Page 60 of The Last Kiss

I push down whispered memories of the past. “Well, I guess it’s not that fast. We’ve known each other months now.”

He stretches a smile that could stop traffic. “Exactly.”

Grabbing his hand, I pull him down the short hallway and into the main living space. He stops at the door. “Wow, this is very…”

“Small.” I fill in for him. It is and having a massive Frenchman in it is shrinking the cubic square foot by the second.

“I was going to say grey.”

I try to see it from his eyes, turning to take it in. Okay, so there are a few grey things. Walls, cushions, sofa, I wouldn’t say it’s totally grey.

I launch for one of the scatter cushions and hold it up. “This is mustard.”

Henri shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

I know it’s not. “I’ve got ferns,” I whimper.

He slowly turns on the spot. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and she lives in a square box.” His eyes meet mine. “Ma petite, fate really was bringing us together for a reason.”

I narrow my gaze. “I’m not a pity subject. I like my life. I like my home. It’s exactly what I need and that’s all that matters.”

His eyebrow speaks for him.

“So would you like a cup of tea or something?” When in doubt, offer tea. My childhood training taught me that much.

He smirks. Bastard. “No, Julianna, I do not want a cup of tea.” His gaze turns smoky, and my stomach drops as he paces to where I’ve put some cooling space between myself and my unexpected visitor.

“What I really want is to fuck you on one of these boringly grey surfaces to bring it all to life a little.”

“What?” I don’t get to protest any further because he has me in his arms, his mouth seeking mine, licking at the seam begging for entry. “Liv is going to call any moment,” I pull away to gasp. His hand runs under the cotton of my blouse, brushing my skin and erupting me hot and cold all at once. His mouth finds mine again. His kisses taste like little droplets of heavenly nectar. “She’s going to be furious when that bear turns up. It doesn’t match her colour scheme.” Another word-stealing kiss. I’m out of air. “It’s bigger than Paige’s bedroom.”

“I have no concern.” His lips drop to my throat, teeth on skin. Gasping, I drop my head back and his fingers make light work of my blouse, pushing it and my cardigan into a pile on the floor. Reaching behind, he unhooks my bra, teasing it gently off my shoulders, and then drops that too. My nipples harden at the exposure, at the unexpected, delectable delight of being freed in the middle of the living room on a Friday afternoon. They pebble and wait patiently for a touch. It doesn’t come. He stares at them from under thick, dark lashes. Slowly, he lowers his head and pulls one into his mouth. Instinctively I arch my back, my lessons in ballet recommencing at his touch. One of his hands runs around the curve of my spine, supporting me or holding me closer so he has full control; either way it’s making me quiver.

“Henri,” I gasp his name, it falls from my lips like I’ve never not known it.

“What is it?” He lets go of my nipple, glancing at me, eyes dark.

“Sofa. I think the sofa should be the first grey surface.”

Chuckling, he sweeps me up and stalks for the IKEA special before lowering me down like I’m a goddamn Swedish queen on a throne made of manmade fabric. With his big palms he rolls me onto my front, my face and tits crushing into the cushions. The zip of my skirt fills the air, his thumb running down the V-shaped opening along the edge of my lace knickers.

God, I love his hands.

Crave his touch.

He swears in French before swiftly converting to English. “What is this cat doing? Can’t it see I’m busy?”

I snort into the sofa. “He’s hungry. Here, let me feed him.”

I go to push up, but his hand holds me down. “I’ll go. You must stay where you are.”

My last shred of feminist rights shrivel inside me and die a sad and lonely end as I heat with scorching fire through every blistering part of my body.

“Tin on top of the microwave.”

Cool air rushes across my back as he moves away.

I wait with bated breath as the clatter of biscuit hitting china and the wild miaow of Barney tells me the beast has been sated.