*OK, we all know there's more to this story than just 3 parts and I have been advised that I'd better supply it or else! So… surprise!*
Part 4 of 3
They stare across the wide gulf between them, the gulf that she can sense is rapidly narrowing as his eyelids slip lower and he gives her a careful watchful look. "Well?" she whispers, "Do you have nothing to say?"
He is very still and she's almost afraid he's going to storm out of the truck… but he doesn't. Instead he husks, "Yes, I have a lot to say but not here, not where we can be seen. And no, I don't want to call him right now." Then he DOES get out of the truck, very slowly, and circles around the front, never taking his fixed gaze off her. Her head turns to watch him as he approaches her door, opens it then just stands there quietly for several moments.
"Last chance, Bordey," he finally gusts low.
He waits. She waits. The wind and waves hush. For a very long moment, the night stills.
Then he nods, reaches in, and scoops her up like she weighs nothing. He turns and bumps the truck door shut with a hip. Her arms go around his shoulders as he strides through the moonlight to his back door where he murmurs, "Top left inner jacket pocket." She thrills to reach inside his armour to fish out the key. He stoops slightly so she can unlock the door. Once inside, she throws the latch and slips the key back into his pocket. All without her feet touching the ground. It's like she's floating. She bites her lip. Soon she hopes to be soaring.
They stand for a long moment just looking at each other in extreme close-up. He seems to be wavering so she whispers, "Why have I never told you how handsome you are?"
His mouth quirks, "Perhaps because I'm not handsome at all?"
She shakes her head vehemently, loosening tendrils, making him moan low. "No, you're more than handsome, Richard, you're fascinating, hypnotic, I can't take my eyes off you. I've never felt like this before. It's like I can see right down into your very soul and I… I…"
His eyes flash with some huge emotion. Hope? Disbelief? He leans in to touch foreheads, an oddly innocent yet sensual move that makes her swoon, and whispers back, "And what? Can you say it? Can you possibly tell me what I need so badly to hear?"
She swallows thickly and husks, "I really hope you need me to say that I… I… oh, god, why is this so hard? Help me, Richard, help me say it! Please. Be brave for both of us."
His arms tighten around her. "All right, I'll help you; I'll help you, be brave, and risk everything." He takes a deep breath, "Do you love me, Camille? Is that what you're trying to say?"
She jerks in his grasp, her heart swelling painfully, "YES! I love you; I really think I love you. Despite everything; my Frenchness, your Englishness, the police protocols, everything! Oh, Richard, I do, I love you." She melts into his embrace and purrs for long moments before she stiffens and mutters, "But you haven't said if… if you…"
He lets her fret for a second before he laughs low and nuzzles her temple, "Oh, Camille, how can you doubt it? I was smitten the first moment I saw you. Everything we've been through; the fights, the arguments, the scares, the boredom, the frustration, everything, it only deepened my feelings until I realized I can't live without you... and I was so afraid that I would have to since a goddess would never notice someone like me… and I'm astounded to learn that she did. So, yes, to answer your sweetly awkward question, I DO love you." He kisses the tip of her nose then smirks, "I also thought awkward was MY thing, not yours."
She harrumphs and scowls prettily, "Well, I've never felt like this before so cut me some rope."
He laughs quietly, stepping away from the closed door, "Slack, dear, the phrase is 'cut me some slack'." Before she can reply, he nudges her knees against the shelf unit at the bottom of his little set of steps, "Third shelf up, right hand side, wine bottle, two glasses, corkscrew."
She reaches blindly up in the dim light, lifts down the four items and chuckles, "Why do I know this is a mature Rioja?"
He scoffs, "Because, luv, you know me too well, the only woman who ever did, I'm thinking."
"Oh, lucky me" she coos as he carries her up the steps, "do I win a prize or something?"
He gently deposits her on the bedside and steps back to take the wine and corkscrew from her, "Well, I hope I don't sound completely witless to say… yes, you won a prize… and it's me."
She hears the quiet 'pop' of the cork and holds up the glasses, "No, Richard, you don't sound witless at all. You sound like a man who found what he's been looking for and it was right under his nose the whole time."
He pours, sets down the bottle and the corkscrew, takes a glass, and gently tinks it against hers, "Yes, right under my very nose. I do hope you forgive me for being so slow."
She lifts her glass in reply, "Yes, mon Coeur, of course I forgive you. After all, you were worth waiting for." She sips and eyes him above the rim, "But, mon amour, the wait is over now." She reaches for him with her free hand only to have him draw back out of reach.
He sets down his glass, "Just let me light a candle, all right? I wish to enjoy your beauty to the fullest." He crosses the room, opens a drawer. Moments later, a soft golden aura surrounds him as he brings a glowing hurricane candle. As he sets the candle down on the bedside table, he murmurs, "I've dreamed of this moment for so long." His eyes gleam like emeralds.
She is speechless with admiration, puts down her glass, holds her arms out to him, "Oh Richard, you're even more lovely by candle light! Tomorrow I will buy every candle in Honoré for you."
He snorts quietly, "You're assuming that you'll still want me tomorrow. The next five minutes might convince you otherwise."
She reaches up, slips his jacket off, drapes it over a nearby chair, "Oh, my golden man with the jungle eyes, I don't think so. I think the next five minutes will see me halfway to heaven and I hope to stay there for a long long time."
He huffs a soft scoff as he slips off his tie and her nimble fingers attack his shirt buttons, "Oh, well, heaven? Don't be too sure. It's not like I've had a lot of practice, you know."
She slides fingertips over soft skin and silken hair as he shrugs out of his shirt, "My love, whether you are practiced or not doesn't matter… although I have to say I am most excited if you are not, I hope that's true, I really do, but I want to be your final lover. Please say you will give me the chance to convince you of this?"
He brushes the dress down her arms, his touch light as a feather, then pulls her to her feet to push the dress all the way down so it falls to the floor, leaving her lovingly limned in all her dark beauty. He is very still for a long time before jerking his gaze back up and whispering into her ear, "I already know, Camille. Even if tonight is a total disaster, I will be your slave forever."
Her hands unclasp his belt, open his zip, reach inside to discover what she so desperately wants to find. At his quiet grunt, she gusts a pleased sigh. He slips out of his shoes, steps out of his trousers, slips off his socks, adding to the growing pile of men's clothing on the chair. "Now," he murmurs, his voice a bit unsteady, "time for us to put our cards on the table, Camille. Let's see if we're blessed or cursed in love, shall we?"
END – part 4