La Promesse (The Promise) (3 page)

I
’m normally a light sleeper
. So when I wake to find that you are not next to me, a little alarm goes off in my head. It takes a few moments for me to get my bearings, realize where I am, and for the panic to subside. It hasn’t been a dream, I am still in the hotel.

I glance at the clock. 5:28 AM.

I catch your silhouette out of the corner of my eye and sit up to see what you are doing. I can’t see your face, but I know your expression as you gaze out onto the city skyline from the chair you’ve pulled to the window. Our time is passing too swiftly. We only have six more hours together, and then it will be over. My heart sighs.

Padding lightly, I move toward you. The lights from below bathe your skin, making it luminescent. You are heartbreakingly beautiful. Without turning, or even acknowledging me, you raise your arm, extending your hand to me. I grasp it. You pull me toward you and guide me to stand between you and the vista below. Your eyes slide from the view outside, to our reflection in the glass, and settles on me as you tilt your head up.

No one has ever looked at me the way that you do, and I doubt they ever will again. Am I beautiful to you? Your beauty shatters me.

“Ah…
mon coeur
…”

I blush. Your hands dance over my skin as I stand before you. Slowly, deliberately, you cover every inch of my torso and arms, slide your palms down to my ass. I melt under your touch, my eyes closing. Your pull on my hips brings me back to the present and I move to straddle you. You are hard and ready. Always so ready for me.

Your eyes are feverish, feasting on me. I feel devoured and consumed by them. Everywhere you look burns as if you’ve touched me there. But your hands are on my hips as I lower myself onto you and we both exhale slowly.

We don’t move, both trying to commit to memory this feeling of being connected on every level. I can almost hear your voice in my head pleading
make time stop
. I want to. I never want to leave this place or you.

Your hands skim up my body and cup my face. We stare for long minutes, not moving. I feel you pulsate within me and I answer. Each time I do, your eyes cloud over, the desire building once again. I don’t realize that there are tears on my cheeks until you smooth your hands over my breasts, leaving cool, wet streaks on my skin.

Without warning, your lips latch onto my nipple. I cry out and I grab your shoulders. You pull me closer to your body and we begin to move, as if we’d done this a thousand times before. I rise with your hands instructing me. Your teeth and tongue set the pace, lapping and suckling me.

I lift my knees over the low arms of the chair, using them for leverage. It presents a new angle, a deeper penetration.

“Oh…fuck…”

Yes and yes. My body is shaking violently around you already and it only serves to drive you on. Your thrusts become more ardent until you are slamming up into me, me down upon you. You’re biting me, gently but enough to leave your mark. My breasts, stomach, arms all branded with your claim.

“Fuck, yes. Mine…mine…
tout à moi
.”

Yes and yes and yes again, I am yours.

Hooking your arms under my knees, you bend me to your will. I no longer control my own movement. You push and pull me, cajole me to another orgasm and I feel like I’m falling through the window behind, sailing to the river below.

“Mine.”

Lesson learned. I am yours to pleasure, yours to love if you’ll have me.

My breasts jog, brushing your chest with every bounce. Your arms band around my waist like granite wrapped in silk – oh how I love your strength. You murmur and moan with your efforts as I rise and fall. Lost to my teacher, my lover, my life.

You’re racing to the finish line now, oblivious to anything but the need to release. I hold onto your shoulders and do my best to encourage your disintegration. Leaning in, I find your ear, kissing it before I whisper:

“Fuck me. Love me. Give me everything. Fill me. I want it all.”

It startles me when you grab my head and delve into my mouth with your demanding tongue, but I accept it and you. All of you. Your body goes rigid as you break the kiss, your eyes wild.

And then dawn crests and you with it.

A strangled cry escapes your mouth, along with
“mon sucre d’orge”,
variations of my name and finally “
je t’aime, mon ange
.
Je t’aimerais pour toujours
.”

Our hearts pounding in unison, we sink back into the chair, still connected in every way possible. I wrap myself around you, and you respond in kind, resting your head on my breast. I cradle it in the crook of my arm and pepper your forehead with kisses. You’re still pulsing inside me. Both of us tremble in the silence.

It isn’t until I lift your face to mine for a kiss that I notice the tear on your cheek. My stormy brown becomes trapped in the indigo blue of yours.

I love them. God…I love
you
. Now more than ever, tomorrow even more. I breathe through the first fissures of my heartbreak.

Our time together will end too soon.

A
s the taxi
speeds along the highway toward the airport, I can’t stop shivering. You wrap your arms around me, so tightly I can barely breathe. I don’t complain.

I don’t want you to go.

