Page 103 of The Last Kiss

Flipping us over, he drives home so fast and so deep. I scream his name as I come apart. He shouts his release, clutching me tight as an unexpected warmth fills me with an almost territorial power.

Me Julia.

Henri mine.

His lips land on mine, planting kisses, soaking up tears I didn’t know were there until I taste them on his mouth. Roughly, his hands clasp my face, holding me still, making me look deep into his storm ridden eyes. “I love you, Julia Brown.”

A stupid sobbed whimper leaves my lips, and he kisses it away while I clutch onto him like a lifeboat drifting in the Mediterranean. “And I love you.”

26

Irresistible

“Tell me about Paris.” We’ve been snuggled, curved in warmth, one last flickering candle our only light with the shine of the moon.

“Ugh.”

“Ugh, is not the right response when talking of the capital of lurrve.”

“Ugh.” He drops his hand to cover his eyes and shakes his head. A small smile curves his lips. I want to kiss that smile forever.

“Okay, tell me about the Eiffel Tower. I’ve never been.”

I’m watching him with stalking closeness that I can see his skin blanch in the half light. “Scared of heights, my lover?”

He peeks through his fingers at my use of the label he’d once given himself. “Not heights. Tourists.”

“Well, you know, I’m a tourist, so maybe I should just go and put my clothes on if you don’t like us so much.” I go to get off the bed, but he pulls me back with a firm tug and fits me back against his chest, his arm a barrier so I don’t dare move again.

“I should remind you; we are in a hotel your family owns full of tourists.”

Ha. I’ve stumped him into silence, although I’ve shot below the belt. It’s more than obvious that this venture is led by his maman and not him. He’s happier with his cows.

“I suppose it’s an engineering feat,” he grumbles, and I chuckle against his warm skin.

“Would you think me a foolish romantic if I said I always wanted someone to propose to me at the top of the Eiffel Tower? That they were willing to get down on one knee and submit to the ridiculousness that is the cliché of romance, just for me?”

With gentle fingers he turns my chin. “I really am very scared of heights.”

Snorting a laugh, I shake my head. “Don’t worry, Henri, I’ll let you off.”

“You still love me though?”

“Until my dying day.” Turning, I crane my neck to kiss his cheek, not letting him see the rogue tear that escapes my eye.

“Now the Louvre is worth a visit. Sometimes when Gabriella is at her most frustrating, I just walk the corridors, taking some time.”

“Why is she frustrating?” I squidge myself over so I can see his face properly, the expressions that dance in the candlelight.

“Because she doesn’t take anything seriously.”

Pursing my lips, I contemplate this. “Should life be serious?” I can tell him right now that it shouldn’t. I’ve got my membership pin badge for that group.

“No.”

“So why is she frustrating?”

He scowls at the ceiling.