‘All day?’
‘Probably.’ I scan his face. ‘I’m sorry you’ll be here cooling your heels...’
‘I’ll work.’ He lifts his shoulders. ‘We have an office in the QCA.’
‘Ah, of course.’
‘But I know a great place for dinner tomorrow night.’
Something like magic steals through my soul. ‘Sounds nice.’
Nice is an understatement, though. Suddenly I feel like there are no words to explain how I feel.
* * *
I wake up with a raging hard-on and a frown on my face, because there’s just no way I can make the most of it in this frou-frou excuse for a bedroom.
‘Bonjour...’
She grins at me, her eyes sparkling, her long red hair in total disarray. I imagine her on top of me, that beautiful hair draped around her shoulders. Great. That’s not helpful.
‘Bonjour yourself.’
‘How’d you sleep?’
I reach for her, pulling her body close to mine. To hell with it. ‘Like a log.’
‘Mmm...’ Her murmur is pure sensual invitation.
‘I can’t do this,’ I grunt, shaking my head ruefully. ‘I feel like your grand-mère is watching us.’
She laughs. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s not.’
I’m not convinced.
‘And if she were, she’d thoroughly approve.’
At that, I laugh.
‘I’m not kidding. After my grandpa died, she had quite the slew of romantic adventures.’
‘Well, if you’re sure...’
She makes a little noise of surprise as I pull her on top of me, her eyes flaring wide at the feeling of my cock between her legs. ‘Yep. I’m positive...’
* * *
My day is long with a capital L, and all I want is to wrap it up and get back to Theo. The way we made love this morning makes my throat dry just thinking about it. But there’s so much to do, so much to cover, that it’s almost nine before I finally finish my last meeting, and even then it’s with the promise I’ll be back the next day to smooth out some of the last details.
Theo is at my place when I arrive and I pause just inside the door, staring at him for a moment, my heart in my throat at the sight of him here, in the place I feel most comfortable, most like myself.
He’s wearing a suit, his hair up high on his head, his features so chiselled and strong, his face bearing a mask of intense concentration as he reads a broadsheet newspaper. He’s sitting in the purple velvet chair and it’s such a beautiful contradiction—him so masculine and the chair so feminine—that something inside me flutters. I want to smile, but I can’t. He’s just so...
‘Hey—’ he lifts his gaze ‘—whatcha looking at?’
I force a smile to my face and stamp out the direction of my thoughts. ‘Nothing. Sorry I’m so late.’
‘It’s not late. We’re in Paris, baby. Things don’t get started here till midnight.’