Kitty French - Knight and Day

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you won’t let it, for starters.”

He huffed under his breath. “I don’t want to start fucking in bed with the lights off once a month.”

Laughter bubbled up in Sophie’s throat. “Okay. Twice a month, if you insist.”

“I’m being fucking serious, Sophie. I see people get married and then, boom. It’s all gone. Tedium. Mundaneness.” He scowled. Or worse.”

Sophie knew what he meant, but still his thoughts amused her. Lucien wouldn’t know how to be dull if he tried. He'd made the seismic shift into parenthood look easy. Being someone's husband would only serve to make him sexier still, and she intended on being an anything but routine wife.

She slipped her high heel off underneath the table and ran her bare foot up his leg and into his crotch.

“I solemnly promise not to let our marriage get dull, Lucien.”

He caught hold of her ankle and massaged it, holding her foot against him. Around them, sun worshippers who’d gathered to drink cocktails and watch the sunset broke into spontaneous applause, and it took a second for Sophie to register that they were acknowledging the majesty of the sunset in the way that had become customary on the island rather than applauding her solemn promise to Lucien.

“We can write our own vows if you like,” she offered, swirling her untouched wine around in her glass as she moved her toes against his hardening erection.

“Tell me more,” he said, glancing downwards almost imperceptibly, meaning ‘Do it more’ as well.

His arm lay along the low sand-hewn wall behind him, the open sea beyond that. To anyone else in the restaurant, he looked supremely relaxed; nonchalant even, despite the fact that he was sexually aroused. Pinprick fairylights lit up the inside of the rattan ceiling like a million tiny stars, and the ethereal sound of the wind chimes dotted around underscored the low, sexy jazz music. It all came together to create a bohemian vibe, a place to let go of inhibitions and chill out.

“Well…” Sophie said, lazily rotating her foot, enjoying watching his poker face. She’d been thinking about their vows for a while. “I thought we could keep them as a surprise for each other. Kind of like a wedding present.”

Lucien looked sceptical. “Are you going to promise to obey me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No. I quite enjoy it when you step out of line.” They both fell silent for a moment, remembering the handcuffs incident in Lucien's office.

She smiled into her wine glass, then pushed it away and sipped from her tumbler of water, dragging herself back to the present.
“Are you going to promise to obey me?”

“Your wish is my command, Princess. You know that already.”

Sophie mulled over his light-hearted words for a while as they gazed out at the scattering of glossy, illuminated yachts anchored off the bay. He wasn’t lying. He gave her everything she ever wanted and a whole lot more besides. A lifestyle way beyond anything she could have dreamt up for herself, and a love that filled every corner of her heart.

“I went for a wedding dress fitting today,” she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Is it sexy? I like sexy.”

“I know you do,” she chided. “And yes, I think so. It’s also a little tighter than last time.”

He looked unusually perplexed, and she left him hanging for a few seconds before she spoke again, savouring the words.

“I’m pregnant, Lucien.”

Sophie had grabbed a test that afternoon after trying on her bespoke wedding dress and finding her breasts uncomfortably restrained despite the careful tailoring. She watched his perplexed expression melt into a slow, incredulous, joyous smile. He dropped her ankle and slid around the alcove bench until he was beside her, one arm around her shoulders, the other cupping her face.

“Sophie… are you sure?” he said, his shining eyes searching hers. He kissed her briefly as she nodded, then lifted his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Another baby. When?”

"I'm about six weeks, I think." She dashed away a rogue tear from her lashes, unable to keep the smile from her lips.

Lucien laid his hand over her stomach, and lifted his eyes to hers.

“Are you happy?” she asked, quietly.

He lowered his eyes and drew in a long breath. “You have no idea.”

Sophie stroked his cheek. “I think I do.”

He looked at her untouched wine glass, and then took it from the table in front of her and dropped it into the sea behind them.

Sophie sighed. “You’re not going to go all caveman on me again this time are you?” Even under usual circumstances Lucien was protective, but during her pregnancy with Tilly he’d gone into overdrive.

“Yes.”

He was totally uncompromising, and she loved him all the more for it.

At the villa later that night, Lucien made slow love to Sophie until she trembled, and then slept with his head on her stomach, keeping watch over the newest love of his life.

Dylan sat alone on the deck of the Love Tug a couple of weeks later, his eyes on the beach even though his mind was miles away. He’d tried to tell Kara the truth, he really had. The burden of lying sat heavily on his back. He’d gone over events a million times in his head, trying to make what he’d said and not said into less of a lie and more of a misunderstanding. But the plain truth was that there had been no misunderstanding. He’d invented a name because he didn’t want to be the person he’d always been, because he didn’t want all of the negative associations of his old life or the people in it.

He’d lied to make his own life easier, and in the process he’d made other people’s lives more difficult. Lucien was lying for him, or at least covering for him. His mother was lying to anyone who asked where he’d gone. And then there was Kara.

Kara, who’d given him so much of herself and asked only one thing of him in return. Honesty.

He placed his empty beer bottle down on the table in front of him and pulled the battered brown envelope Justin had delivered towards him. Dog-eared and bent, it remained unopened, but Dylan had known all along what he’d find inside.

