French Kissed

by Chanel Cleeton

  Max

  I stood in the hall, waiting to pick my girlfriend up from class. My girlfriend.

  It had been almost two months since we’d started dating, and the feeling of being the luckiest guy in the world still hadn’t worn off. I wasn’t sure it ever would.

  The more time we spent together, the more I liked her. She wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. She had a temper the likes of which I’d never seen before. And she felt everything. For the most part, I was a pretty calm guy. Things pissed me off, other things made me happy, but my moods were usually pretty even. Fleur was something else entirely.

  When she was happy, she was the most dazzling thing I’d ever seen; when she was pissed off about something, it was like a thunderstorm had rolled in and threatened to obliterate everything around it. She could be sweet and playful; she could be high maintenance and bitchy. I never knew exactly what I was going to get with her, and I’d found I didn’t care. I took whatever came my way and had even learned how to handle her moods—if anyone could be said to handle Fleur. If she blew, it was a short explosion; she wasn’t the type to hold grudges. And even when we did fight—usually about the project—she got over it quickly. And we got to make up. A lot. Which was awesome.

  With George, she’d been a shell of herself. She’d rarely lost her temper. But she was completely different with me, and I loved that she was comfortable enough to be herself.

  “Hey, Max.”

  A girl from my Multinational Corporations class walked over to me, a smile on her face, books in hand. We’d talked a few times; she was American, too, and her name started with a J—Jules, or Jamie, or Julia. Something like that.

  “Hey.”

  “Are you ready for the final?” she asked.

  Most of our classes came down to one grade for the whole semester—a final exam, or a massive paper, or project. It made it hard to know where you were in the class until everything was on the line, but it also meant that you didn’t have to stress until the very end.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been going through an old outline I got from a friend who took the course from our professor last year. And his lectures have been pretty helpful.”

  I checked my watch. Another minute or so before Fleur was out of class. We were going to grab lunch in the cafeteria and then work on our project in the library. So far the app was going pretty well, but I was still nervous. It wasn’t just my future on the line; it was also hers.

  “Maybe we can study together?” she suggested. “I’d really love it if you could explain some things to me. You always seem to know what’s going on, and I’m a little lost.”

  “Yeah. Sure . . .” My voice trailed off as my gaze fell on Fleur a few feet away.

  It was mid-November and the weather was already cold. She was dressed in a pair of white jeans, a black top, those same black boots from that night at Mist, and a black furry vest thing that, knowing Fleur, was probably real fur. Her hair was up, her lips pink, and I loved her.

  ###

  Fleur

  I knew I was supposed to be one of those girls who didn’t get jealous. I was supposed to be all, It’s fine if he hangs out with other girls. I trust him. And yeah, that part was true. I did trust Max. And I wasn’t worried he was going to leave me for someone else—especially not a girl with bad eyebrows and dark roots, dressed in a hideous sweater.

  But I was possessive in a “Don’t even think about stealing my man” sort of way. I hadn’t missed the way the girl had asked him to help her study in that syrupy-sweet tone. Or played with her hair while she spoke, which everyone knew was the universal, international symbol for Let’s get it on.

  So I staked my claim and sent the message loud and clear that, a) he had a girlfriend, b) he had a girlfriend who ate girls like her for breakfast, and c) he had a girlfriend who was already giving him everything he needed to get. There wasn’t anything left for her to give.

  I walked up to Max, ignoring the girl completely. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body flush against his. It sent the message that we were intimately familiar with each other’s bodies, and the second we connected, I knew he didn’t see anything but me. My lips came next, and his mouth opened immediately to meet my kiss, his tongue brushing against mine, his hands tightening around my waist. It was a fast kiss but a deep one, a quick imprinting that was partially a claim staking and partially me just missing him. I hadn’t seen him all day.

  I pulled back slowly, his hand on my ass, my body still wrapped around his.

  I flashed him a wicked grin. “Hi, baby.”

