Page 60 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
u meant the view.” He took out a pair of pants, a pale blue shirt, and a dark blue blazer. Then he cleared his throat. “Do you have anything that needs to be hung up?”
God, how could he just blow by that moment like it was nothing? My pulse was roaring inside my head. I couldn’t breathe right. And something about his response seemed off to me—it was the way he didn’t meet my eyes. Had he really only been teasing? Or was he wondering about the way I felt?
Damn it, Lucas. If you want to know what I’m feeling, just ask me!
Not that I was sure of how I felt. My emotions were all tangled up inside me, and I was scared to examine them more closely.
“Mia?” Lucas looked at me quizzically, and I remembered he’d asked me a question about hanging up clothes.
“Oh. Yes, thanks for reminding me.” I’d packed my little carry-on suitcase with just a few outfits—including the strapless dress I’d worn my first night in Paris and something dressier for tomorrow night’s party. I hung those in the closet next to Lucas’s pants, shirt, and coat, and experienced a strange hitch in my chest at the sight of our clothes hanging side by side. This was so intimate, visiting his family’s country home, attending a family engagement party, sharing a bedroom, a bathroom… It felt like we were a couple. A real couple.
I had to steady myself on the closet door.
It was time to face it—I felt something more than physical for Lucas.
Something that warmed my belly and wobbled my knees and made me smile just thinking about him. Did he feel anything like that for me? Or was he totally able to keep his emotions from running away with him? Maybe it was different for guys, or maybe if you were used to mind-blowing sex, it was easier to keep your feelings out of it. Was I mistaking amazement for affection? Biting my lip, I watched him take a few things out of his bag and toss them on the bed.
Oh, did I mention the bed?
It was queen-size, covered in crisp white linen, and topped by a tall headboard made out of a set of iron gates like the ones at the foot of the driveway. When we first entered the room, Lucas came up behind me and said low in my ear, “That headboard is giving me some ideas involving you and a tie I brought. I think I’ve got a better use for it.”
He wants to tie me up.
Bones turned to jelly. Vision went starry.
Now he was taking a tie out of his bag. Oh my God, is that the one? I’d never been tied up before but I nearly went sprinting from the closet over to the bed with my hands in the air. Instead I remained where I was, scared to let him to see my face as the full force of my feelings hit me.
I think I’m in love with him. For real.
“Oh, you know what I forgot? Shampoo.” Lucas turned toward me, and his brow furrowed. “Mia?”
Move. Get out of the fucking closet. Act natural.
“I have some. You’ll love it, actually. It’s going to spoil you for any other hair products.” On legs as unsteady as my voice, I went over to my bag and pulled out my makeup cases. “Use whatever you need.”
In the bathroom, I set my things on the vanity, glancing in the mirror at my flushed cheeks. Get a grip, Mia. It’s totally obvious something is up with you.
I shut the door and splashed some cold water on my face.
You’re not in love with him. You’re just happy to be here.
Really supremely fucking happy.
And all hopped up on the fresh air and orgasms.
I dried my face and hands on a towel and made a new list.
5 Appropriate (And Yet Also Wildly Inappropriate) Thoughts
You Are Allowed To Have About Lucas
1) You are allowed to imagine him whispering all manner of dirty words in your ear.
2) You are allowed to imagine him screwing you in every room in this house. Even the closets.
3) You are allowed to imagine going down on him at any given moment, including while he’s driving, at mealtimes, and in the pool. (You are not allowed to actually do this, however. Well, maybe the driving one.)
4) You are allowed to imagine what it would be like to be tied to the bed by him, helpless and at his mercy.
