by K. A. Linde
“Again,” I added.
He laughed. “Again. Yeah, exactly.” His attention turned to focus on me. His eyes traced the line of my face and down, down, down, all the way to my flexed feet. He had this intensity about him. A way of studying me as if I were the only thing in the universe.
I cleared my throat to break the tension brewing between us. “I thought that I’d fallen in love with the city before, but at night, knowing I’m going to have to leave soon, it’s magical. I feel like it’s a piece of me.”
“Just think, if you’d never approached me at that party, we never would have gotten to this moment.”
“Well, if I’d never seen you writing in your notebook on a park bench, then I wouldn’t have approached you.”
“Ah, writing saved the day again.” He fondly patted the park bench. “It all started on a park bench in Paris.”
My stomach tightened. I loved it.
Both the night and the park bench.
It felt like a fairy tale.
Chapter 7
Penn brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “Feeling better?”
I nodded and slid back into my heels. “Much. I can survive the rest of the night now.”
“Good.” He helped me to my feet. “You up for another drink? I know a place nearby.”
“I’m in,” I said even though I could still feel the buzz from the wine. Lightweight.
We walked a few more blocks and ended up in front of another cream building. A line wrapped out the front door and around the corner. A red overhang said Candy Room in white script lettering. Penn bypassed the enormous line and walked straight for what I assumed was the bouncer at the front. I stared back at the line apologetically.
Penn spoke to the bouncer for a few seconds, and then we were whisked inside to a world I’d never even known existed. I’d been to house parties in Charleston. Amy had even snuck me into a local bar back home. It was the most lenient for underage drinking, and everyone would turn a blind eye as long as no one drove home. And sure, we’d had drinks since being in Paris but mostly artsy bars, which meant low classical music, live paintings, and deep hipster conversation.
Candy Room was nothing like these other places. It was chic, classy, sensual, and inviting. If I had to dream up a club, I couldn’t have even come close to the interior of this room. Red velvet blanketed the chairs and booths that lined the perimeter in an imitation of the Paris opera house. The bar mirrored an old-timey candy bar with drinks inspired by classic candies. The bartenders were dressed up as candy stripers. The dance floor was packed with people dancing to the DJ’s jams, and three elevated platforms had poles. A bachelorette party was swinging on one, and I was sure a professional was on the other. Everything was chaos and charm and corruption. I had never been more out of my element and more excited by the prospect.
“What’s your poison?” Penn spoke into my ear.
“Surprise me,” I told him to cover the fact that I had no clue what to order.
He pulled me through the crowd to the bar and ordered us both drinks. He got some dark amber whiskey concoction. My drink was called a strawberry macaron and tasted as if I were biting into the pastry. I groaned at the flavor. If all drinks tasted like this, then maybe I’d drink more. I downed the drink nearly as fast as Amy had earlier that evening.
“This is so good,” I said, stumbling forward into him.
“Whoa there,” he said. He gripped my hip and held me up. “That thing has, like, six shots in it. Be careful.”
I stared at the tiny glass and blinked. There was only a quarter left. “Whoops. It doesn’t even taste like alcohol.”
“That’s how it gets you.” His attention was trained on me. “You don’t drink often, do you?”
“Almost never,” I admitted.
He plucked the rest of the drink from my hand. “You don’t need to be drunk to have a good time.”
“I think it’s a little late for that.” I leaned into him and boldly ran my hand down the front of his suit. “We should dance.”
“And here I thought, you hated dancing.”
“Ballroom dancing,” I clarified. I sucked at that, but I had some experience shaking my ass on the dance floor. It was impossible to have Amy as a friend and not know how to shake it.
“By all means, love, lead the way.”
I reached for his hand and let the alcohol direct my steps through the pulsing crowd. I meandered until I found what I was looking for—an enormous open-air patio. I’d heard someone mention it on our way in. What better way to dance the night away than under the Parisian night sky?
The music was a sensual electric pop beat that thrummed through my veins. People pressed in on all sides, letting the beats fuel their hips. I swirled my own hips in an alluring fashion and then turned to face Penn’s awaiting body. I grabbed his suit lapels and tugged him closer to me. His hands slid into place on my sides, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. The way we’d been when ballroom dancing was sweet. Tempting but still sweet. This was way beyond that.
My gaze snagged on his, and our eyes stayed locked as our hips did all the speaking. His fingers traced down my body, over my hips, and then dug into my skin to pull me closer and closer until there was nothing between us. Just a breath between our lips. A span that felt like an eternity.
We’d shared that one kiss in front of the Eiffel Tower, and now, it felt as if I’d been waiting all night to get back to that moment. To taste him and the sin that he was offering. I was tipsy enough to do it, to lean forward and take what I wanted. And, still, I hesitated.
