Jacqueline Baird - Mediterranean Tycoons

‘Do I have a choice?’ she prompted with a wry smile, seeing the determination in his expression. He really did mean to do the whole tourist bit, and somehow she found it rather endearing.

‘For a beautiful lady, you ask far too many questions,’ Marcus remarked and tugged her along the pavement.

They rode the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Eloise took one look at the panoramic view, and immediately her legs shook and her head spun. She saw Marcus gesture to something in the distance and vaguely heard his voice extolling the virtues of some building, but she felt dizzy. Reaching out, she gripped his arm, and clung. Heights were not her thing.

‘Eloise.’ His narrowed gaze swept her pale features, instantly recognising the problem, and pulled her into his arms. ‘You should have told me you were afraid of heights. We’re going back down.’ And he held her firmly in his protective embrace, only releasing her as they stepped back onto firm ground.

Eloise glanced back up at the towering iron structure, and still felt slightly dizzy. She leant against one of the mighty iron supports for a moment, marvelling that she’d actually had the nerve to go to the top. ‘I did it.’ She flashed Marcus a shaky smile.

‘Yes.’ He smiled back. ‘But I think Les Invalides, and Napoleon’s tomb next; it is underground and safe for you. Unless you are afraid of going underground as well,’ he queried seriously.

She was elated that at last she had finally seen the view from the top of the world-famous tower. She had never dared do it by herself, even though she had been to Paris quite a few times in the past months—and, surprised by Marcus’s apparent concern, her luscious lips parted in a beaming grin. ‘Marcus, you’re fussing like an old woman,’ she giggled.

An arrested expression flickered across his handsome face, and he closed the space between them. He braced his hands on the iron beam either side of her, and covered her mouth with his. And there at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, in broad daylight, with hundreds of people watching, he kissed her with a hunger, a fiery brand of ownership that sent a wave of scorching heat racing through her veins.

‘Marcus.’ She gasped his name as he released her swollen lips. ‘People are looking.’

‘So? You’re my woman,’ he declared on a ragged breath. ‘But you’re right, I am not usually in the habit of kissing in public. But you drive me crazy.’ He looked around distractedly, ‘Let’s go.’

Marcus could have been one of Napoleon’s generals Eloise thought with secret amusement, as he proceeded to lead her to Les Invalides, then across the river to the Arc de Triomphe, and the tomb of the unknown soldier. He pointed out the matching arch over a mile away, marvelling at the skill of the architect.

They sat at a pavement café of the Champs Elysée, and there with the local Parisians, and the obvious tourists from all over the world, they shared a bottle of wine, and a meal of light fluffy omelettes with salad. Whether it was the wine or the company, Eloise realised she really was enjoying herself. Marcus was a good conversationalist and very knowledgeable about Paris, and as if by common consent they avoided talking about anything personal. Relaxed, Eloise drained her glass and replaced it on the table. She glanced across at Marcus; he was withdrawing some money from his wallet.

‘Are we leaving already?’ she demanded. ‘I quite like watching the world go by.’

And he loved watching her, Marcus realised, but didn’t say it. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed. The jade silk shirt was sleeveless, and the top button was unfastened, revealing a shadowy cleavage. Intellectually, he knew she was a liar and a cheat, but it didn’t stop his body responding in a most inconvenient manner.

‘I plan we visit the Louvre next for approximately two hours, and then visit the Pompidou centre,’ he ground out, shoving one hand in his pocket and rising to his feet.

‘Very organised,’ Eloise teased him but took the hand he held out to her, and let him lead her down towards the Louvre.

The queue to enter was huge…

Eloise turned laughing eyes up to Marcus, and saw the frustration in the set of his hard features. ‘Finally defeated, mon generale,’ she mocked. ‘You have to wait like everyone else.’

‘No, I think I have waited long enough.’ He tightened his grip on her hand and surveyed her with blatant male intensity.

Suddenly tension simmered in the air between them. The crowd around them vanished and Eloise was drowning in the darkening depths of his deep brown eyes. His thumb stroked the palm of her hand and then he tugged her very gently against the hard heat of his body.

‘Why wait to see an ancient work of art, when I have a perfect work of art in my grasp?’ he said with blunt urgency. ‘My apartment is not far.’

She wanted to lash out at him for looking at her with such arrogant possession. Yesterday she might have done but, after last night, all she could think of was his sensual mouth on hers, his large, strong, naked body possessing her.

He pulled her along the road and into the shadowed entrance hall of a large building. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and she could sense the powerful sexual tension that gripped his great frame. At the foot of the stairs, he glanced down at her and, as if compelled, he backed her against the wall and covered her mouth with his own in a ravishing kiss that left her boneless when he finally lifted his dark head.

‘Hell! Why did I choose the top floor?’ he grated and dragged her up the stairs, finally turning around and sweeping her up in his arms, for the final two flights.

He opened the door, and she was back where she had been last night. This time, Marcus didn’t hesitate but marched straight into the bedroom.

Eloise didn’t have time to survey her surroundings as he lowered her down the lean length of his superbly fit body. She could feel the tension in his every muscle, the faint musky scent all male and all Marcus, and she quivered, inside heat surging in her lower body.

His hands dispensed with the buttons down the front of her blouse with a speed that smacked of vast experience, but Eloise didn’t care; she grasped his lean waist and hung on as he slipped her blouse from her shoulder and flicked her bra open and off.

With a groan Marcus dropped his head and suckled at an erect dusky nipple, and her hands clenched fiercely in his waist, an involuntary groan of pleasure torn from her throat. Her head fell back, and then her whole body as Marcus eased her down on the bed and, with hands that shook slightly, divested her of her trousers and briefs.

His own clothes were shrugged off in a second and he was over her, large, lean and magnificently aroused. She was awed by his spectacular male beauty and helpless in his grasp as his strong hands swept the whole length of her slender frame. One hand swept upwards over the curve of her thigh, and with his other he caught her throat, and his mouth crashed down on her already parted lips.

His long fingers explored the silken red curls at the juncture of her thighs with devastating effect, even as his mouth trailed down her throat and back to her aching breasts. He lingered there, teasing her sensitive flesh until every nerve in her body tautened to breaking point, in fiery anticipation.

‘I have to have you now,’ Marcus muttered thickly.

He bit down on a distended nipple, then soothed with his tongue and she writhed beneath him, consumed by a hunger, a need so intense she cried out his name.

The sound of his name from her lush lips drove him to the edge and Marcus arched back and, cupping her bottom, he thrust deep into her hot, tight, silken sheath.

Eloise dug her fingers into the night-black hair of his head, and gave herself up in wild, wanton delight to the primitive joining. She was inflamed to fever pitch, and when he took her mouth again in a savage admission of need she returned the kiss, her tongue duelling with his. His great body stilled, fighting to retain control.