A bead of sweat—hers or his, he didn’t know—wandered over her skin and trailed down her side.
Hers or his.
He still didn’t know her name.
Remorse settled over him. He should have found out what her name was. He should have been more restrained.
He shouldn’t even be here.
Her sides heaved, and her breath rasped in her throat. “Oh, my God. You did it.Twice.I think I’m going to die.”
He whispered, “What’s your name?”
Her shoulder was a curve of pale skin on the dark blue duvet. “Dree.”
Odd name. Must be short for something. “I’m—”
“Don’t tell me,” she said, still panting. “Or lie to me. Don’t tell me your real name. Any name but your real one.”
The orgasm still reverberated in his mind, making a muddle of his thoughts. “What?”
“Not your real name. And remember that you have to leave before morning.” She was murmuring drunkenly into the duvet. “I’m supposed to have a one-night stand with a beautiful man who I’ll never see again. It’s on the list. I don’t want to be able to find you, even if I wanted to. So, not your real name.”
What a weird little girl.Maxence pulled back and kicked his pants off his ankles while he got rid of the condom. He yanked his shirt off her wrists, untying her. His mind was still a blurred mass of smudges.
Dree,for that was the blonde’s name, was wiggling, trying to free herself from the tight, red dress like she was fighting her way out of a cocoon. She’d gotten her elbows inside the red roll of elastic around her waist.
He helped her, pulling at the straps and finally locating a zipper.
She popped out of it like a sausage splitting its casing, sucked in a few panicked breaths, and tossed the red fabric over the footboard and onto the floor.
The bed was a four-poster.Damn.He really should have made use of those.
Four posts.
Three.
The Trinity.
“Augustine,” Maxence said, almost chuckling with the rightness of it. “My name is Augustine.”
“Like, St. Augustine?” Dree asked, rolling and wriggling to get under the covers. “Like,The City of God,that St. Augustine?”
The City of Godwas St. Augustine’s most famous book, yes.
Maxence rolled naked onto the bed and pulled the duvet over himself. The room had turned chilly in the December night. “More like when Augustine was younger. Like his prayer, ‘God, grant me chastity and sobriety, but not yet.’”
Her chuckle was slow at first but sped up to a laugh.“‘But not yet.’”
The double bed had two pillows, so Max commandeered one and grasped the voluptuous Dree, pulling her against himself and spooning her. “‘Not yet.’ Maybe someday, God will grant me chastity and sobriety, but He has not done it yet.”
“Well, I’m glad God hasn’t answered your prayer for chastity yet, Augustine, because that wasspectacular.”
Damn, that was gratifying.
As he was drifting off, she asked, “What’s that tattoo on your back? Or your arm?”
But Maxence was already descending into sleep, and he couldn’t make his mouth move.
