Page 71 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
We sat with the family at a long head table, and the meal looked lovely, but I wasn’t hungry. I picked at my food, mostly just moving it around on my plate.
During dessert, Lucas asked me if I was OK.
“Of course.” Picking up my wine glass, I took a hefty sip.
“You seem quiet,” he said, running a finger over the halter strap of my bright pink dress.
I set the glass down. “Just thoughtful.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Don’t you dare, Mia Devine. Don’t you fucking dare.
“Uh…” I took another swallow of wine, which gave me time to think up an allowable answer. “What’s left on the Paris list, actually. I’ll only have three days once I get back from here, really only two and a half, depending on what time the train gets in.” My voice sounded terribly unnatural to me.
“That’s right. You’re leaving Tuesday, huh.”
“Yep. Back to reality.” Bright, toothpaste-commercial smile.
His lips tipped up, but it wasn’t his usual grin. “I guess so. I have to work at The Beaver Saturday night, so—”
“That’s OK,” I chirped. Come on, Mia. More enthusiasm, you can do it. “Now that you’ve showed me how to get around, I’ll be fine on my own. No worries.”
“I was only going to say that we can take an early train tomorrow.” Eyes troubled, Lucas studied me carefully. “But…do you mean that you don’t want to hang out anymore when we get back to Paris?”
More wine. That’s it. Drain the last drop. “Uh, no, not exactly.” I fussed with the stem of my empty glass. “I just meant that you don’t have to play tour guide anymore. I can do things by myself.”
Silence. “Is that what you want?”
Of course not, you dummy.
I opened my mouth to continue with the night’s slightly-less-than-Oscar-worthy performance but Lucas ruined the whole thing by answering his own question.
“Because I’ll be really sad if it is.”
Oh no. Oh, Jesus. Tears were coming.
Desperate, I looked around the table. Where the hell was the wine bottle? The rest of the family was engaged in chatter and didn’t notice the quiet drama unfolding between us, but I knew if I didn’t get up and leave, the dam inside me was going to burst.
“Mia?” Lucas reached for my hand.
“I’m sorry.” Pushing my chair back, I jumped up and flew past the other tables, across the pool deck and around to the other side of the house. Into the dark I ran, working my legs as fast as I could in my heels, grateful that I ran track in high school and had kept up the habit for exercise. Through the garden—ever tried to run on gravel? It sucks, and that’s in running shoes—beyond the fountain, all the way to the back of the olive grove. I ran so hard I couldn’t even cry, lungs threatening to split wide open, a painful stitch in my side. When I reached the edge of the vineyard, I collapsed against the side of an old stone outbuilding.
Laying my cheek on the cold, rough surface, I pounded the heel of my hand into the stone and sobbed. I cried just as hard as I had when Tucker had called off our wedding, and the crazy thing was, I felt even sadder. Unlike the tears I cried then, these were fueled only by a broken heart, without anger or regret or shame to dilute them.
“Mia!” Lucas’s voice echoed through the grove. Could he see me? I stifled my sobs, but a moment later, I heard his fast footfalls and then felt his hand on my back. “Mia, oh my God. Are you OK? Come here, please.”
Maybe it was a mistake, but I let him turn me into his arms and continued to cry silently on his shoulder for a minute. He held me tight, rubbing my back, saying nothing. When my shuddering slowed, he swayed me gently and kissed my head. I lifted my tear-stained face from his chest, and he kissed each of my wet cheeks. Then my forehead.
Stop doing these sweet things. I’m already in love with you and you’re making it worse.
But I couldn’t say anything then because his mouth was on mine, and his arms were around me, and our bodies were pressed together in a way that turned my hopelessness into desperation, making me greedy for what he could give. I wanted it. I wanted it now, and I didn’t care about the price.
Jumping up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him with ferocious desire, fisting my hands in his hair, biting his lip, gasping for air. His hands groped my ass and moved me against him, and I could feel his cock pushing against me through his clothing. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.
He backed me into the stone wall, and I knew I’d go out of my mind if I couldn’t have him inside my body. “Lucas. I want you to fuck me. Now,” I demanded against his lips.
He didn’t fight it. Letting my legs drop to the ground, he undid his pants while I kicked off my underwear. In two seconds he’d lifted my dress and had me right back where I was against the wall, only this time his bare cock was driving into me.
