Page 88 of The Last Kiss
“Lethal.” His smile grows, but then falters. “What’s wrong with you, Julia? And please don’t brush this, uh, under the carpet.” I love it when he has to search for words.
I open my mouth and then jam it shut again. At the door to his suite he pauses, cocking his head, arching a brow.
“It’s just from when I was ill. I told you about it. I’ve never quite been the same since.” This is the damn truth. Not the whole truth, but a version of it I can articulate to this beautiful man.
“You should have said if you didn’t feel good, I would never have taken you to dinner.”
“I didn’t want to let you down. I hate considering myself as weak.”
“Weak? Says the woman who flew to France in a bid to find a miserable bastard of a man who’d been too grumpy to call her the last two weeks.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” I tease a smile. “So, a guardian, hey?”
He drops his head, fingers looping in mine. “Are you cross?”
“Cross? No. Surprised maybe.”
“It was Maman’s idea.”
Hmmmm… I’m sure it was.
“You know she doesn’t seem as heart-broken as perhaps I expected her to.”
“She’s up and down. Grief is a funny thing, no?”
“I guess.”
“Come, let’s get you asleep. I’ve got lots planned for tomorrow.”
Chewing on the side of my mouth, I know I’ve got to say something. “Henri, sorry. I know it sounds weak, but I think I need to take things easy.”
He watches me carefully in response. “I can see a change in you, Julia.” Plucking up my hand, he presses it against his chest above his heart. “It makes me get this tight feeling here that I don’t know how to explain.”
I close my eyes to the truth, to his ability to read me. That this man I’ve known a matter of months and seen only a handful of times knows me better than anyone. There’s a bitter tang on my tongue that maybe I wish I’d met him sooner.
“You are shrouded in grey, when you should be every colour under the sun.” He presses a soft kiss to my mouth.
“You can make me shine like a rainbow.” Tears sting my eyes. Life, you cruel bitch, you’ve done a number on me. “How many steps to bed?” I smile with my question, already knowing the answer.
Silently, he lifts me up. Not our usual hold of my legs clamped around his waist, mouths hot and needy. This time he lifts me like a bride and carries me with reverence over the threshold and into his domain.
The room is beautiful. Everything an old-fashioned, green-hued white: the woodwork, the ceiling, the walls. Simple oak furniture blends in with the setting, while thick brocade curtains block the stars and moon. He places me gently on my feet and I walk for the golden material, sweeping it to one side to fill the room with pale silver. His fingers sweep my hair from my neck, lips brushing my skin with butterfly light kisses.
“It doesn’t feel real being here.” I say it to the moon.
“It’s perfect you being here.” His fingers tug on the zip of the dress, slowly lowering it down and then pushing it off my shoulders. “I wish you could stay forever.”
A sharp stab harpoons my heart, a reminder of all the reasons why I can’t stay. “I wish I could too.”
He guides me to the bed and lays me down. “Don’t move,” he murmurs, slipping down my body and beginning to kiss every inch of my skin. I don’t move a muscle until his delicate tongue seeks out my core, slipping inside me, making me arch off the bed as I shiver and tremble in a way that etches a profound truth into my skin. When I’m still panting and settling my heart, he gathers me into his arms and holds me tight.
“If I asked you to stay, would you?” He yawns and kisses my ear.
“With all my heart,” I say, because I’m pretty sure when I go home I’ll be leaving what little is left of it here with him. I can’t fight the tears, and I know he knows I’m crying, but he doesn’t say anything, just holding me tight as the lie I’ve created between us takes its hold.
Truth is, I just don’t have a heart to give.
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