Don’t want it.

Don’t want to lose you to the distance again.

“We will see each other soon,
cherie
.”

When?

Your eyes meet mine.

Your sorrow mirrors mine.

You search my face, grace my lips with tender kisses, and smooth away my tears.

“You could always come to France.”

I could, but a visit wouldn’t be enough. I picture endless goodbyes, as painful as this one. More so.

“No,
mon bichette
, not to visit. To stay.”

I startle.

You can’t mean…

You smile, your eyes twinkling in the passing street lights.

“I love you. You love me. Your work could be done from anywhere,
non
?”

I nod, afraid to blink. To wake up from this dream.

“Come to me,” you insist, your voice strong and sure. “Settle your affairs here and come to me. Be with me. Be mine.”

I think of my life here, of what I have and what I stand to lose. I realize you’re right. I could do this. I could be with you there in the City of Light. As much as I love my city, there isn’t much to hold me here.

But this is crazy. Isn’t it?

“
Oui
, it’s a little crazy but what is life without risk?”

There’s so much love in your eyes it spills out and over your face, lighting it, curving your lips into a dazzling smile. You know I’m convinced even before I do.

Yes.

I will come to you.

You kiss me, exhaling your relief across my mouth.

“We will have such a life,
cherie
. A happy life,” you promise.

And my heart believes every word.

T
hank
you to Jordan LaRousse and Samantha Sade for taking a chance on a new author. I never did cash my royalty check.

Also, thanks to Sarah Hegger, Marc Stevens, and Kaia Bennett for giving me their honest opinions when I needed them.

Lastly, big sloppy kisses to my Mr. X for, well, everything.

See you soon, darlings!

~X

X
io Nin is
the pseudonym of Xio Axelrod, an award-winning author of love stories, contemporary romance and (what she likes to call) strange, twisted tales.

Xio grew up in the music industry and began recording at a young age. When she isn’t writing stories, she can be found in the studio, writing songs, or performing on international stages (under a different, not-so-secret name). She lives in Philadelphia with one full-time husband and one part-time cat.

Where to find Xio…

• @xioaxelrod
  
• XioNin
  

A
s Xio Nin
…

Remembering the Alamo

An erotic short. Just a little hit to put a smile on your face.

She was only in town for one night and wanted to have a little fun.

"I found myself sitting at the hotel bar nursing a Margarita and listening to the bartender prattle on about the ‘heyday’ of the Dallas Cowboys.

That’s when I saw him, or rather I felt him looking at me. Turning my head a bit, I caught the eyes of the man of my dreams and…hot damn! Jackpot."

A
s Xio Axelrod
…

Falling Stars (Book 1)

What if you met the right person at the absolute wrong time?

Meet Val Saunders and Sam Newman, two Hollywood actors at opposite ends of their careers. Hers is skyrocketing while his, well, never really took off. Fate brings them together when they’re cast as lovers on a steamy new television series. The on-screen chemistry between them is off the charts and when it spills over into a real life attraction, they find themselves in a situation.

Sam is an honorable man. He has been faithful to a toxic, Hollywood marriage for nearly half his life. He’s never strayed and isn’t about to start now, despite the fact that he is falling head over heels for his co-star.

Val’s worked hard to get her career on the path to the A-list and the last thing she wants, or needs, is a scandal. If only her heart and her brain were working with the same script.

Romance is an ideal. This is a love story. It explores the possibility of second chances and asks hard questions about duty, fidelity, life in the public eye, and the cost of being happy. Falling Stars is the beginning of a sexy, sensual, and emotional roller-coaster ride that reminds us that love, while not always easy, is always worth it.

Book one in the series.

T
he Calum (Book
1)

Twenty-six is too old to believe in fairytales, but tell that to Lovie’s roommate. Convinced she’ll find a real life version of her ultimate book boyfriend, Calum MacKenzie, Jo drags Lovie to the Scottish Highlands. Lovie’s no cynic *ahem* but she knows The Calum is a myth. A construct. A freaking unicorn! And there are warmer places to spend a winter vacation.

If Duff had his way, he’d never step foot in Inverness again. Only his best friend’s wedding, and his ailing grandmother, could bring him home. Duff’s plan is keep his head down and stay out of trouble. Hard to do when the groom targets a pretty blond tourist for one last conquest..

When Duff and Lovie meet, stones, sparks and insults fly. He’s instantly attracted to the sexy, sharp-tongued American. She’s just glad to have someone to hang out with, especially the bad boy with a mysterious past. Lovie is determined to learn his secrets, but as they grow closer, Duff is forced to choose between his best friend and his heart.