Page 100 of The Last Kiss
I grin, my face muscles the only ones still working.
Chill sis, just want you to know. I haven’t told you enough.
Has he drugged you? Do I need to send a rescue party?
Laughing, I show Henri and he presses on the voice message button. “Non, not drugged, next time you can come along and feel the magic for yourself.”
My chest hollows. Liv and I both know there won’t be a next time.
There might not be a next week.
I slide my phone under the pillow and turn to face him. “Henri, I need to tell you something.”
He just watches me.
The damn words. They just don’t want to form, don’t want to break this spell.
“Tomorrow.” I nod. “Tomorrow.”
“Go to sleep, mon coeur. I’ll wake you for some food shortly.”
“But what about the beautiful dress?”
“I don’t care about dresses, Julianna.” He leaves his words dangling. He only cares about me, and I’m lying to him, another night of secrets.
“Julianna?” A gentle kiss on the edge of my jaw brings me back around. I blink, confusion muddling my thoughts when the room is lit with sunlight—damn it, he let me sleep too long. When I can make sense of the room, I understand it’s candlelight not sunlight illuminating the walls and surfaces with a golden haze.
“Did you do this?” I struggle to sit up, breath still too shallow. How the hell did this happen so fast? Bastard Sod’s law that’s what.
The room is lit by an uncountable number of candles. Big ones, church ones, small tea lights.
“It’s nothing.” He shrugs. Do I love his shrugs or hate them? Sometimes it’s hard to decide.
At the foot of the bed is a room service trolley complete with gleaming silver-domed lid. “Would you hate me if I said I wasn’t hungry?”
Dark eyes meet mine. “Would you hate me if I said you had to eat anyway?”
“Touché.”
I shuffle forward, automatically keeping my movements small so as to not overexert my breathing.
Bastard bloody lungs.
Bastard bloody heart.
Why the fuck is this happening now? Yesterday I was shagging in a barn… actually, now I think about it…
Henri’s expression is torn and pained. “Stay there.”
Stretching up off the mattress, he walks for the trolley and lifts the lid before shooting me a grin. “It’s only cheese and biscuits anyway.”
“Good, I love a bit of cheddar.”
Stalking back, plate in hand, he fixes his lips to mine. “Heathen.”
“Cheese snob.”
I submit to his mouth, falling into the kiss with everything I have left. When he pulls away those damn stabbing tears prickle my eyes again.
