“Don’t tell me you’re playing on one of those dating apps,” I say, reaching for my glass of water. My mouth is parched.
“No, just a stupid text.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I take it that didn’t go well with your mother?”
“I’ve had worse conversations,” I admit. “At least she’s on the other side of the ocean or I’d have bet she’d show during dinner.”
Dinner goes well, uneventful aside from the phone call, which for me is a home run after the long day. I’m ready for bed when we get back to the hotel, and Amelia is already asleep in my arms.
I could technically put her on the sleep sofa, but it’s not fair to make either of them sleep on that contraption. I tuck Amelia into bed and close the door.
Clare sits at the edge of my mattress and wrinkles her nose. “I left my luggage in with Amelia.”
“You can borrow something of mine to wear,” I say. My bag is open, unzipped but left on the floor near the window. The view during the day had been magnificent with the Eiffel Tower outside, but at night it’s even more enchanting.
Dare I say romantic?
There’s a balcony attached to the bedroom, and I open the door, letting the cool air whisk into the room. It’s quiet outside, and we’re high enough up there are no sounds from traffic or tourists down below.
I step out onto the balcony, staring at the city and the people walking back from the train station or visiting the Eiffel Tower.
“Do you want to grab me a T-shirt, or should I just pick one out?” Clare asks from behind.
I glance over my shoulder, and see her standing over my luggage.
“Relax, you’re not going to find any sex toys or vibrators tucked away.”
Her cheeks redden, and she glances away, bending down, scooping up the first T-shirt she finds.
“I’m never going to live that down,” Clare says.
“Maybe one day—” I pause, thinking about it. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s perfect teasing material for a lifetime.”
She groans and snags my shirt, taking it to the bathroom to undress.
I crank the air conditioning cooler, making sure the room will be plenty cold tonight when we’re sleeping.
Staring out over the balcony, I watch the stars twinkle overhead. I observe the quiet of night and how different the city is from New York.
The bathroom door creaks, and I glance over my shoulder at Clare. She looks hot in my gray T-shirt. It rides just below her bottom. I growl when I see her, stalking into the room, and my hands land on her hips.
“Woman, the things you do to me,” I say.
Clare smiles, leaning up on her tiptoes. “Touché.” She presses her lips chastely to mine, and I take the opportunity to show her how much she means to me. I want her to know the fire building inside of me, burning to come out, is all because of her.
The simple kiss deepens, and I pull her close and tight. While I desperately want to discover whether she’s wearing anything under my T-shirt, I don’t move in for the kill.
This is a slow dance, and I don’t want to spook her. We’re just getting started.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me tighter. Her fingers trail through my hair, teasing my scalp.
Her touch is heavenly and tantalizing, making my brain fuzzy the longer our lips lock together.
We fall to the bed in a heap, hands wandering, tongues exploring. Every moan and gasp sends my body into overdrive, desperately craving to taste her, feel her, and bury my cock deep inside of her.
Clare scoots back on the mattress as I tower over her, lips clashing together. Her touch is fire, setting my world ablaze. She unbuckles my pants, helping me out of them as I undo the buttons on my dress shirt.
I’m wearing far too many clothes.
The shirt is tossed across the room. I kick my pants off and hear them hit the floor with a soft thud.