French Blue (20 page)

Chapter Sixteen

With a parting kiss, Olivier shut the door behind Alex and walked back through to the bedroom, and found Lisa standing, facing the wall as he had told her to.

“You can turn around now.”

Slowly, she did as she was told and looked at him, full in the face, more composed now. Her eyes held twin emotions: wariness of him and also a fiery spark. Was it anger? Was she about to say their contract was terminated because he’d gone way too far?

He had to maintain control. Show tenderness and sympathy, but not regret or remorse. If she left him, she left him, and he would have to deal with it.

He didn’t want to deal with it, but his instincts told him that what she wanted from him right now was strength, not weakness. He’d suspected that from their very first interview. She’d had it with weak men, with those who let her down; she wanted strength and tenderness, reassurance and boundaries.

He walked forward, making the split-second decision to go to her rather than make her come to him. As soon as he was a foot away, she moved towards him, and he folded her in his arms. She let out a sob and immediate choked it back and dashed a hand across her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, wiping damp knuckles on her jeans.

“What for?”

“For crying.”

“You’ve just been caned. Everyone cries their first time.”

“Everyone?”

“Every sub I’ve ever seen. A lot of guys too. It fucking hurts, and yes, I have experienced it.”

“Bet you didn’t cry.”

“Almost.”

“You bastard.” She sniffed.

“Yes, I am. I have to be.”

“Because you care.”

“Because I care, and I want to give you your fantasy.”

“I’m not sure I want anymore. That was more than I could take. I hated it.”

“Then for fuck’s sake, why not tell me your safe word? This isn’t meant to be one long ordeal. We’re not fighting each other.”

“I thought that was the idea. To please you. To… Oh, I wanted to see it through. To prove to myself I could.”

“You just crossed a line. That was tough what happened, but you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why.” She looked up into his face now, fiery again. “Not after what you did—in front of your brother. I wanted to kill you.”

“Alex is not amused with me, if it makes you feel any better. Now get your jeans down so I can see what damage has been done.”

As he carefully prised the denim from her sore ass, she flinched and made little hissing noises.

“Shh. Shh.”

He dabbed cool cream on the still-warm weals.

“Ow…”

“Keep still. You could have stopped me before it even started. Before you even realised what was going to happen.”

“On my first time? No way would I give you the satisfaction.”

“And what about your satisfaction?” He palmed her bared buttock, forcing a wince from her lips. “Was it too bad?”

“It hurt like hell. Much worse than I’d expected. It still stings, and I would have jumped up if you hadn’t held me down, you bastard. But the worst part was that your brother was here. I didn’t want to cry, but it was so sharp.”

“I know.”

“And Alex—he won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not.”

Olivier debated whether to confess the whole truth about his plan with Alex. It was better he retained some semblance of mystique somehow. With the way Lisa looked at him now, eyes misty, lips parted, a look of wonderment, indignation and, yes—desire—he was ready to give up all his secrets, open his deeper emotions. Shit. What was happening?

He withdrew his hand and touched her cheek. “Have you got any arnica?” she asked. A teasing finger traced a line by his lips.

“I have better ideas.” He moved his cheek and closed his lips around her finger, sucking lightly.

Lisa clutched the pillow as he applied a cool gel to her sore behind. “Stop twitching,” he ordered, but gently. “You know these really are very pretty.”

He kissed her marks and turned her over. Lisa caught her breath as he reached for her. The world shifted. This wasn’t a game anymore, it
was
real life, and they’d just stepped out of the roles of Dom and sub and into the reality of being lovers…partners.

She tangled her hands in his hair, drawing his head closer. He held her close, kissing her as if he wanted to become part of her. Lisa wanted to be part of him too, body and soul. As he entered her, she acknowledged what she’d guessed for weeks now. It might not be a loving kiss, but this she knew: she was hopelessly in love with Olivier Lemaitre, and now he truly had the power to hurt her.

“See, how I think of you?”

“You are such a gentleman,” said Lisa, grimacing as she inched her bottom onto the cushion Olivier had placed on the bistro chair. It was an extra-soft cushion from the sofa, but she still winced as she settled her sore cheeks on the fabric.

Olivier, tea cloth tucked in his waistband, placed a plate of smoked salmon in front of her. “Gravdalax. Your favourite.”

“Don’t think you can get round me that easily,” she said, but the smoky tang of the translucent coral slices made her mouth water. Olivier topped up her wineglass and sat opposite.

“Hungry?”

“Mmm,” she managed through a mouthful of butter-soft fish. She was starving after her emotional and physical ordeal.

Every time she shifted, she flinched, but Olivier buttered his bread as if nothing had happened. “Alex wanted to know if we would join them for dinner tomorrow night,” he said.

Lisa’s fork hovered over her plate. “What? Face him again after what happened this evening? Surely not.”

“Why not? He’s very discreet and unshockable.”

“Yes, but…”

“Think of him as like your GP.”

“I don’t go out for dinner with my GP. Or get my ass thrashed in his surgery.”

“Don’t give me any more ideas.”

“Olivier! It’s not funny! In the cold light of day, your brother now knows just how kinky I am.”

He grinned. “Rest assured, not as kinky as Alex. But, joking aside, Carla will be there tomorrow. You’d really like her.”

“I’m sure I would, but…will she know too?”

Olivier nodded. “I don’t think Alex would want to keep any secrets from her.”

Lisa’s fork clattered onto the plate. “Great. Why not tell the whole of Paris I had my arse thrashed, Olivier? Why not post it on Twitter with a twitpic of my stripes?”

“Now there’s an idea. They are rather exquisite. I’m not losing my touch.”

