Even after Sophia walks away, waves of hot blood flush throughout my body, leaving ripples of tingle behind. I’m still trying to gather myself when she calls me from another room. “Trevor, you have to come see this! This must be the most famous statue in this museum.”
I follow her voice and soon we’re standing in front of the famous Rodin’s Kiss (42-43).
“I adore this sculpture!” she exclaims.
“Wow! I’m even more impressed than with Canova’s kiss.” I’m not kidding. This white marble piece in front of me has nothing of the innocence and tenderness in Canova’s Eros and Psyche. This kissing couple means business. It’s the difference between PG-13 and Rated R (44).
“Both statues portray kisses, but they’re different,” Sophia explains. “Canova’s kiss is all about the longing—there’s a long distance still separating the lovers’ lips. This one is about consummation.”
Heat begins to crawl up my neck and my skin fills with goose bumps. Consummation. Yup, I can see that. There’s no distance between the mouths of the nude figures entangled together. Her arm wraps around his neck, pulling him eagerly to deepen the kiss; she seems about to shift positions to climb on top of him. His biceps and calf muscles are tense—you can guess he’s getting aroused. His hand grabs her hip unapologetically, as if getting ready to move to reach third base.
My entire body throbs with want, but the peak of the feeling nestles between my legs, threatening to turn me into a spectacle. Damn it, I need a cold shower. Who am I kidding? I need a woman.
My eyes wander toward Sophia. I need this delectable woman, who tempts me without even knowing it. How exquisite her curvy body must feel to the touch. Every inch of me is painfully aware of how close and how far away she is at once.
A crowd of tourists admiring the statue surrounds us and pushes us around. I seize the excuse of someone nudging me to press my body against Sophia’s back. God, she’s so deliciously soft! And smells just as nice. As her flaxen hair tickles my face, my breath caresses her ear.
Pretending I’m trying to regain my balance, I rest my hands on her shoulders and electricity zaps my fingers. Sophia seems to shiver lightly, but doesn’t pull away and remains perfectly still. Is she also battling this magnetic force pulling us together? Is she feeling the same hunger I endure?
“Oh, look!” Sophia squeals. “The rain has stopped! Let’s go see the Thinker statue outside!”
And just like that, she’s gone, skipping down the hall and out the arched doorway into the misty gardens.
I can’t move for a moment, at once bereft and incredulous that she seems unaffected by our shared experience.
Doesn’t she have a clue?
Chapter 12
Trevor
Sizzling in frustration, I let Sophia explore the gardens alone and head to the café. After getting a double espresso, I carry my mug to one of the outdoor tables and settle on a chair under a large umbrella, ruminating. I wonder if I’ll ever convince Sophia to break the vow, or if I should invade Eric and Karla’s bedroom to crash tonight for a little more privacy than the couch as I take care of business myself.
“Trevor, is that you?”
The somewhat familiar voice with a Cockney accent gets my attention. My eyes rise from my coffee and meet a slender blonde. I have to dig in my brain for a moment before the name comes to me. “Kate?”
She beams, delighted to see I remember her. I stand up and she greets me with a hug.
Kate and I met in a bar six months ago. We hooked up a couple of times and never saw each other again. Judging by her apron, she works here. And judging by the way her fingers linger on my back, she’s pleased to see me.
“You look even better than I remembered you.” Kate’s eyes blaze with appreciation as she studies me from head to toe. Yup, she wants me. Perfect timing! If I didn’t find a woman soon, I was considering screwing one of the marble statues. In my current state, I probably could.
We make small talk, tiptoeing around the real topic we want to touch. She’s exactly what I need. I should hurry and make it a date, before Sophia returns.
Because the fact that I’m hesitating is ridiculous, right? Why do I feel like I’m betraying Sophia, when we’re clearly nothing but tour companions?
Do you feel like grabbing a drink tonight? The words form in my brain but never quite reach my lips. At that moment, of course, Sophia arrives.
“Hello! I see you ran into a friend, Trevor.”