  His eyes sparkled with humor. I wasn’t the kind of girl who called a guy “baby,” and he knew it. He had also definitely picked up on the claim staking, and by the way I felt him hardening against my hip, he liked it.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” he whispered.

  I moved to the side, his arm firmly around my waist. I lay my head on his shoulder, and I smiled as I registered the look of surprise on the girl’s face. And by surprise, I meant shock.

  We hadn’t advertised the fact that we were dating, and a lot of the student body didn’t live on campus, so I guessed she hadn’t seen us around together and didn’t know.

  Now she did.

  Max broke the silent pissing contest. “This is my girlfriend, Fleur.”

  I felt a flutter at that. A big fucking flutter.

  She nodded, her lips tightening. “Hey, I’m Jules.”

  I granted her a nod and a bigger smile.

  She looked uncomfortable, and then she mumbled something about having to go study and left.

  Max turned to face me, pulling me against him again. Laughter filled his voice. “What was that?”

  I shrugged. “I can kind of be a bitch.”

  He grinned.

  “And I can be possessive.” I was silent as it built inside me. “Especially with you.”

  I looked down, not sure I was ready to meet his gaze. Part of what had just happened was totally ego, but a bigger part of it was that I felt like I’d finally found a guy who I wanted to be with. Who was good to me and gave me what I needed. I didn’t want to lose him.

  He was like a gorgeous Fendi bag at the bottom of a bin at a sample sale. Maybe you hadn’t been looking for it, maybe you hadn’t even wanted it, but the second you saw it and realized the deal you were getting, you had to have it. And you carried it around with you like your life depended on it, afraid to set it down for even a second because you worried that if you did, someone else would see it, realize its worth, and snatch it away from you.

  It was a miracle that he had been single when we’d hooked up. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  A better woman would have probably been all, I just want him to find someone who makes him happy. I just want him to be happy. And I did. More than anything I wanted him to be happy. But I wasn’t altruistic. Not by a long shot. I wanted to be the one who made him happy. I wanted to be the one who made his face light up. Wanted to be the one he kissed. The one whose hand he held.

  So Jules could fail Multinational Corporations for all I cared. Seduction by studying was not happening on my watch.

  His fingers lifted my chin, holding me in place while our gazes collided. The expression he sent me was a combination of desire and affection that had me melting.

  “Do you know how hot that is?” Max whispered.

  I moved forward an inch, feeling him against me. “I think I have some idea.”

  He groaned. “How hungry are you?”

  God, he was amazing.

  “I could skip lunch.”

  His eyes closed. “Good. George has class.”

  Yes.

  “What about studying?” I teased as he grabbed my hand and started pulling me down the hall.

  “Fuck studying.”

  ###

  Max

  I fumbled with the door lock, the lust pounding in my brain making it tough to concentrate. I was so hard it hurt. It didn’t help that Fleur had her arms wrapped aro
und my waist, her breasts pressed against my back. Her hands moved down and stroked me through my jeans, and my hand slipped on the metal keypad.

  “Jesus,” I hissed, struggling to get my body under control.

  We’d had weeks of foreplay now, and I basically existed in a state of agony. I was constantly turned on, constantly wanting, perpetually distracted. She was everywhere, and try as hard as I could, I couldn’t see past her. She was everything.

  I got it on the third try, opening the door and pulling her into the room as I slammed the door shut behind us.

  Thank god George was in classes all day.

  I turned, grabbing her arms and pulling them around my waist, putting my mouth on hers. I used my tongue to show her what I wanted to do with my body. My hips rocked against hers, my cock desperate to sink inside her warmth. We were hurtling toward sex each time our lips touched, and my body knew it. I was shocked we’d lasted this long.

  Every time I kissed her she gave me another piece of herself. Each time I learned something new about her, something she didn’t share with anyone else.

