Dreams

Chapter 10

"Hey," Kerry called out, placing her purse on the hallway table, as she usually did, and ignoring the mail piled there, as was also her habit. "I'm home," she said with a smile as Luke looked up from the laptop he had balanced on his lap. She moved into the room, giving him a soft, leisurely kiss with her hand curled gently in his soft, but short, hair. She pulled away, settling on the couch by his side, and feeling her heart trip gleefully as he casually placed an arm around her waist. "So, what's for supper?"

Luke raised his eyebrows, though his eyes remained on the screen of his computer. Kerry wasn't sure what he was looking at, exactly, but she knew it wasn't porn, or if it was then the formatting of the site looked surprisingly conservative. Luke finally turned to look at her, his eyebrows still hovering somewhere closer to his hairline than they usually rested. "Tonight's take-out night," he reminded her, clearly affronted she forgot.

"I know," Kerry said in her own defence, but in truth, it had completely slipped her mind. "But if I hadn't, then there's an excellent explanation. Like all the excitement that's been going on recently."

Luke gave her a look she couldn't read, which wasn't completely strange, but she had grown quite adept at figuring out half the things he was thinking over the year or so they had been together. She expected him to say something like 'there's no reason to forget take-out night' or 'if you don't understand the importance of take-out night, then I don't think I can marry you.' Instead, he took the hand with the ring on it and brought it up to his mouth and kissed her bejewelled finger.

Kerry gave him a goofy grin.

"I'm thinking pizza."

"Sure," Kerry responded. "Extra cheesy?"

"Of course. It's an affrontal to pizzas everywhere not to get extra cheese. And pepperoni. And maybe onions."

"No onions," Kerry said quickly and firmly. She wasn't all too fond of onions on her pizzas.

"Oh yeah?" Luke asked, giving her a leer and raising his eyebrows in a lewd, playful manner.

Kerry giggled. "You know I just don't like them on my pizza."

"I know," he said with a meaningful smile. "Which is why I already ordered a large pizza without them before you arrived. You know how slow the pizza place is on take-out night."

Kerry gave him a confused glace. She had thought suggesting pizza was unpredictable of her, or at least an original thought. He must have planted the idea in her head at some point, she thought cynically. Maybe in the last week he had said something like "I'm craving pizza" and it had stuck in her head, so that when it was her turn to figure out a meal for them to get, pizza was the obvious choice.

"You always get pizza the week after I order Chinese," he explained with a half-smile, poking her in the side teasingly and then grabbing her around the waist to slide her closer to him. "Now come here and see this. What do you think about the French Riviera?"

"Cote d'Azur," she corrected automatically, looking at the website displayed on his computer screen. "I think it's beautiful," she told him honestly, looking at the picture of beautiful cerulean seas. It was beautiful, but that particular shade of blue coupled with the location on the French shores did something strange to her stomach, though she was doing her best not to think about it.

"I was thinking it would be a great place to honeymoon," Luke told her, looking intently at her face as she gave the ocean view another look. Her stomach turned over again, and she knew what it meant this time. She couldn't keep denying it, unless she wanted to give in to the idea of visiting France.

Without him.

"I don't think so," Kerry mumbled. "Why not the Caribbean instead? It's pretty much the same, only closer and probably cheaper."

"But you love French things," Luke responded with a disconcerted frown. "You minored in French Studies in college."

Yeah, and look where that got her: a constant reminder of her stupid lovelorn obsession on her transcripts; turning down a honeymoon to a place she would love to visit; and that slightly hurt look on Luke's face when he realized that his suggestion had fallen flat and had failed to elicit excitement of any kind.

"There are French things on the Caribbean."

"I was thinking a cruise and not going transatlantic kind of takes the fun out of it."

"A cruise," Kerry said in delight, over emphasizing the excitement in her voice because she felt wretched for disappointing him already. They weren't even married yet. She wasn't quite lying with what she said next, but it was far more forced than it should have been. "I would love to go on a cruise with you," she squealed. "How did you know?" Kerry tucked her knees under her as she turned to kiss his cheek and let her head fall to his shoulder. Beneath the warmth of his chest she could feel his heart beating, and it was gratifying to know the rhythm was for her.