She reached out to swat him, then regretted it as her weals scraped against the cushion. “Ouch!”

“Serves you right.” He smiled and laid his hand over hers so tenderly, her mouth tingled. “Lisa,
cherie
, it’s only dinner. I can say you’re busy or that you can’t face seeing Alex. I’m sure he’ll understand, but I’d much rather you did come along. You’ll love Carla, and I promise, Alex will act as if nothing has happened.”

She smiled. “I’m not sure I can make polite conversation with the man who’s seen me howling like a girl.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I won’t force you. Now, finish your salmon. I’ve made navarin d’agneau for an entrée, and you need to keep up your strength.”

Later in bed, Lisa lay facedown on the bed, her pelvis arched over a bolster, while Olivier massaged oil into her body. He hadn’t mentioned the restaurant date since dinner, but broached the subject now. “I can understand why you don’t want to face Alex after today, but I’d love it if you came with me tomorrow. We won’t be playing this time, and I’d really like you and Alex to have the chance to get to know each other in more…um…normal circumstances.”

His fingers slid along the back of her thighs, stopping just below the crease of her bottom. Her body stiffened. She wondered if he’d touch her weals or say more.

“Why?” she asked.
When this is just business. Why do you want me to get to know your brother and sister-in-law?

His hand spread out in a semicircle over her thigh, rubbing the oil in gently. Lisa held her breath as the silence lengthened. She twisted her head, but she couldn’t quite see his face. The bed creaked and the mattress lifted as he got off the bed.

“Olivier?”

His voice came from behind her, at the other side of the room. “I don’t know. I just would.”

It was a cop-out, infuriating, frustrating the hell out of her, but something about the simplicity of his reply—the lack of any kind of role play—made Lisa want to weep into the pillow.

Chapter Seventeen

Olivier had suggested they walk to the restaurant from the penthouse, partly to save Lisa’s still-tender butt from a breakneck taxi ride, but also to make the most of the fine summer evening. Notre Dame loomed against the deep blue sky, silhouetted in all its Gothic splendour as they crossed the Seine to the island in the river. Olivier had his arm around her back. Despite the prospect of meeting Alex again, she felt safe, secure and cared for, which was faintly ridiculous considering this was the man who had disciplined and humiliated her for the past two months.

“Here we are.”

Olivier led her to the door of a small bistro, wedged into one of the streets on the Ile de Saint Louis. It had the sign of the moor’s head above the door.

“I’ve heard of this place,” said Lisa.

“It’s nothing fancy, not much more than a creperie. Is that okay?”

“It’s perfect.” She tugged her wrap around her linen shift.

“Nervous?” he asked, his face filled with concern.

“Yes.”

He kissed her lips just once, but her whole body tingled as if she’d been rubbed with chilli.

“No need. They’ll love you.”

Olivier was right. Lisa did warm to Carla from the start. She was witty, funny and warm—and Alex clearly adored her. He was unable to take his eyes off his fiancée throughout their dinner, and any thoughts Lisa had that he would be interested in a scene with her and Olivier evaporated. Gradually the tension in her limbs eased, and she ceased to wait for the wink or glance from Carla or Alex that would refer to what had passed between them. Slowly, she relaxed and simply enjoyed dinner with friends. They were just two couples.

Except, the moment the idea slid into her mind, she realised that they weren’t. Alex and Carla were in love; she and Olivier were simply playing at being a couple.

Then why go through with this charade of a family dinner, if that was all she meant to Olivier? No matter that he’d said he wanted a civilised, fun time outside of the sex; this was a big deal, for Carla, at least. Meeting his family—and he’d admitted how much he wanted her to be here, last night, by his silence.

She wriggled on her chair, her sore bottom, the stripes still tender, reminding her of the bizarre nature of their relationship.

“Excuse me, I need the bathroom.”

Olivier and Alex both rose to their feet, chivalrous to a point. Carla let out a giggle. “You two. What
are
you like?”

Lisa had to smile too, wondering exactly what Carla was referring to, and soon they were all laughing. So the guys got to their feet out of politeness when a lady left the table, yet later the two of them would probably be over their respective partner’s knee for a spanking. Warmth spread to her face, then she joined in the laughter. That was the point; each of them knew the score; each one of them had fully consented to the games they played; each one shared an unbreakable bond.

Carla discarded her napkin on the table. “At the risk of living up to a cliché of women going to the bathrooms en masse, I think I’ll take the chance to visit the loo too.”

Like most Parisian bistros, the bathrooms were shoehorned into a tiny subterranean space reached by a spiral staircase. When Lisa exited the loo, and washed her hands, she found Carla drying her hands on a paper towel.

“It’s a lovely little place here, isn’t it? Alex told me it’s one of Olivier’s favourite places. It must be wonderful to have the chance to live and work here.”

Lisa ripped a towel from the dispenser. “It’s been an experience, definitely.”

She saw Carla’s expression in the mirror behind her, the pressed lips trying to hide the knowing smile. She
knew
.

Face burning, Lisa tossed the towel into the waste bin. “Alex has told you what happened, didn’t he?”

Carla bit her lip, clearly unsure what to say.

“Please, tell me the truth.”

“He said Olivier punished you in front of him, yes. Alex didn’t plan it, he just happened to be there, but he wanted to be honest with me. We have no secrets from each other, but I’m sorry if I’ve invaded your privacy.”

“Oh shit.” Lisa couldn’t meet her eyes.

Carla patted her arm. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone or mention it when we’re with the guys. Our lifestyles are strictly private.”

“Not after yesterday.”

“No one need mention it ever again, if that’s what you wanted. You
did
want it to happen, didn’t you?”