Disclaimer; I don't own the X-MEN
THREE.
Two hours later, Remy Lebeau sat on one of the Comfortable green sofas strategically placed around Anna-Marie's living room. His golden brown hair that usually hung like a curtain around his face was swept back into a queue at the base of his neck that defined his delicate aristocratically features. High cheekbones, long Gaelic nose, full sensual lips, stubborn jaw.
He wore a coal black Hugo Boss suit, dark blue dress shirt and a black tie that complimented his naturally olive bronzed skin and his tall lanky build. His size eleven feet were encased in custom made Ralph Lauren leather shoes. The only time he dressed up was when he was meeting clients. Usually, he wore a black t-shirt, jeans, leather boots and his brown trench coat.
He checked his watch, relaxing back into the sofa when he realized that the still had an hour and the half to spare before they had to be at the venue. As he looked around the room, he could not help but smile. While his living room was organized, furnished with antiques and centered around one theme color. Anna-Marie's was messy, filled with modern furniture and knickknacks of all colors. She had opted to paint the walls a pale-blue with gold leaves around the border. Her living room was airy with lamps in each corner.
Hearing a rustle of clothing behind him, he turned to towards the doorway that led from the bedrooms and bathrooms to the living room. As he looked at the figure standing by the doorway, smiling nervously, his jaw dropped and his pupils dilated, drool practically dripping from his mouth.
Anna-Marie stood a beguiling picture in a floor-length figure hugging dress featuring a high-necked evening gown with a black velvet bodice that hugged her upper body, a blue satin skirt with a silver ribbon accent which clung to her waist and flowed down to her feet. Her nervous fingers clutched a black-diamond studded velvet-evening bag. Diamond half moon earring twinkled on her ear. And as she walked towards him, the dress shifted over her legs, reveling black strappy stilettos heels.
"What are you staring at, swamp rat?" she asked, her southern accent thickened, a sign of her acute nervousness.
He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her; an" Hmm" was all he could manage.
Her usual gothic make-up was gone and in its place was more subtle makeup. Her waist length corkscrew curled hair usually in a French braid was let loose to tumble down her back. a thin silver head band securing it. The twin stripes of straight silvery white hair left to frame her heart-shaped face.
For a few minutes, all he could do was stare. Then he scraped his hanging jaw off the floor and stood up, holding out a hand to her. As she placed her smaller hands in his, he tugged her gently so that she spun and landed between the curve of his arms. Wrapped in his arms, she could not help but drown deeply into the swirling red on black mass that was his eyes. As if in a haze, she lifted one long, pale finger to trace his cheekbones, down to the slightly stubbled line of his jaw and up to trace the line of his full lips. Closing her eyes, her hands drifted back to her side as she sighed softly burying her face into the curve of his neck.
Eyes hooded, lips parted to draw in much needed oxygen, he stared down into Anna-Marie's thick midnight burgundy hair, trying to clear his muddled head, but his mind's eye would not help matters by replaying what she'd just done over and over.
He had watched breath abated as she traced his features with an elegant, milky white finger. He swallowed the lump of uncertainty that had permanently become lodged in his throat as he remembered the tug of desire and yearning in his heart, that he had felt while watched her dreamy expressional face.
Abruptly the doorbell rang, its chimes dissolving the dream-like atmosphere. Anna-Marie stiffened in his arms and started to pull away, now realizing what she had been doing. Inwardly, he cursed but allowed her to pull away. He watched as she physically and mentally retreated from him, smoothing shaky hands over her top.
(Good,) he thought to himself. (She as affected by this as I am.)