"I love you," she said after he had tucked her up close to her side and subtly smelled her hair.

"You're wearing Eternity today," he guessed.

Kerry responded by pressing her lips against his neck, breathing in his scent. He was all healthy, vital male with an undercurrent of sweat and live flesh. She loved the smell of his neck, especially so soon after he had shaved. It gave her a light-headed buzz to breathe him in, and her hand was worming its way under his shirt as a knock rapped on the door.

"Pizza's here!" Luke said with glee as he disentangled himself.

Kerry sighed, wondering what it was about men which caused them not to notice you were seducing them unless you put your hand down their pants. Especially when food was involved. She sat up and watched him as he placed the box on the table and grabbed some paper plates.

"How hungry are you?" she asked as he peeled a few cheesy slices out of the box, the toppings oozing in strings.

Luke looked at her from over the plates he was holding, a clearly appreciative gleam in his eye as he looked between her and the pizza and then back to her. "I do like cold pizza," he responded thoughtfully.

Kerry snorted, slightly amused. "I guess it depends on which you like more," she said. "Warm pizza or warm sex. Alternatively, I guess you could put it as cold pizza or no sex, because no matter how much you brush you can never get the taste of pepperoni off your breath and I don't like tasting it a second time around."

"Hey!" he said affronted, but made up his mind and dropped the pizza back into the box and advanced towards her.

Kerry giggled, getting up off the couch and backing up towards the bedroom. Her eyes showed amusement as he pretended to lunge towards her and she shrieked with laughter as she dodged him, turning to run towards the door. Luke caught up with her just past the threshold, his strong arms encircling her waist as he hauled her back against his chest. Kerry pretended to resist, weakly kicking him with her heels as he swept her long hair aside and gently scraped his front teeth over her neck.

Kerry shivered, turning towards him and looping her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly, allowing him to deepen the embrace by tilting her head backwards and brushing his tongue across her lower lip. She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, fingers toying at the collar of his shirt as she attempted to unfasten the first button. She was suddenly desperate for the feel of his skin against hers, and she pressed back against him, gently nipping at his lips as she spread open his shirt and shifted her attention to his jaw. As she ran her tongue over the pulse in his neck, she inhaled deeply, feeling the power of his scent curl her toes. She wanted to rip the rest of his shirt off and throw him onto the bed. She wanted to bite down and make him jump beneath her desperate hands. Instead, she licked her way down to his collarbone and finally finished unbuttoning his shirt, spreading it open so her fingers could tickle across his stomach.

Feverishly, she moved on from his chest, her hand sliding down to the waistband of his pants. Luke grabbed her by the hair, forcing her mouth back up to meet his in a heated kiss. Her hand slipped inside his jeans, the stone of her ring accidentally scraping against his erection.

Luke hissed, pushing her backwards onto the bed.

When it was over, Kerry sighed in contentment, stretching herself against Luke's warm body. He murmured into her hair and she smiled, suddenly exhausted and spent from good sex. She snuggled against Luke, and he hummed back to her as she drifted, slowly, off to sleep.

x.x.x

"Look," I said in a prickly tone, "you're just going to have to wait until I've finished this assignment." I gave him a cold look, narrowing my eyes as I noticed him fiddling with the cheap glass award I had won for investigative journalism at the campus paper. I had also won 'cutest journalist,' but it wasn't quite as dignified, even if I am equally as proud of it. That one was on a bottom shelf where it wasn't immediately visible and I could see as his curious perusal moved closer to it. "Michel," I warned in a stern voice.

It was too late, his excellent eyesight had already read the inscription on the second piece of glass and he quirked a grin at me. Insolently, he straightened with his hands carelessly shoved in his pockets, the image of casual. I almost expected the pose to be a trick. "Cute," he commented. "What's the assignment on?"

"The marching band's trip to the French Riviera," I responded, fingers rapidly flying over the keys on the laptop, though my eyes were still half trained on him.

"Cote d'Azure," he corrected.