His stomach turned over with clammy nerves as he picked at the edge of it.

Papers.

Legal papers.

Divorce papers.

To: mmk@toscanomail

From: mollymk@tosacanomail

Hello Matty,

Hope the job’s still going well. I’m so sorry that Justin found you from my emails, I’d have warned you if I’d realised he was coming to find you. One day I’ll learn my lesson. It’s hard not to trust my own son.

There’s something else you should know, love. Suzie was in town visiting her mother last week. Seems she’s having that baby real soon, and she was asking where to find you. I didn’t tell her of course, but Justin… I really hope he kept his mouth shut this time.

I’m sure it’ll come to nothing, she’s gone again now back to whatever hellhole she crawled out of.

Stay safe,

Mom xx

To: mollymk@toscanomail

From: mmk@toscanomail

Hi Mom,

It wasn’t your fault that Justin came here, he is what he is. Just don’t wait for him to change, because hand on heart I don’t think it’s ever going to happen.

Thanks for not telling Suzie where I am. She made her choice when she got herself pregnant with Donovan’s child, and I’ve made my choices here in Ibiza.

I’m scared to even say it, but I’m real happy here, mom. The only thing I miss about the States is you.

Love you.

Matty

“So, Dylan,” Kara said, admiring his ass as he turned to pour them both a shot of brandy. They’d locked up and seen the last of the staff out of the building after a long, busy night. They had the whole club to themselves before the cleaning team arrived in a few hours, and they were suddenly wide awake and ready for each other’s company. “A little bird tells me it’s your birthday today.”

Dylan slid her glass over with a roll of his eyes. “Do they now?” He didn’t need to work very hard to figure out how she knew. “I might have to take a shotgun to that six foot something Norwegian little bird.” Keeping things simple, he’d used his real birth date on the employment paperwork he’d filled out for Lucien all those weeks back, never thinking anyone would trouble to mark the day here on Ibiza. He’d assumed it would slide under the radar, another unwelcome link to his real life. He guessed he hadn’t bargained for Lucien’s eye for detail.

Kara slid off the stool, her drink in her hand. She was wearing another of her club work outfits, this time a strapless black dress that finished mid thigh and gave her a cleavage that Dylan couldn’t keep his eyes off. She worked it for his benefit, wriggling her shoulders as she loosened his tie and unpopped his top button. A slow, sensual fire licked low in her gut. He looked sexily dishevelled, like the late night bartender in all the best movies.

“Come on birthday boy. Since you haven’t offered me a slice of your birthday cake, I thought you might like to choose yourself a present.”

"No cake," he said. "I don't want you getting a sugar rush and passing out on me."

She trailed his tie over her shoulder as she walked away, not turning because she knew he’d be behind her. She headed towards the boutique, but as they reached reception Dylan drew back, pinning her suddenly against the wall. He held her captive with his body, his hand braced on the bricks beside her head.

“The only good thing about birthdays is the kisses,” he muttered into her open mouth, then kissed her hard and filthy and made her legs weak. She sank her fingernails into the firmness of his ass and yanked him deeper against her, wrapping her leg around his calf.

“I could fuck you now, right here against this wall,” he whispered, putting his hand up her skirt and rubbing her through the silk of her knickers. “Rip these panties right off and slide my cock inside you.” He pulled the silk to one side and pushed his fingers into her folds. He wasn’t delicate, but it didn’t matter because he was a man who knew exactly how to touch a woman. Who knew when to take it slow, and when to come on hard. He found her clitoris without preamble. “You like that, English? You want me to get you off?” He licked into her mouth and slid his fingers inside her, making her yelp. Yes. Yes. Yes.

But… no!

It was his birthday, and from somewhere in the recesses of her mind she dredged the recollection that she wanted to be the giver first, not the receiver. But with every nerve ending in her body wanting the orgasm he was offering her, it was a Herculean task to put the brakes on.

“Dylan…” she regretfully unwound her leg from his and pushed lightly against his chest. He lifted his head a fraction, his hand still between her legs.

“I want to give you something for your birthday first,” she managed, breathless and almost boneless as his fingers stopped thrusting but carried on caressing.

“Watching you come is all I want,” he whispered, playing his fingertips over her clitoris, his body up close and sensual against hers, his breath in her mouth.

She wanted to come. Really wanted to. She was being pinned against the wall by the man who rocked her world, and he was doing things with his fingers that were probably illegal in several countries. She’d never wanted to come that much in her entire life.

Since the last time, at least.

Dylan’s eyes told her that he really wanted her to come too. They were hot, urgent and mesmerizing, locked on hers.

He pressed his weight harder against her, hitching her thighs apart with his own.

“I’ll stop if you want. Just say the word.”

She wanted to say the word. He licked her lips, his fingers sliding in the slick juices between her legs. She wanted to come. No. She wanted him to come first.

“Don’t fight me, baby,” he murmured, and Kara felt the beginnings of her orgasm glitter in her veins.

She didn’t want to fight him. She was seconds away from not being able to fight him.

Stop. Don’t stop. Never stop…

“Stop,” she croaked, pushing him hard enough to dislodge his hand. Her body cried out for him to come back, but he nodded with a slow, quizzical look and straightened her skirt over her thighs.