Sophia’s smile is the sweetest in the world, but she doesn’t fool me. There’s a hint of territorial defense in the gaze she shoots in Kate’s direction.
“Sophia, this is Kate, an old friend. Kate, this is Sophia, a new friend.” It’s all I can come up with.
The two women measure each other as they shake hands. And I’m obviously stuck. Even if there’s nothing between Sophia and I, I can’t continue to hit on Kate without advertising that my celibacy vow story is a lie.
Judging by Kate’s look of contempt, she has decided Sophia is not a threat. With no subtlety, she places her hand on my chest and leans toward me. Her eyes are loaded with invitation. “So, how about getting together tonight?”
Shit. What do I do now? I run some ideas through my mind. Should I say, “I’ll text you later,” and make up a story for Sophia after she’s gone? Do I even have Kate’s number still?
Before I generate an answer, Sophia wraps her arm around my waist and addresses Kate. “Oh, I’m sorry. We already have plans tonight.”
What the heck is she doing? I’m bewildered. But I’m also steaming inside. First, Kate hugging me and now this. Don’t these women realize the torture female touch can be for a horny man?
Kate raises her eyebrows. “Are you meeting somewhere? Maybe I can join you there.” Her skeptical expression advertises she still can’t believe Sophia and I are together—could she have possibly smelled my lack of sexual satisfaction?
“Well, we don’t really have to meet anywhere.” Sophia enunciates each word carefully. “I’m staying with him.”
Shit. It’s official. Sophia’s ruining my chances of getting lucky tonight.
“I’m tired, baby. Should we head back to the flat?” Sophia asks. Then, without warning, she pecks me on the lips.
For a fraction of a second, excitement raises my blood pressure so high that I almost have a stroke. But the kiss is so, so painfully brief. Before I can respond, even before I finish realizing what happened, Sophia has pulled away.
I haven’t even grasped my own wrenching disappointment when a similar feeling sparks in Kate’s eyes. She mumbles a goodbye and stumbles away, turning from time to time to look at Sophia over her shoulder.
And as Kate walks away, it hits me harder than ever how desperate I am for sex. Right now I want to die.
When Kate is out of earshot, I turn to Sophia asking the question with my eyes.
“You’re welcome,” she answers without sarcasm. “It took me two seconds to understand what was going on. She and you hooked up in the past, she wants to meet up again, and I can only imagine how awkward it would be to explain to her about the vow.”
Damn it. I deflate like a tire with a leaky valve. “Yup. You got it right.” I eye Kate longingly as she talks to some other employee a few tables down.
As Sophia and I leave the cafeteria, I turn to her, raising one eyebrow. “Isn’t kissing a guy on the lips a violation of the self-vow?”
“Of course not; only sex is off-limits. Kissing is not recommended, as it can make it difficult to stay celibate, but it’s not forbidden.”
Oh… she should not have told me that. My mind is now plagued by images of us kissing. And, yes, hopes that such kisses end up turning into something else.
Sophia decides she wants to look at The Kiss one last time before leaving, and the damn statue hurts me even more than the first time. It’s a painful reminder of how long it has been since I’ve held a woman like that.
I steal glances at Sophia from the corner of my
eye. Double damn it. Why did she have to catch me off guard? A make-out session may not be much compared to a night of passion, but it sounds like such a glorious thing in the midst of my hunger for a woman’s touch. Sophia offered a starving man a bite of buttery, succulent croissant, yet cruelly took it away before he could taste it.
The moment we step out of the building, heading to the exit, I spot Kate talking to someone in the distance and an idea sparks in me.
I stop walking and face Sophia. “Don’t look now. Kate is watching us. I think she didn’t buy the story that we’re a couple and is going to call me later.”
“What should we do?” she asks, frowning with worry.
“Help me out here. I’m going to kiss you, so she gets the message to stay away.” And without giving her a chance to process the words, I cup her face and join my lips to hers.
