Page 24 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
“Hey, you. No frowning.”
I looked over at Lucas. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“What about?”
I finished my wine and set the glass down with a clank. “Sex.”
Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. “Should I get the check?”
Dissolving into gigg
les, I dug into my bag for my wallet and took out my credit card. “Yes, but not for that reason. I want to see more Paris today. And I want to pay for lunch.”
“No.” Lucas pushed my hand away when I tried to lay down the card. “My treat. I chose an expensive bottle of wine.”
“So what? I loved it! Please let me pay for lunch. You’ve been so nice to spend this entire day showing me around.”
“I wanted to do that. It was my idea, remember?”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. Put your card away. You can buy our next bottle of wine, OK?”
I dropped my hand to my lap, nodding once. “I like the way you think, Lucas Fournier.”
#
Outside the restaurant, Lucas asked what I wanted to do next.
Make out with you.
The thought slammed into my head with astonishing speed, and I tried to banish it just as quickly. What if he wasn’t feeling any chemistry between us?
“Hmmm. Let’s see—we’ve done a monument and a cemetery, so I’ll vote for a museum or a cathedral.”
Lucas looked skyward, where the sun was trying hard to peek through heavy clouds. “Well, the light’s not awesome for stained glass windows but I think it might be even worse tomorrow, so let’s do a cathedral.”
“Notre-Dame?”
“You got it.”
We took the Metro to a stop a few blocks from the Seine, and rather than switch to another line to get closer, we decided to walk. The day had warmed up and gotten a little humid, so I shrugged out of my sweater and tied it around my waist.
“So I have to ask,” said Lucas, who’d been pretty quiet since the restaurant. “Why were you thinking about sex before?”
Because watching you drink wine made me hot in the pants. I glanced over at him and decided to go with a different reason. “Because Tucker was boring in bed.”
“What?”
I held up my hands. “Truth. I used to offer, in an effort to improve what was not a very interesting or mutually satisfying part of our relationship, to do more fun things than we were doing, but he had a routine that worked for him and didn’t really feel it was necessary to deviate from it.”
Lucas stopped walking and stuck a hand out in front of me to halt my steps. “Tell me you’re not serious.”
I laughed. “I’m serious. He didn’t even like blowjobs. Maybe he heard that story about the French President and got scared.”
Lucas stared at me for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Nah. I’m pretty sure he was just an asshole who didn’t know what he had. You deserve a lot better.”
Was it the compliment or the alcohol that gave me the fleeting urge to reach over, grab him by the cardigan and smash my lips to his? What would he do? He said flirty things to me sometimes, but other times he acted totally platonic and casual, even a little aloof. Was he waiting for me to make the first move?
