Page 79 of The Last Kiss

“Well, now that makes you the stalking weirdo.” I don’t get to say anymore because his mouth is on mine, weeks’ worth of kisses raining down on me with the power of a fire storm.

19

Chocolate

Our hands are merged like lovers, fingers sliding into grooves, palms pressed tight. “So, tell me about this hotel with the dragon?”

He doesn’t ask me why I’ve come, what I’ve been doing. Days and weeks have disintegrated into dust as we’ve stepped in to being side by side. We could still be walking the path from Liv’s house after Paige’s birthday. Admittedly the weather is a damn sight better.

An inbuilt intuition can sense his perceptive gaze as it subtly reads me, and I know he can see the changes even if he’s not mentioning them yet. I smile widely to try to make the dark shadows of exhaustion disappear from my face. Wishful thinking maybe, but worth a keen shot. “Henri, I can’t believe you live in a place as beautiful as this.” I’m still looking at the crowded buildings, the cramped streets with blasts of sunshine that hit you right in the face as you walk, turning from shade to heat in one step of footfall. Walking down these paths, Henri’s hand in mine seems on the verge of familiarity, like possibly I’ve done this before, in a different life. I can only hope that life wasn’t as tragic as this one.

“It’s more beautiful now than it’s ever been.”

A grin stretches my face, chasing off more of those shadows. “Oh, my goodness, look at that.” I point at the window of a patisserie. Macarons are stacked high around perfectly glazed cakes with surfaces like mirrors. My stomach gives a pitiful growl.

“You’d like cake for lunch?”

God, yes. I think I would. I nod eagerly and bite on my lower lip. “Would that make me an uncultured heathen, no salad first?”

“Ma douce, Julianna. There is nothing heathen about you.” He leans in closer, breath brushing my earlobe. “Apart from maybe what you make me want to do to you in bed.”

My body lights with the whoosh of a rocket launching for space, and he chuckles, running the tip of his finger across my cheekbone with a delicate touch and a small shake of his head. “You’re really here,” he says, his lips lowering to mine, body pressing flush into my curves causing me to tingle all over.

“I am. I hope that’s okay.”

Pulling back slightly, stealing the kiss away, he holds my face still. “You have no idea. No idea how much I’ve wanted to see you. Teasing telephone calls only made me more despondent.”

“But you didn’t come though?” There’s a pathetic edge to my question. “The last time we saw one another, we…”

“Took a step?” His eyes dance and I want to fall into their rhythm and get carried away like those girls in fairy books who follow the tune and never come back to mortal life again.

“Yes.”

“We did, but Maman, she’s been...” His expression darkens. “There is so much on my shoulders, Julia.” I lay my hand on his chest, willing to take the burden he carries despite not being strong enough to carry my own.

“It’s okay, you don’t owe me any explanation. We didn’t make any promises.”

With a small step he clears space between us. “Julianna, you’ve stolen my heart and you don’t even realise it.”

My chest rises and falls with a ragged unevenness: part the act of dying, part emotional splintering.

I’ve stolen his heart too late to enjoy it.

But I came here to live and live I will. One week of high octane, full sensory living.

“Henri, I…” I’m going to tell him, going to be honest, but he’s looking at me like a goddess, like I shine brighter than anything else in existence, and I can’t stand for him to see me as broken instead.

My stomach gurgles and he laughs, tucking me into his side and pressing a kiss on my forehead.

“You need cake, ma petite, and cake you shall have, just like Marie Antionette.”

“Didn’t she lose her head because of the cake?” I giggle, snuggling deeper, rightfully home in this strange land with flowers and sunshine and him.

“Maybe you’ll lose your heart.” He shrugs and my eyes meet his. Yep, it’s way too late for that. It’s been signed, sealed and effectively delivered by easyJet.

“Close your eyes,” he demands.

“You can’t keep doing this every time we eat. It’s embarrassing.” It’s not embarrassing, it’s sexy as hell, but a girl has to keep some pretence up to hide the fact that she needs to go back to the hotel ASAP.