Page 72 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
Our mouths hovered inches apart, teeth bared, breath hot. My passion for him was so immense I felt like my skin couldn’t contain it, like I might burst wide open with it. Every time we were together was incredible, but this was something different. It was frantic and panicked, driven by anguish as much as arousal.
It feels like the last time. It feels like fucking goodbye.
What if it is? What if it is?
I clung to him and he pumped into me hard and fast, then he pulled me tight to his body, grinding me against him. “Oh, God, Lucas,” I panted frantically. “I’m gonna come...”
“I want you to,” he growled. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel it. Then I’m going to come inside you so hard.”
My head thumped back hard against the stone as my climax hit, and with every contraction of my body around his, words pulsed through my head… fuck, yes, oh, my, God, right, there, you’re, fucking, amazing, I, can’t, get, enough…
He groaned and pinned me harder against the wall, dropping his face to my neck and filling me completely. I felt him—I felt the pulsing of his orgasm as if it were my own, and I gripped him with my legs and held his head in my hands, my heart drumming in my chest. I opened my eyes and looked at the sky.
I saw stars that haven’t even been born yet.
God, I love you.
And then it happened. It was in my head one second and on my lips the next. It was kind of like a movie, where you know the heroine is going to do something stupid and you reach for the screen in slow motion, yelling nooooooooo!
“God, I love you.”
As soon as the words were out, I froze.
Lucas picked up his head. “What?”
“Oh my God.” Embarrassment flooded me, my cheeks hot with shame. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean that.”
“Wait.” He closed his eyes a second. “You didn’t mean it? Or you didn’t mean to say it?”
“I—I—” I whimpered in hideous, humiliating agony. “I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.” I glanced down to where our bodies were joined. “I can’t think at all. Maybe we can have this conversation, um…”
Lowering my feet to the ground, he pulled out of me
, and immediately I felt the warm stream run down my inner thigh.
“Oh, crap.” I held my dress away from my legs.
“Sorry about that. Uh, want me to get you a towel or something?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s OK. But do you think I can make it into the house without being seen? I need to change my dress and I should probably mop up my face too.” I didn’t even want to think about what my eye makeup looked like.
“Yes, I think we can get you into the house unseen. But Mia…” He ran a hand though his hair. “We need to talk.”
I looked over his shoulder beyond the vineyard, as if maybe hurtling the wall and taking off in the direction of Paris on foot was an option. “Yes.”
Oh, God. How the hell was I going to explain myself?
#
Up in our room, I hung the soiled dress in the closet and changed into the one I’d worn last night. I also took off my heels in favor of going barefoot. In the bathroom, I scrubbed my face and splashed it with cold water, but my eyes still looked a little puffy. I covered up with makeup as well as I could, neatened my hair, and reapplied my lip pencil and balm.
OK, think. How am I going to spin this?
I had two options, best I could tell. I could be honest and say that I had strong feelings for him that were confusing and overwhelming, or I could pretend it was just an emotional reaction to the sex and try to laugh it off. Maybe I could try to read him first. He hadn’t seemed all that freaked out. Maybe my dignity could be salvaged, although Jesus, it had taken a beating lately.
Lucas met me at the bottom of the stairs and handed me a glass of red wine. “Here. It’s one of ours.”
“Thank you.” If he was going to break my heart, at least he would do it over good wine.
