Page 75 of Icebound

“It was worth it,” she said.

“If I were you, I would keep out of Maddelena’s way from now on. She won’t like having been bested, and for some reason, she really hates you.”

For some reason? He was denying everything between them, and she considered further damaging her fist by punching him. But he was stroking her hand with an unexpected gentleness, and it was inexplicably soothing her. She watched in silence as he wrapped an Ace bandage around it, holding still as he washed the blood off her face. He leaned back to survey her.

“Your lip is bleeding,” he said softly.

“Is it?” Her anger had vanished under his ministrations, and she looked up at him, her heart aching.

“Yes,” he said, and leaned forward to gently touch his mouth to hers. It barely hurt, and when he leaned back, she saw her blood on his mouth too, and it was inexplicably erotic.

“Did that hurt?” he said softly.

“Kiss me again and I’ll let you know.”

As Jean-Marc, he’d seldom smiled at her, but he did now. “Now is the time for ‘fuck you’,” he said, and kissed her again.

He was slow, tender, and unbearably erotic as he stripped off her clothes, dropping them on the floor beside his. Every touch aroused her, every kiss enflamed her, and when he pushed inside her, she came immediately, tight around him as he thrust. He went slow, wickedly slow, driving her to distraction, and she made a whimpering sound of need that made him laugh. “You want this?” he said, and sped up, and she cradled his hips with her thighs.

This was what she wanted, this was what she needed. He put his hand over her damaged mouth when she came, muffling any noise she might make, and his tight moan was almost soundless. He rolled off almost immediately, and she let out a cry of protest.

“I’m too heavy for you,” he said, stretching out beside her, cradling her head in one large hand. He kissed her again. “Sleep for a while. I have to find a way to sneak out of here so no one sees me, but I’ll find a way back. I feel like a goddamned teenager trying to sneak some forbidden sex.”

She was exhausted, drained, drowsy, barely aware of his body pressed up against her. “Bastien,” she whispered as she pressed her face against him, breathing in the scent of him. She drifted into sleep.

“Chloe,” he whispered back, and then froze.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

When Chloe awoke, she was alone. Of course she was—Bastien never stayed long in his present incarnation. She stretched in the bed, her body a mass of confused responses. She felt gloriously sated, erotic afterthoughts dancing through her brain. And yet she felt like she’d been thoroughly thrashed. If she won the fight, as Bastien had said she did, then Maddelena must be at death’s door.

She sat up, groaning. Her clothes lay neatly folded at the foot of the bed—she hadn’t even been aware of him leaving her, much less picking up after them. She showered and dressed with deliberate care, wincing with pain as the water pounded down on her bruised body, and she paused to look down at the rumpled bed. She wanted to drop down on it, roll in the loose covers, press her face against the sheets in erotic pleasure. She was infatuated. With her own husband, but then, that was nothing particularly new. She was filled with a hot, burning need for him, like nothing she’d felt since they first came together and they were running for their lives. Their sex life had always been incendiary. This was merely pushing it up another notch.

Reluctantly, she pulled the bed together, smoothing the covers. If Bastien could clean up after them, so could she, and she stopped long enough to check herself in the mirror. She had a black eye, all right, and after Bastien’s kisses, her mouth was even more swollen. The long sleeves of her shirt covered most of the scratches and bite marks, though Maddelena had managed to rake her nails down her face at least once. She’d scored her skin but not broken it, and in truth, Chloe looked bloody but unbowed. Let Maddelena try to come for her again. She’d break her jaw.

At that bloody thought, she flexed her wrist, letting out a small cry of pain. She wouldn’t be hitting anyone in the near future, unless Bastien called her bébé again. For now, she was ready to join the others.

Bastien had left her door unlocked, and she opened it, preparing to head out, only to come face to face with the guard stationed outside her room. He blocked her passageway.

“It’s dinner time,” she said.

“You’re to eat in your room tonight,” he intoned with robotic stiffness.

“Why?” She was pushing things, and she was surprised when he actually answered her.

“Le Fauçon has business to conduct. There’s no place for women at the table.”

Chloe suppressed her instinctive growl. She wanted to see Bastien again, to sit next to him in absolute silence and revel in his presence. Apparently, she was being punished for her part in the catfight.

“All right,” she said, heading back into the room. In fact, she’d just as soon avoid Le Fauçon and Luc, and most particularly Maddelena, but she suspected Maddelena was banished as well. She only wanted Bastien, and he’d said he would come to her. She would have to count on that vague promise.

But he didn’t come. She stayed awake for him, lying in the vast bed with its rich colors, wearing absolutely nothing. He liked undressing her, but she had nothing to wear but an old cotton dress that someone had dug up and Bastien’s oversized sweats, and she couldn’t imagine either outfit being part of a lengthy seduction. He also liked her naked, and that would have to do. When this was all over…

Would it ever be all over? He was being sent to kill his best friend, possibly with his own children as witnesses, even collateral damage. The horror of it was too appalling to consider. When he came to her, he might talk about it—their relationship had changed since that night in the Como hotel. She no longer felt like the hostage, he the captor. They were on more even footing.

But he didn’t come. She fell asleep, pouting, and woke up entwined in the blankets, alone. She would have to go in search of him.