Broken French - Natasha Boyd Page 0,110

face with his other hand. “Pardon. I’m sorry. I panicked. I thought you were hurt.”

“I slipped. Then I got sick. But I’m okay.”

“You are seasick?”

I nodded and took a moment to take stock of my body. “I think so. But I feel better now.” Nothing like being rescued by a hunky Frenchman to sort your body’s priorities out. Seasick? What? Short memory.

“You feel better?” he asked.

I nodded.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders slumping. “I thought—”

My fingers reached out and curved around his upper arm and squeezed. I wanted to sit up and hold him to me—to offer him comfort from whatever nightmare had just surfaced in his memories.

I became aware of his hand on my thigh and of my towel, which was in danger of baring all. I couldn’t see how much of me below the waist was revealed. My attention fell to the air cooling the damp skin between my legs and realized it was probably a lot. He was being a gentleman not to look, and I forced myself not to try and cover up lest I draw more attention. Nonetheless, heat pooled, my skin prickling.

Then his eyes trailed downward. A dark lock of hair fell across is forehead. His lips parted as a soft puff of air escaped, then closed as he gave a heavy swallow.

He looked up at me and caught my gaze, his denim eyes burning, pupils large, worry ebbing. His expression—so desperate, so vulnerable, so hungry—made my breath falter. Then he glanced at the open door.

He got up, his hand sliding off my skin, and went to the door. He closed it.

It shut with a soft snick. And he slowly turned the catch, locking us in.

“Is this okay?” he rasped.

I didn’t think he was asking about the closed door this time.

Chapter Thirty-Three

XAVIER

I turned the latch, heart pounding. My skin was too tight for the energy and want pounding through my body. I counted to five, waiting for the sensation to pass, with no luck. I’d been on a call when the boat tipped forty-five degrees with no warning and plummeted into the space left by a fast rolling wave. There were crashes and thumps as everything that wasn’t secured went flying in every room of the boat, including my laptop. Then I’d heard Rod shouting and cold fear clutched me. I’d left Josie at the railing.

Laptop forgotten and phone abandoned, I’d bolted to the deck. No Josie. Rod was clipped on, trying to rescue a chair that had flipped from the upper deck and caught by a leg on the lower railing. I should help, but— “Josie?” I yelled. Rod’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Logical thought reasoned with panic as I went through the galley and was directed by Chef who was on hands and knees in a mess of plates down to Josie’s cabin. Thank fuck.

But then I swear, my fucking heart stopped. Reason was overtaken, and all I saw was Arriette in a crumpled heap, unconscious. Bleeding where she’d hit her head. Evening dress covered in vomit.

I screamed a curse, my throat tight with remembered fear.

No. This was Josie. Mon dieu. She was hurt but she blinked up at me. And God, I hoped I hadn’t scared her.

But now, minutes later, my heart was still thumping and adrenaline was ebbing, being replaced by something else. I was at the door, locking us in. I squeezed my fists tight. I wanted her so bad. I turned from the door just as she whispered my name. “Xavier.”

It was foreign from her lips.

She reached a hand up. “Come here.”

I stalked to the end of the bed. She was as I’d left her, towel barely covering anything. Smooth, long legs, the skin like silk where I’d touched her inner thigh. Her hair was a damp mess, cascading over the pillow.

She shifted her legs apart a fraction and the towel rose. A noise broke free from my throat.

“Did you just growl at me?” she asked, her voice breathy. “You sound like a wolf.”

I pressed a knee on the bed. “I was going to take you to dinner first,” I said.

“Except it looks like I’ll be your dinner.” The corner of her luscious mouth tilted up as I chuckled in response, grateful for the tension valve release. Her expression grew serious again. “This is just sex, right? Two days. So let’s throw the rules out the window.”

Swallowing down an unexpected denial in my throat and leaving her just sex question unanswered, my fingers began

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