I startle at the surge of pleasure flowing through me. I so needed this. I suck on her lips, taste them, and sip on them, alternating with small bites. I’ve fantasized so much about her mouth that the anticipation has become an extra seasoning. This is even more glorious than I imagined and so beats a first kiss with a stranger picked up from a bar.
We should be more than even now and I should stop. A little breathless, I pull back, but immediately decide I haven’t had enough. “Damn it, Kate’s still watching,” I whisper. I search Sophia’s eyes, giving her one last chance to push me away. When she doesn’t, I recapture her mouth.
The tip of my tongue probes between her lips, tentative, and this time, she does react; she parts them for me, granting me access.
The rush of blood that hits me under the belt makes me dizzy. Now I understand why kissing is discouraged when you’re trying to go without sex. But now I can’t stop.
As I frantically deepen the kiss, one of my hands slides from her face to cradle her head, while the other skims down her neck, caressing it before I slip it inside her open jacket to set it on the small of her back. She trembles slightly and that turns me on even more. I press on her back, bringing our torsos and hips together and I can swear I hear a whimper, drowned by our kiss, which adds to my arousal. God bless Paris, one of the few places in the world where people don’t bat an eye seeing a couple tearing off each other’s lips in a public place.
At first I thought she was just putting on a show, but now I know she’s getting as carried away as I am. Sophia’s hands are wrapped around my back, pulling me toward her, desperate, as she explores my mouth.
Chapter 13
Sophia
This wasn’t supposed to happen. When I intervened to rescue Trevor from Kate, I honestly wanted nothing but to protect a friend. Seriously, I just did it to help him find a dignified way out of an uncomfortable situation.
Okay, fine. Maybe also because seeing her flirt with him infuriated me a little. After such a magical morning of laughter and bonding and beautiful art, I felt a connection to Trevor that her presence threatened to desecrate.
No, I don’t regret my interference. But never in a million years could I have predicted that my rescue efforts would end like this.
And even less could I have predicted I’d love it this much!
God, what am I doing? I’m kissing Trevor. And I like it so much I can’t stop.
I taste coffee. I smell the subtle, pleasant scent of his antiperspirant mixed with the masculine essence of his sweat. The fire of his mouth and hands heat up my body despite the cold, rainy day.
Did I ever believe I knew what a good kisser was? Trevor’s an amazing one. His smoldering lips imprison me. His tongue teases mine, gentle at times, demanding at others, without ever lingering, making me ache for more. And I don’t buy for one second that he’s only doing this for Kate’s benefit. Because from the way his hands clutch me and his breathing shudders from time to time, I can tell he’s getting aroused.
But who am I to judge? I’m aroused, too. Way too much for safety. My toes curl, my fingers cling to his jacket, my nails dig into his back. I’m crushing myself against him with desperation in the most unladylike way imaginable.
I should pull back now, gently push him away, take a step back. But passion drowns out all rational thought. Right now, I’m not me. I’ve melted into a puddle of lust and instincts. I’m every woman sculpted in this museum: the archetype of blind desire. I want to climb him, enfold him, swallow him. I want to fuse with his mouth. Darn it, I want to fuse with his body.
And that’s not good. I’ve promised myself I’ll be alone for the rest of this year. If I break this promise, I’ll never forgive myself.
Using every bit of strength I have left, I softly push him away, separating our mouths, and whisper, “I think she gets it now.” I barely recognize my own weak, raspy voice. My heart flutters in my heaving chest.
Trevor pants, his lips still parted. A flash of disappointment shines in his darkened eyes, followed by a spark of amusement. He knows the effect he just had on me. “Okay then.” He lets go of me and I have to take a step back to regain my balance. Despite his breathlessness, he seems in control. His devilish smile makes my legs weaken. “Thanks for being a good sport.” He threads his arm through mine and leads me away.
Trevor’s nonchalance feels surreal. If it weren’t for our hard breathing and the tingling in my swollen lips, I’d wonder if I dreamed it all. The place of contact of our looped arms burns, even through the layers of our clothing.
