Page 78 of The Last Kiss

I try to pull away, self-respect and all that, but he has me firmly by the arms. “Pretty sure I’m in a nightmare,” I mutter.

His lips brush mine and my traitorous body liquifies at the touch. “Where are you running to, ma petite fleur?” And just like that he has me.

It’s what I’ve been craving. What I’ve been living for, forcing myself on for; one more petite fleur.

I’ve heard it now. I can leave.

Or I can let his tongue steal into my mouth, seeking me out as I gasp into his embrace, hot tears stinging down my cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” Henri shifts back, thumbs brushing away my overwhelm.

“I thought... I thought... I’m sorry I came. I just… just wanted to see you.”

Lowering his forehead, he rests it on mine. “I’m so sorry, Julianna, I hoped to come back by now. Things have been difficult.”

I’m loosely holding onto the fact that difficult might not mean a blonde. But then he just had his tongue in my mouth. Unless that’s a French thing I haven’t been made aware of. No, they definitely do the two-kiss thing, three if they really like you. I think tongue rates above that.

Those midnight eyes shine in the sun. “I can’t believe you are here.” He’s stepping back now, cool air scented with flowers rushing between us as he shakes his head. “This is crazy.”

I wince and pull a face. “Do I get a stalker award?”

“You get the best gift known to man award.” His face, which seemed shadowed with lines as I saw him walking towards me brightens, a luminosity directed straight at me like I’m the moon to his sun.

“Bonjour?” The blonde woman: immaculate cut shift dress; hair running like honey hanging down her shoulders, steps between us. “Henri, tu as les manières d'un porc.” Her accent is lyrical like his. “You must be Julianna?” she adds in English. Sexy English too.

“Uh, yes.” I have nothing else. I can’t hazard a guess who she is, apart from maybe my arch nemesis.

Henri chuckles. “She just said I have the manners of a hog. She could have said it in English, but I guess she didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Oh,” I smile up at her and instantly hate her on the spot. She has cheekbones you could ski off-piste off, long thick eyelashes, and that natural golden glow that looks like she jogs down the beachfront every day dressed only in a thong bikini.

“Odile is a family friend.”

She links her arm through mine, leading me away from Henri. “We were just going for lunch to discuss his dear maman.” Her English is faultless. I hate her even more.

“Oh, no.” He grabs me back. He’s so tanned and bloody gorgeous. How have I been missing this? His hair is longer, just a fraction, enough for it to curl around his ears and wave across his forehead. The suit, cut to fit his skin, is missing. Instead, he’s wearing Henri a la Casual, a delectable and almost dreamy combination of pale-blue cotton shirt and navy chinos. On his feet are… are… leather sliders.

Who is this man? Where’s the man mountain in the suit?

“Sorry, Odile, but it’s been weeks since I’ve seen Julia. We will catch up with you later.”

“What will we do?” I breathlessly whisper.

His eyebrow arches and it stabs me down deep in my stomach how much I’ve missed it. “What we do best.”

“Henri!” My cheeks scorch, while Odile looks on with a wide and gleeful smile and holds her hands up.

“Well, I am not getting in the way of that,” she laughs. “I’ll head back, Henri. See you this afternoon?” She clicks her tongue and gives a small shake of her head, turning and waving over her shoulder. “If you can manage it.”

His eyes are on me. “Honestly, I don’t know what you two think I mean. I was proposing lunch, that’s all.”

“That’s good. We can’t go back to my hotel. The woman on reception is a dragon.”

“You’re here?” He grabs me again and I fall against him, breathing properly in what feels like the first time in weeks.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“I’m never going to let you leave.”