He must have seen the hesitation on my face. The desire that he elicited so plainly there. Like a window to every thought. He smirked in the most delectable way and then moved forward just an inch closer. His lips barely touched mine. His tongue slipped out to graze my bottom lip. I couldn’t control the moan that escaped me. Even over the drone of the music, he heard it.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
I nodded. That was exactly how I felt. My whole body was alive at his touch. That one almost kiss had set my nerves alive for what felt like the first time in my life. Was this why Amy was reckless with her heart? It had never felt this good to have someone touch me. I had never wanted it as much as I did now. It felt dangerous…and yet I liked the danger. I liked the unknown. I wanted more of it and more of him, and I didn’t want to think about anything else. I just wanted to enjoy myself and this one perfect night.
My thoughts focused on how to get us alone. How to escape the crowd to get those lips on me. How to enjoy my night to the fullest.
“Maybe we could…” I nodded my head at a back hallway.
His eyes swept to where I’d suggested and then widened. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, though I didn’t understand his surprise. It looked like a secluded area where we could make out. And, right now, that was exactly what I wanted.
He shrugged one shoulder. “All right.”
I’d seen other people wandering down this hallway, and I’d figured they also wanted some privacy, but I was not prepared for what I found.
“Oh!” I squeaked.
Penn laughed. “What did you think you’d find?”
“I don’t know.”
But not sex rooms or a mirrored room to share or, god, a fetish room. I’d seen my fair share of porn. I wasn’t completely innocent just because I’d never had sex. But that didn’t mean I’d seen any of it in person.
My face was as red as a rose, and I couldn’t stop the embarrassment that coursed through me. Penn thought that this was what I wanted. He’d gone along with it. And yet…I couldn’t deny the appeal of this. How turned on I was getting from being in this room.
I swallowed and kept watching for a second longer. Then, my gaze swept back up to Penn’s. He was staring down at me with a hungry, amused look on his face.
He stepped forward, pressing my back into the darkened alcove that nearly hid us from the rest of the people having fun. His stubbl
e scratched across my cheek as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “You like this?”
“I…” I hesitated. “Maybe.”
“And I thought, you weren’t ready for the real treats from the Candy Room.”
I tilted my head back and stared up at him. I didn’t want him to think that I wasn’t interested in him. I was. I was interested in all of this in a way that I’d never vocalized. That I’d never thought anyone else would be into. It had always felt shameful until Penn’s intrigued and satisfied look.
“What if I am?”
“I wish that you had approached me earlier this summer,” he said frankly.
A thrill ran through me. “Me too.”
His hand tangled in my blonde hair. My breathing was uneven as he leaned closer to me. His movements unhurried but confident. Then, his lips were on mine, and everything short-circuited.
What had been a frenzied kiss earlier that evening turned into something passionate. As if the hours that we had spent together changed everything. Now, it wasn’t just a serendipitous, spontaneous kiss with a stranger. It was heated and laced with tension that had been building all night.
His finger skimmed the hem of my dress, and a shiver went down my spine. He was asking permission. I knew that, if I wanted to stop, then this was the moment. This was when I could say no and walk away from all of this. But not a single part of my body wanted that.
Then his hand slipped under my dress. I gasped against his lips, and he moved to kiss his way down my neck. I tilted my head back, and he slid up my sensitive inner thigh to the edge of my panties.
“Oh god,” I groaned as he ran a finger down the lace hem.
Lower, lower, lower. Then, over that most sensitive area. Even through the lace of my thong, my entire body jerked at his touch. I was so turned on between him and this room and the club and Paris. Just everything was super-heating my body.
“Can I?” he asked, looping a finger under the fabric and waiting for my answer.
I whimpered in response. He took that to mean yes and pushed my panties aside. Then, he stroked one finger down the center of me. I shivered all over. My head smacked into the wall, and I didn’t even care.
A finger slipped up between my folds and inside me.
“Oh!” I gasped.
“You’re so wet,” he said with pleasure into my ear before adding another finger.
“Ye-yes.”
My eyes slid shut as he started moving inside me. In and out and then in again. Pumping into me with the ease of a practiced hand. His thumb moved to stroke my clit, which made me shake all over.
I’d gotten off like this myself but never from a guy. Apparently, I’d never met anyone who knew what they were doing because fuck. Just…fuck.
Everything was building, building, building. My skin was on fire. A million nerve endings on fire all at once. A flush suffused my whole body. And, still, he didn’t stop as he worked my body into a frenzy. As he held me against that wall where anyone could just look in and see what he was doing to me. And, somehow, that just turned me on more.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” I moaned as I felt everything coming to a head.
“Come for me,” he growled into my ear.
And that was the moment I saw stars. We were inside, and I was seeing the Paris night sky. My walls pulsed hungrily around his fingers. Euphoria rocketed through me. Everything went fuzzy and warm.
“We should leave,” Penn said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Come home with me.”
“I…”
I had no words. I was still coming down from the throes of the best orgasm of my life, and I never even had sex before. What would it be like to give in and just…be with him?
“Natalie,” he said, his voice earnest, “will you come to my place?”
In that moment, we were inevitable.
“Yes.”
Chapter 8
“Wine?” Penn asked when we got to his place.
I gulped and then nodded. “Sounds great.”