As we pass the gold-dome-crowned Hôtel des Invalides (45), strolling to the nearby Metro station, my mind still swirls and my legs shake. Gosh, why did he have to do that? A load of desires and needs I’ve managed to deny and repress for months are making a comeback with a vengeance. My quivering body burns with fire, and the furnace is located below my navel.
Either he also needs time to pull himself together, or he’s giving me space until I can, because there’s no attempt at communication the first leg of our trip. As we exit the first train to transfer to the next one, he starts making small talk like nothing has happened; I’m thankful for it.
And now we have to return to an empty apartment where we can’t run away from each other—a place where we’ll be all alone the rest of the day, and all night.
It’s going to be difficult to sleep tonight.
* * *
The next day things don’t get any easier. Gosh, it’s not just a stereotype, it’s true. This is the city of people in love. This is the city of couples kissing inappropriately in public.
Everywhere we look, couples are making out. On a bench in the Tuileries Garden. In the middle of Boulevard des Capucines. On the steps of the Opera House. And it’s not only the fact that they’re kissing; it’s how unapologetically they do it. They have zero self-consciousness about getting handsy in front of the whole world. It crosses the line from “making out” to “foreplay.”
Like I needed another reason to feel unsettled. If catching those scenes out of the corner of my eye flustered me a little a few days ago, now it’s worse. They send me into flashbacks of Trevor’s kiss.
I’ve done my best to keep the camaraderie going; but the truth is that ever since our kiss, I’m unable to see Trevor in the same light as before. He’s mutated from a “nice, good-looking guy” and “a fellow seeker of enlightenment following a cleansing year” to a sexy-as-hell man who makes me really nervous.
What is it with that elusive full-on smile, crinkling his eyes, that also puts a wrinkle in my resistance? Why is it that the same large body I compared days ago to a bodyguard, now plants images of skin and blankets in my mind? Why is it that the grasp of his hand on mine, when helping me climb stairs, no longer makes me feel safe, but instead painfully aware of his masculine presence?
Every daily task is now charged. Taking off my clothes to get in the claw tub, knowing he’s right outside the bathroom door. Hearing the shower run and knowing he’s standing under the water, naked. Lying in bed at night staring at the ceiling, keenly aware he sleeps steps away from me.
I’m glad we’re lea
ving for Annecy soon. We’ll finally leave this intimate apartment and move to the impersonal situation of two separate hotel rooms, the farther apart the better.
God knows I need some distance from him.
Chapter 14
Trevor
I spoke too soon when I said Sophia was safe in the flat with me. Our kiss unraveled me beyond what I could’ve predicted. All I wanted was a little reminder of how it felt to have a woman in my arms. And now I want more. So much more.
I’ve taken over Eric and Karla’s room instead of sleeping on the couch. At least that way there are two doors protecting Sophia from me. Unless I manage to make a hole in the wall our bedrooms share—which crosses my mind.
On second thought, maybe this wasn’t a good idea either.
I toss and turn in bed unable to sleep, imagining her stretched out in bed, only steps away from me, across that wall. Does she sleep naked? In her underwear? In some lacy number? Is she also thinking about our kiss? Judging by her passion when she kissed me back, she wants me too. Would she really turn me down if I knock on her door right now and start kissing her again?
It takes me forever to fall asleep, and even then, restlessness remains in me. It’s beyond the urge for physical relief. I need a woman; that woman on the other side of the wall. I long to feel her, smell her, bury myself in her. My body craves her feminine essence.
Over breakfast, Sophia seems determined to ignore what happened between us, and I follow suit. We plan the route for the day while enjoying our new tradition of croissants, cheese, fresh fruit, and coffee.
Tomorrow morning, we’re heading to Annecy from the Gare du Lyon train station. I confess I’m excited about a change of scenery. I’ve explored the most famous spots of France over the past few months, from Cannes to Monte Carlo to Marseille, but I haven’t yet made it to the Alps.
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