  My touch gentled from demanding to soothing. On the surface this was sex—the potential for great sex—but this feeling inside me wasn’t just about sex. It was everything.

  And then need took over.

  Our hands were a mad tangle in a desperate race to touch. She gripped the hem of my shirt, tugging it up my back, over my head. She groaned as we had to pull apart for it to come off, and then it was on the floor, and her mouth was back on mine, and her hands were everywhere.

  She stroked my skin, kneaded my muscles. She broke away from my mouth and began pressing kisses along my collarbone, on my pecs, down lower, kissing the ridges of my stomach, her tongue tasting me there.

  I groaned, my hands fisting in her hair. I pulled her vest off her shoulders. Then her top. I stepped back to take in her bra.

  I’d learned that Fleur loved lingerie. I never saw her in the same thing twice, and every piece she had seemed designed to elevate my blood pressure and lower my heart rate. Today was no exception. Her bra was lacy and hot pink, and it pushed her cleavage together in a way that made me want to pay tribute to the lingerie gods.

  I moved forward to unhook her bra, but she evaded my grasp as she sank to her knees in front of me.

  My heart fucking stopped.

  Her hand at my belt, I watched, mesmerized as she unbuckled it, unbuttoning the top button of my jeans, the sight of her bright-pink fingernails on my zipper mind-blowing. She unzipped my pants, and then her hands were on my hips, pulling my jeans down. All thoughts had fled, so I stood there in a stupor while she handled me. She moved lower, tugging off my boots and socks until I stood before her in just my boxers.

  Fleur looked up at me, her eyes shining, a naughty smile on her lips. I heard the words, third base leave her mouth, and then my boxers were gone and I was naked in front of her.

  The energy swirling around us became something heavier, deeper.

  And then she took me between her lips, sucking me deep, and my brain went dead.

  She felt so good—warm and wet—and the sight of her on her knees in front of me was hotter than anything ever. I stroked her hair while she sucked on me, while she ran her tongue along my cock, while she fisted me, her hand and wrist twisting, creating an amazing friction. There were moments when it felt like I’d drifted in and out of consciousness, moments when I almost feared my knees would buckle with pleasure. She held me in the palm of her hand, and there was no question I was hers.

  She used her hands and her mouth, her movements getting faster, harder, as if she could time my orgasm better than I could. And when I came, when my release slammed into me, carrying my body away, she looked up at me, and our gazes locked, and I knew I’d dream of her for the rest of my life.

  ###

  Fleur

  We lay on our sides facing each other in bed. Max was naked. I’d taken off my clothes and only left on my bra and lace boyshorts. He’d hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me against his body. His expression was slightly dazed.

  I’d never loved giving blowjobs. They were fine; they just weren’t my favorite thing on the menu. Not anymore. There was something about the way Max had looked at me—the awe and desire on his face—that had just bumped them up an item or two. I liked them with Max. I liked everything with Max.

  “You okay?” he whispered, burying his face in my hair as his fingers lazily stroked patterns on my stomach. Each touch sent a tremor through me.

  I grinned. “Way better than okay.”

  He rolled over to his stomach, pressing a kiss on to my chest. “You’re amazing.”

  “Because I give good blowjobs?” I teased.

  “You give fucking amazing blowjobs,” he corrected. “And no, that’s not why.”

  I stretched my arms over my head, back arching, and tossed him a lazy grin. “Well then, don’t let me stop you. Please tell me all the ways in which I’m amazing. Just so you know, examples are always welcome.”

  He laughed. “There it is. You always make me smile. And laugh. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in my day or how stressed I am, you always make me feel lighter. You bring smiles everywhere you go.”

  I cracked up at that. “I find that hard to believe. Just so you know, it hasn’t escaped my notice that I have a bit of a temper, that I can be difficult.”

  He shrugged, and it was so adorable I had to kiss him.

  “I like your moods,” he mumbled against my mouth.

  “No one likes my moods,” I corrected.