"I've already worked that in," I frowned, not enjoying being corrected, especially since I'm minoring in French Studies and probably more of an expert on these things than he was. Especially if he had told me the truth – for once – and really had been born in the Brockport area. Just because his mother tongue was French did not necessarily mean he knew everything about the country. Just like English is my first language and I know shit-all about England (except for where its history overlapped with France). Of course, if he had lied about where he was born and he really was the son of a French aristocrat circa the eighteenth century, then he probably did know way more than me.

Maybe, I thought, I could trick him into revealing his age or at least a birthplace so I could spend disgusting amounts of time reseaching a Michel around his age who had either died or went missing. I could probably turn it into my thesis project. "How much do you know about the area?" I asked.

"Enough," he responded, lounging against the table beside the computer and brushing his knee against mine. He slouched down and looked bored. "I've been there."

"Really?" I asked, giving him my full attention. "I think it would be amazing to see. What's it like?"

"Like any other place," he responded with a shrug. "Obviously I'm distracting you. I'll just wait in your bedroom."

I felt like I should be indignant about his presumptuousness, but I couldn't do more than stare at him and blush slightly, my body tighten with need as he shot me a cocky grin and stood. My hand darted out before my brain had time to react and I grabbed his belt, hauling him back towards me. He shut the computer screen with a snap, almost catching my fingers, as he leaned forward to kiss me. He pushed my chair backwards and it scraped against the linoleum of the kitchen floor until I was far enough away from the table to stand. Instead, he pressed against my shoulder with one strong arm, effectively keeping me in place as he straddled my lap and sifted his fingers though my hair.

I groaned against his mouth, shockingly turned on by role reversal. My fingers tightened across his ass as I bit his lip, hard. He jerked, pressing himself into my lower stomach.

"Bedroom," he muttered, ignoring his own suggestion and weaving his fingers tightly into my hair and hauling back my head. His mouth was demanding against mine, and he didn't hesitate to use his teeth against my lips until the kiss tasted of blood and my mouth was swollen and sensitive.

"Table," I responded breathlessly. We very rarely made it into a bed. Sometimes it was because Michel was far too kinky and imaginative to go for something so completely staid, but mostly, I noticed, it was because once we got started we couldn't take our hands off each other for even the moment it would take to move rooms.

He had me bent backwards over the chair as far as I could go, his body still keeping me seated. My hands were grasping his ass, splayed against them so my fingers could dig into the hard muscle and draw him closer towards me. Michel's hand was beneath my shirt, cool fingers playing with my breast.

"Don't be in such a hurry," he reminded me, but contradicted his leisurely tone by dragging my shirt up over my head and lowering his mouth to my neck. He hit that spot right above the artery, the one his mouth had found so often during my orgasms that just a brush of his lips against it had me arching up towards him.

"Michel," I begged, panting. I could feel his lips curve into a masculine smile against my neck, and he chucked in appreciation. My hand moved from his deliciously curved posterior and cupped against his erection, stroking him through his jeans.

He surprised me again by getting off my lap at a leisurely pace and drawing me to my feet. My knees almost collapsed beneath me as I stood. I was so used to him grabbing me and throwing me down at that rapid, eye-blinking speed of his, that when casually lifted me onto the table at a rate I could follow, I couldn't help but pay attention.

"Enjoy it," he said in a seductive tone. "Feel what I do to you." His fingers were slowly unbuttoning my jeans and I blinked rapidly at him, finding it difficult to catch my breath as he drew my pants down my legs and spread my legs.

Then he moved, his mouth on me and tongue rough inside me, surprising me more than he should have after the slow progression moments earlier.

"Oh Christ," I gasped in shock, my fingers in his hair.

x.x.x

Kerry awoke to a light turning on and groaned, her body still slick from sweat and other fluids. She hadn't been asleep long, she realized groggily, feeling Luke's arm heavy around her waist and his warm hand possessively over her breast. She slid her legs together and sighed, closing her eyes and slowly moving her hand down to between her thighs.

"I may be a bastard," a low voice spoke from beside her head. Kerry's eyes flew open, and she almost jumped out of her skin to find Michel's blue eyes staring into hers. She could see him from the light in the hallway, and it occurred to her that he was probably the one who had woken her up. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating, but then he continued to speak. "But at least you always got off when I fucked you."

Kerry glared at him. "You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed, glaring at him. She could tell he was laughing at her, though his gaze never changed from the slightly-amused mask he always wore.