Everything had been well and good when we were back at the club, but now, I was wondering what the hell I was doing here. He lived in the building three down from mine. We’d been this close all summer. And now, I was here. In his flat. Anxiety warred with fear.
Did I tell him?
It wasn’t like I paraded around the fact that I was a virgin. It wasn’t a prime conversation starter. Amy knew, obviously. But I didn’t share the information, and I didn’t know how to say it now. It wasn’t like I could just come out and be like, Hey, P.S., I’m a virgin!
He didn’t even know that I was only eighteen and here with Amy the summer after graduation. These were things I normally thought that I’d share with the guy who was my first. And yet, here I was, with an almost stranger who seemed to know my very soul yet didn’t know my age or even my last name.
Man, I was psyching myself out.
“Hey,” Penn said, offering me a wine glass. “Everything all right?”
I took the glass from him and had a long sip. “A little…nervous, to be honest.”
“Don’t be nervous,” he said with a soft laugh. He offered me his hand and helped me to my feet.
“I just…” I stumbled over the words I wanted to say. To tell him the truth. And yet, they didn’t come.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” He took my hand. “Just come with me.”
He guided me out of the living room, down a hallway, past the elevator service we’d used to reach the top floor, and to a closed door at the end of the hall. He opened the door and turned on a lamp, revealing what was clearly his bedroom. It was decorated in neutral white and blues with a king-size bed taking up much of the space aside from a desk that was littered with papers. His notebook was on top of a pile of books on the nightstand. Otherwise, it was spotless. Unlike the bedroom I had been living in all summer long.
“I love your place.” I took another big swallow of wine and then stepped inside.
“Thanks.” He set his keys down on the dresser and then slid his suit jacket off. He draped it across the back of the chair. So casual. He wasn’t nervous at all. This was his place, and he was utterly in his element.
He clicked a button for a speaker and pulled his phone out of his pocket to play some music. The soothing voice of Ray LaMontagne eased my nerves.
“‘Such a Simple Thing’?” I guessed. “I love this song.”
“It’s my favorite of his.”
He leaned back against the chair at his desk and observed me wandering his space. I straightened my shoulders and stepped around his bed.
“I love ‘Shelter.’”
“Also a classic.”
“You have good taste in music,” I told him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”
He chuckled. “Depends on who you ask.”
I laughed softly and kicked my heels off at the foot of the bed. I was glad to finally be out of those things. “Liar.”
“I am proficient at a number of things, but I assure you, there are plenty of people who think that I’m not great at anything.”
“Like who?” I glanced over at him with an arched eyebrow.
“My father.”
“Oh,” I whispered. “Well, I’m going to go on record and say that his opinion doesn’t matter.”
Penn scoffed. “He doesn’t agree with that either.”
“Well tonight, you’re living a different life, remember? You don’t have to live under his expectations. You can just be you.”
He tilted his head slightly and observed me. It was as if he couldn’t quite place me. As if what I’d said really struck a chord with him.
I turned away from that look and continued toward the nightstand. I plucked his notebook from where it rested and held it aloft. “Ah, the famous notebook.”
I flipped open the leather binding and opened it to the first page, but before I even read a word, Penn’s hand came down and shut the cover.
“You d
on’t want to look in there.”
“Oh,” I said in surprise. “Is it your diary?”
“Worse.” He took the worn leather notebook out of my hands. “Philosophical ramblings. I’d bore you to tears.”
“I doubt that.”
“You don’t want to hear my ethical diatribes. Trust me,” he said, placing the notebook back where I’d gotten it.
A part of me yearned to pick it back up and read all of his ethical diatribes. There must be something juicy and interesting in there if he didn’t want me to read it. At the same time, I knew that was ridiculous because it wasn’t as if I let other people read my work. I was way too embarrassed to put myself out there. All I’d ever wanted to be was a writer, but actually letting people read my work was another matter. The writing was so much easier than the potential criticism. Or as I always considered it…the inevitable criticism. One day, I’d get my words out there, be an author and not just a writer, but I understood why Penn wasn’t ready either.
The song shifted, and I nearly swooned when Calum Scott’s “You Are the Reason” came on. Damn, he really had good taste in music.
I opened my mouth to say that again when Penn turned to face me. His eyes drifted to my lips and then back up. The space hovered between us. He reached out and took my wine glass from me, removing what had only ever been a perceived barrier between us. He set it down on the nightstand and then stepped in closer to me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he told me.
A hand cupped my cheek. Those cerulean eyes staring deep into my own. The amazing night we’d had spread out before me.
What more could I ask for? This was everything I’d wanted my time in Paris to be. If anything, I wished we’d happened sooner. I wished that I didn’t have just one last night but instead had the whole summer with him.
He dragged my chin upward and kissed me full on the mouth. A possessive kiss that said I was his now. That this was how things were going to be. And I didn’t want to back out. I wanted this, tonight, here with him. Nerves and expectations be damned. His mouth on mine, his fingers in my hair, his body pressed into me. I couldn’t turn down what he was offering. I wouldn’t even if I wanted to. And I didn’t. I wanted him.