  “I do. Everything with you is exciting. You keep me on my toes, babe.”

  My expression turned serious as I gave voice to one of my biggest fears. “What if you get tired of exciting? What if you just want normal or boring? What if you decide you want easy and calm?” I paused. “I can’t give you that. I can try, but I’ll probably fail. It’s not who I am, and if I’ve learned anything about myself, it’s that I suck at faking it.”

  Max shook his head. “Don’t you get it? I know that. I’ve had over three years to figure out who you are. And I was stupid for a while, only seeing parts of you, not all of you.”

  His gaze met mine.

  “You make a guy work for it. You don’t give all of yourself. You give pieces. And the pieces you give are the ones you think are the toughest to love. You test people. I’m not going to fail.”

  Mon dieu. He could read me like a book.

  “I think you’re scared. It’s easy to love the beautiful, sexy girl who’s every guy’s fantasy. You think it’s harder to love the real girl—the one who is still beautiful, and sexy, and smart, but has a hot temper. The one who could kiss you or kill you depending on her mood. But you’re wrong. It’s just as easy to love that girl as it is to love the perfect girl. Maybe even easier. Because she’s real. I want you, exactly as you come. I want the parts of you that you don’t give to anyone else.”

  I bit back the emotion rising in my throat.

  “No one’s perfect, Fleur. We all have our flaws, our own shit we’re dealing with. Whoever told you yours wasn’t lovable was so fucking wrong. I want you. Only you.”

  ###

  Max

  She stared at me, eyes wide, lips parted. I was so in love with her. She was mine, and I’d meant what I said. I wanted all of her, even if I had to work for it.

  I shifted in bed, moving lower, the need for her building inside me. I didn’t hesitate. I just pulled her underwear off and tossed them on the floor, and she spread her legs instinctively as I settled my weight there, and then my mouth was on her.

  I tasted her, my lips and tongue teasing until her body was trembling and her wetness surrounded me. I fucked her with my fingers, drowning in her warmth, in her tight, wet heat.

  After she came, I wrapped her up in my arms and held her, tucking her against the curve of my body.

  “Max?” she whispered, her voice sleepy.

  “Yeah?”

  She cud
dled back against me, her ass brushing my cock.

  “I can’t wait for home.”

  I smiled so wide my face hurt as I remembered our earlier conversation about bases.

  “Neither can I, babe.”

  I set my alarm for an hour before George would be back in the room, and then we fell asleep, our bodies spooning, and even though I’d just had her, I dreamed of the girl in my arms.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Fleur

  A week passed, the London weather turned colder and things with Max kept getting better and better. We didn’t have sex, not full-on anyway, but we continued with the world’s best foreplay.

  Despite the lack of sex, there was still a familiarity with us. I’d never been friends with a boyfriend before, never just enjoyed hanging out together. With Costa it had been physical from day one. With Max, the heat was there, but the slow burn gave us the chance to build a friendship at the same time. I discovered I liked spending time with him, even if it meant doing things I’d never imagined myself doing before.

  Like celebrating American holidays.

  “I need you to come to Paris with me this weekend,” I told Maggie. “You and Samir,” I amended. It would better if there were a big group involved. Especially if Maggie was there to show me what I needed to do. “And I need you to explain to me about Thanksgiving.”

  Maggie gaped at me. “Thanksgiving?”

  I nodded. “Max mentioned that it’s Thanksgiving this weekend and that he’s homesick for American things. So I’ve decided to host Thanksgiving in Paris. My parents are in Argentina, so our flat will be empty. There are plenty of bedrooms for everyone, and I figured we could make it a big group—you, me, Samir, Max, Michael, Mya, and George. Maybe George’s girlfriend, so he doesn’t feel awkward. I went online and started looking at menu options, but I couldn’t decide what to go with. I mean, turkey seems to be standard, but all of the sides started to get confusing and—”

  “You’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner for seven people?”