"I could help you out with that, if you want," he offered with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Kerry blushed suddenly, yanking the sheets up to cover her naked body. She suddenly realized that Michel was crouched beside her bed making sexual innuendoes. Michel was seeing her at her most vulnerable, in bed with another man. "What are YOU doing here?" she asked hostilely.

"There's been another murder," he explained with no preamble about how sorry he was, or how betrayed he felt that she had moved on. No vows of everlasting love, either. She really wasn't dreaming. "You'll probably want to see it."

"You want me to go with you?" she questioned incredulously, casting a worried look over her shoulder at Luke. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up right now and find Michel crouched beside their bed. "I told you I never want to see you again."

Michel smiled at her, the same self-confident grin she had always hated. I know something you don't, he seemed to say. It made her want to slap him again. "Don't worry about quick draw here noticing you're gone," he said, nodding to Luke. "He won't be waking up for a while."

Kerry's eyes widened and then narrowed in venomous fury. "You used your vampire powers on my boyfriend?"

"Fiancé," he corrected, rocking back on his heels as though afraid she was going to lash out. "But then I'd be trying to forget about that too if my boyfriend left me all hot and bothered after sex."

"You're lucky you have such a thoughtful boyfriend," Kerry sniped.

Michel's lips quirked as he stood. "He's the best. Now come on," he said, gesturing towards the door. "I want to get there before the cops traipse all over the scene."

Kerry thought about it for a moment, she honestly did. A good portion of her wanted to do nothing more than play detective with him again, but she realized that it was impossible. She had already tried to move on with her life, and he being in it just complicated things. He was giving her more of a choice than just continuing the investigation, she knew, but she couldn't take him up on his offer. It was difficult enough to let go the first time, but she needed the clean break now, or she'd be forever mourning him.

She focused her eyes on him again, but he had already left. He always had been good at reading the expressions on her face. It was too late for him to see her next reaction, where for the smallest fraction of a second she was sure she had made a mistake, possibly the biggest one of her life.

Instead of chasing after him, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep, ignoring the slight wetness seeping out from beneath her lashes. If Kerry did anything well, it was bury Michel in the past where he belonged.

x.x.x

I was walking with my head down, hair hanging over one shoulder with white flakes of snow clinging to the brown waves. The fancy cobblestone walkway in the historical district was a beautiful attraction to tourists, but on a slippery, snowing evening it was a hazard to walk on even for people who weren't wearing three-inched, open toed heels. It was all I could not to fall. My dignity had dropped out around the point where I had been forced to hold on to a railing with both hands as I inched my way down a flight of stairs.

As I hobbled past the picturesque fountain situated in the center of the plaza, the tinkling of water caused me to pause and watch as the snow played off the illumination coming from within the fountain. It was like there were diamonds dancing above the water. The flurries created a startling fairytale image, the kind where lovers exchange romantic sentiments, or boyfriends knelt on one knee with a sparking ring. For a moment, I barely felt the cold numbing my toes, or worried that I had somehow misplaced my cab money and would have to walk home wearing a tiny dress and even tinier shoes.

I was transported to a place that wasn't real, where I stood next to this fountain and smiled up at the man of my dreams as he brushed a snowflake off my nose with a teasing smile. The snow would contrast wonderfully with his dark hair, and it wouldn't melt as it landed on him. His fingers would be wrapped around mine, despite the fact that we were no longer walking, and when he looked at me it would take my breath away.

"Kerry," he'd say, kissing my knuckles with so I'd notice the sparkle of mirth in his eyes as he glanced up at me through his thick, long eyelashes. "Is beauty worth catching your death of cold?"

At first, I'd assume he was talking about the fountain, but then I'd realize that his eyes were still staring at me. I'd smile, and my heartrate would give a small kick. I couldn't help the reaction, but I knew how much he enjoyed it. He'd let go of my hand, gently placing his fingers beneath my chin in order to lean in for a kiss.

That, I knew, was how it should go. I wasn't surprised that even in a fantasy of romance, he took a starring role. He'd always be the only one, I told myself. He'd always be my prince charming: the man of my dreams.


AN: Yeah, so the sex Kerry has with Michel? I want it.