Page 29 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
He smiled and brought his mouth to mine once more. Shyly, I tasted his lips with my tongue, and I was rewarded with a low moan from the back of his throat as well as the soft stroke of his tongue against mine, just once.
Oh my God. I’m shaking, I want him so badly.
I pulled back slightly. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The word was out before he even finished the question. “And I want to tell you something.” I put a hand on his chest. It was warm and hard, and damn, I wanted to see it naked. “I do not now, nor will I ever, think you’re anything less than a perfect gentleman, OK? I can tell that you’re worried about something—maybe moving too quickly or being too forward or maybe it’s the whole canceled wedding thing—”
“All of the above.”
“—but unless you’ve got a girlfriend back in New York or a criminal past or a creepy insect collection at your apartment, I really, really, really want to come over.”
He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way I liked. “No, no, and definitely no. I only want to be sure you’re comfortable with it.”
“I am.” I gave him a quick kiss on the lips for being so sweet. “I like you, Lucas. And I know exactly what I’m doing.”
That was a huge lie. Enormous. The Arc de Triomphe of lies.
I wanted Lucas like crazy, if my underwear was any indication. But I had no idea what I was doing.
I just knew that I liked it.
We didn’t talk a lot on the way to his apartment, but he held my hand the entire time, and I had to try really hard not to start skipping. Had it really been just last night I was s
huffling down these streets, miserable and alone, hating couples acting just like we were right now? It seemed impossible to believe how my luck had completely reversed.
“This is my street.” Lucas turned left, giving my hand a squeeze.
I glanced around, taking in the seven-story buildings of light stone with detailed entrances and decorative iron railings on the windows. At the street level were a few shops and cafes, but mostly it appeared to be a residential street. I saw no other people out and about and only one car passed us as we walked. “Quiet neighborhood.”
At least until I start screaming your name.
Jesus, Mia, stop it! What if he’s not thinking what you’re thinking?
“It is, pretty much,” Lucas said, letting go of me to take a key from his pocket. He went up to a large set of black double doors under a stone pediment and stuck his key in the one on the right. Then he paused to look over his shoulder at me, a grin on his face. “But I have double-paned windows, so we can be as loud as we want.”
Oh, he’s so thinking it.
I slapped him lightly on the back. “You’re awfully confident.”
He pushed open the door and stood back to let me enter first, a look of exaggerated innocence on his face. “I meant when I play you some records. Didn’t you want to look at my vinyl?”
His naked ass was what I wanted to look at, but I thought that might be too forward to say, so I just bit my lip and moved past him into the building.
“I’m on the third floor.” He took my hand and we climbed the stairs, my anticipation rising with each step.
He unlocked the apartment door and pushed it open, again allowing me to enter first. I gasped when he switched on some overhead lights.
“Oh my God, it’s beautiful!”
The apartment wasn’t big, but it was so stylish and well-appointed, I couldn’t imagine needing anything more. Straight ahead was a living room, and immediately to the left was a tiny but gleaming kitchen—all white with black granite counters. The floors were polished light wood, with a black and ivory chevron rug in the living room.
Lucas switched on a lamp, and I wandered deeper inside, turning in a full circle to admire the warm colors and classic décor, which was somehow elegant and masculine at the same time. The ceiling and moldings were white, but the walls were painted a warm taupe. Against the wall to the right was a brown velvet antique sofa, above which hung three large framed mirrors.
Two huge, floor-to-ceiling windows faced the street, each bracketed with long chocolate-colored silk drapes held back by thick rope tassels. Taking a breath, I turned to my left and drifted into the bedroom area, which was behind an antique dressing screen.
The double bed had a plain ivory, rectangular headboard that looked like it was upholstered in leather but I wasn’t close enough to touch it—yet. With my stomach jumping, I took in the wall behind the bed, which was papered in brown and white geometric shapes. The bold look was softened by a huge square print of a white rose hanging above the bed.
