tongue, his warm mouth moved down her neck, finding more sensitive places she hadn’t known existed, and on to the taut peaks of her breasts. Pleasure began to soar and dive in her again, but she couldn’t help tensing as his dark head lowered between her thighs, parting them further with his hands.

Then it came. The first tremor of desire shocked her, building with each dart of his knowing tongue. Still she fought to keep control as his hands glided up the sides of her body to find her breasts, toying with her nipples. The double effect of his hands and tongue contracted and released within her, as a coil inside sprang open. Her thighs sloped outwards as if they were no longer under her command, but his.

His tongue pierced deeper, flickering as her passion built. With a cry she came in a huge shudder of pleasure, followed by another, vibrating through her whole body. Shock as well as aftershocks left her limp when at last he came up to lie on the pillow beside her. The only time she’d ever felt so startled was at the beach, caught unawares by the force of an ocean wave, dragging her underneath the swirling foam before heaving her out onto the sand.

Eventually she found the breath to gasp, “I think I just got dumped.”

“Dumped? Oh, by a wave in the ocean, you mean. A rip tide, perhaps?” His teeth gleamed as he reached for his brandy glass beside the bed and took a deep draught.

Shudders continued to cause her breasts to lift and fall. “Was that a smug smile?”

Xavier shrugged. “You brought up the prowess of French men,
cherie
, not I.”

Amazed at how relaxed she felt, Jackie raised an eyebrow. Leaning over him, she took a saucy sip from his glass. “I sense a challenge. You know how I feel when you imply all things French are better than all things Australian.”

The hot glance he gave her naked body made her stomach contract. “I’ve told you before. I don’t think all things French are better than all things Australian.”

“But still …” Jackie reached down to where he remained encased in his tight fitting shorts. Slipping her hand inside, she peeled them away, to find him as strong and arrogant as the rest of him. In a voice she hardly recognised she found herself saying, “We have some unfinished business.”

“We do?”

“Yes.”

Bolder than she’d ever been before, she leaned over to the bedside table, reached for the knife beside the white truffle, and pared off a slice.

Turning back to face him, Jackie dropped it on her tongue as she moved down the bed. “You haven’t passed your taste test yet.”