Page 48 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
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Which was ridiculous. I wasn’t in love with him. I couldn’t be. I’d just met the guy two days ago.
I was in love with the way he made me feel during sex, the way he worshipped my body, and let me worship his. We had really incredible sexual chemistry, that was all. And he was a cool person. I’d never had a fuck friend before, so it was only natural that there would be some confusion in my brain about what it all meant.
It means you can enjoy yourself with him without worrying about a relationship. It means you can have amazing, guilt-free sex because there are no expectations. It means no one cares if this is just a rebound fuck fling, so enjoy it while it lasts and then go home and move on with your real life.
Yes. I could do that. I could totally do that.
Couldn’t I?
It had stopped raining, and Lucas wanted to take me to dinner in Montmartre. “The food’s not amazing, but I want you to hear something.”
“I’m up for anything,” I said, pulling on my jeans. “Although I wish I had new clothes. These are a little bit damp.”
“This place is totally casual, I promise.” He came up behind me and kissed my shoulder. “And I love the little top you have on, anyway.”
“Thanks. But what I really wish I had are my hair products. Yours are sadly lacking.” I slipped my feet into my flats. Ugh, those were soaked too.
“Sorry. Would it help if I told you I think you’re gorgeous no matter how crazy your hair gets?” Lucas pulled a clean shirt from his closet and began to button it up. It gave me a warm little bloom of pleasure in my belly to watch him dress…it seemed personal and intimate. Like we’d known each other for much longer than we had.
I smiled. “Some. But would it be too much to ask to run by the Plaza?”
“Nothing you ask of me is too much.”
My heart stopped beating to balloon in my chest, and then galloped furiously ahead, as if to make up for the lost time.
Quit saying things like that. I’m getting confused.
I thanked him and picked up my jacket, looking away on purpose. It was dangerous to let emotion into this. I’ll have to work harder to control it, keep reminding myself what we are, and more importantly, what we are not.
To save time, we took a cab to the Plaza, and I invited Lucas to come up to my room while I changed.
“Wow. Pretty fancy,” he said, taking in the opulent suite.
I felt embarrassed for some reason, and I didn’t want him to think I was spoiled and always traveled this way. “It’s way more than I need, really. I’d have been happy with something smaller, but this was already paid for.”
“I remember.” Lucas eyed the roses and the bed before wandering into the sitting area. Lowering himself onto the couch, he glanced at the newspaper I’d left on the coffee table this morning.
I stripped off my jacket and kicked my shoes into the closet. “I’ll just be a minute or two.”
“Take your time.”
Although I couldn’t see him from where I stood, his voice sounded a little funny to me. Was it because of the reference to Tucker? I shouldn’t have brought him up here. He’s probably uncomfortable being in a suite my ex-fiance booked for our honeymoon. But what could I do besides hurry up?
I hung my damp clothing up in the closet to dry out, threw my underwear in my laundry bag, and went to the dresser to choose something dry.
When I opened the top drawer, the Aubade lingerie peeked out at me. I was tempted to put it on, but I didn’t want Lucas to see me do it. It would be better if he discovered it underneath clothes, or somehow came home to find me wearing it.
Came home to find you wearing it! Have you lost your mind?
We were not a couple. There was no home. I’d best remember that.
Scowling a little, I pushed the beautiful br
a and panties aside and took out something more basic. From the lower drawers I picked out a clean pair of jeans and dug around for a new top. Hmm, what would Lucas like to see me in? He said he’d liked the little cami I’d had on today, but I was guessing that was mostly because it showed some skin. I didn’t have another cami like that, but I did have a black off-the-shoulder top I thought he’d like. I kept my strapless bra on and shimmied into a pair of skinny black pants and the top. My flats were too wet to wear again, so I decided to go for heels—black and strappy with little gold studs. If I had to walk a lot, so be it. Sometimes, beautiful hurts.
In the bathroom, I threw my hair up in a messy bun and touched up my face.
