Page 28 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

“Properly?” Raegan hitches a hip to the table. Then doesn’t move. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Or maybe we’ve just got a translation issue.” Drue lifts a brow full of naughty intimation. “Maybe ‘proper’ means something totally different in French.”

“And maybe you two could have that debate in another room?” I clench my smile too.

“Of course, sweetness.” The dripping honey in Drue’s tone matches the wicked enjoyment in her smile. She doesn’t relent on either while gently jerking Raegan toward the door. “You want me to kill the lights on our way out?”

Max grunts. “More talk of killing?”

Drue grimaces. “Huh?”

“Reenactor,” I inject. “He’s a method guy.”

“Ahhh.” She reignites her devilish grin. “Well, he’s slaying it.”

A longer rumble vibrates from Max. “Your friend is very violent, for a female.”

Drue laughs in full. “The female accepts that as high flattery.”

Max pulls in a breath for a comeback—but the second Drue hits the lighting dimmer on the wall, the air clutches in his throat. It precedes his wide gawk by just seconds.

I stand and watch his expression for a few stunned moments of my own. Drue’s action has doused the glow from both the chandeliers, softening the light in the room. As Max drops his hands along with his jaw, I feel like I’m meeting him all over again. No longer is he my insatiable lover from last night or the smoldering and possessive hunk who came down here to find me a few minutes ago. Right now, he seems eons younger yet centuries older. His eyes are bright with innocence, but his scar, more brutal than I recall from last night, confirms he’s lived a bit of life. His stance is still noble, but his gasp is thick with astonishment.

No. With utter awe.

“Mon Dieu,” he rasps. “Did you see…?” He races to the switch plate, dragging me along with a painful handclasp. “What…beneath all the heavens…” As soon as he imitates Drue’s motion in reverse, his stunned stare becomes a bewildered gape. “Ventrebleu!”

I smile. I can’t help myself. His amazement is infectious. I lift my own regard to the chandeliers. This time, I really notice them. Their crystals are perfectly balanced. The romantic prisms they cast around the room seem to turn back time, transforming the space for my modern, judgmental eyes. Suddenly, I’m not looking at a chaotic memorial of an over-accessorized nobility. I’m beholding a testament to artistry, appreciation, reflection. To the wonder I feel while admiring the same light in Max’s eyes. The amazement of watching his lothario-lover act crumble because of something like this.

It’s kind of cool.

It’s damn sexy.

“They’re beautiful.”

I’m only half-referring to the lights, but he glares like I’ve just divulged there’s a hellmouth under the table. “Beautiful?” He cranks the dimmer again, taking the room from brilliance into shadows. “It is…light. Do you see this, ma belle? Look at this light!”

“Yeah, yeah.” So I’m a little snappy about it. There’s a fine line between stopping to smell the flowers—or gaze at the prisms—and pounding the character acting to a tired pulp. “I get it, all right? Wooo. Electric lights. You’ve never seen them before. Gasp!”

“Electric.” He repeats the word while making the room look like a bad horror movie with the continuing light fluctuations. “Of course. Electric. If one could harness the power of the skies, they could generate light at will. I have read some papers about this.”

He looks back at me with bright medallion eyes and a dopey smile. Well, damn it. How can I stay irritated with this big adorable hunk? Yeah, despite knowing the moves are calculated parts of his role play. Additionally, knowing that this encounter really has to be our goodbye. Neither fact dampens the new rise of my attraction to him.

The huge rise…

I don’t think beyond that. I can’t. Like last night, I kick my inhibitions to the curb and my insecurities into the ether. I use the clasp of our hands to swing Max back around, knocking him against the wall. Before speaking again, I work a little mental math. “You know, Hotness…depending on how much you charge for your extras, maybe we can talk about one more bite of dessert before you put me in your rearview.”

“Extras? Dessert?” His voice has a tremor, but he’s confident as well. The man may be dedicated to his performance, but he’s not stupid. He knows not to fight when a woman slams him against the wall and then plummets to her knees in front of him—like I do now. He also knows how to run his fingers through her hair with enough pressure to make her feel desired, needed, powerful…

Exactly like he does now.

“I know time is money and that Dimitri likely paid well for yours last night, but I’ve been working hard and have been saving up for a special birthday treat.” I roll my gaze up his luscious form, making sure he watches as I run my tongue across the seam of my lips. “Could you be that treat, my lord?”

“Jesu,” he groans. His massive thighs tense beneath his culottes as I unbutton the flap covering his crotch. “Ma belle…what…”

“Sssshhh.” I breathe him in, savoring the scent. There’s still a hint of me mixed with his distinct musk. My senses ride the high into a cloud of erotic memories from last night. My sex tightens as I nudge his bulge with my nose. “I want to get my mouth on your cock, Max.” I relish the taut buck of his hips. “I want to suck it until you come deep inside my throat.”

“Alessandra…” He tenses again. The carved bricks of his abdomen take up the view between my face and his. “By every tooth in Christ’s head. Please. No.”