Page 80 of The Last Kiss

“We’re in France, this is practically pre-approved date behaviour.”

“And we’re on a date.”

“Belle, Juliette, every moment between us is a date of perfection.”

Well, when he says it like that. Acquiescing, I close my eyes, popping open my mouth gently. Henri has ordered the most decadent chocolate cake and dutifully I wait for him to plant a small taste in my mouth. Obviously, I can feed myself, being a grown woman and all, but hell if this isn’t some sort of foreplay that should be passed down in folklore, from one man to another. Forget the bases, go for food porn.

A blast of bitter chocolate hits my tongue first and I start backwards, my tastebuds almost fighting against the bitterness that I thought would be sweet. The sugar comes second from the sponge; moist and sweet, it counterbalances the dark cocoa creating a perfect marriage in my mouth.

“Oh my god,” I mumble around the mouthful of heaven.

“Now swallow and sip your coffee.” I crank an eye at the word swallow only to find him smirking. God, I’ve missed that slightly lopsided smirk, love that lopsided smirk.

I swallow the cake and lift the small espresso cup to my lips, waiting for the bitter hit of the strong beans, but it doesn’t come, the sweet sponge still lingering on my tastebuds swipes it clean away.

Lowering the cup, I meet his gaze. “That’s heaven.”

“And watching you is sheer torture. You’re the most sensual creature I know.”

I snort a laugh, which is not sensual in the slightest. “That’s a lovely thought but not true.”

“You really think that?”

“There is nothing sensual about me at all.”

He reaches for the curve of my neck and gently brushes along the skin making me shiver. “The curve of your neck.” The fingers drift higher to my lips which he gently pops open. “The plump edge to your mouth that begs to be kissed.” Uncaring of other people sitting on the bistro style chairs at tables around us he sweeps his finger inside my mouth. “Your tongue that I’ve been fantasising about on my skin the whole time we’ve been apart.”

“You have?” I ask as a gust of air squeezes from my lungs.

“You, ma Julianna, are in my head, my senses, under my skin.”

Stupid tears sting my eyes. “I thought it might just be me who felt like that.”

Lowering his hand, he tangles his fingers with mine, making me hot and needy for tangled limbs and kisses.

“Want to come and meet the dragon at the hotel?” I cock an eyebrow.

“Ah, but ma petite, I don’t want you to think I just want you for your body.” God, I love that smirk.

Picking up my fork, I shove the chocolate cake in my mouth as quickly as I can. I might want Henri, but I’m not leaving this behind under any circumstances.

He snorts when he sees the hotel I’ve chosen, kissing me on the cheek as his arm tightly winds around my back. “What?” I exclaim, holding back my giggle. “It looked pretty in the pictures.”

He glances at the signboard swinging from a wrought iron arm in the gentle breeze and silently arches a sardonic eyebrow, while I pull my best whatever face in response.

The dragon watches us walk in hand in hand, lips in a tight line. I’m about to open my mouth to ask for my key when Henri launches into a volley of French which makes her argue back, shaking her head, and pointing her finger at the computer on the desk. He speaks again, words faster this time, his free hand gesticulating in circles and talking too.

Eventually, and when I’ve started studying the patterns in the marble floor, she hands over my key and he fires off a few remaining words. Silently, we walk for the stairs. As soon as we’re out of sight, I turn. “What on earth was that about?”

“I told her you were checking out,” he tells me with a classic Henri shrug.

“What?” I stare at him aghast. “No wonder she’s annoyed. I’ve booked for a week.”

Another shrug. “You don’t need to stay here when you can be with me.”

“But your mother?”

He shoots me a heart blistering smile. “Don’t worry about that. Anyway, I live half an hour away from the city. It will be too far to have you away from me.”