He raked his gaze over her, his face transfixed with longing. “Sweet Lord.”
Jeanne undid the button of her jeans, lowered the zipper and peeled off the jeans and the panties. She straightened and said, “Now you.”
As soon as he was naked, she took a step toward him, threw her arms around his neck, and pressed her body to his. His muscles were deliciously hard, and every inch of his skin was hot against hers.
Finally.
At last, they were naked together, skin against skin—no distance, no clothing, no barriers of any kind.
She moaned with the pleasure of it.
He growled low in his throat, slid one arm under her knees, and scooped her up. “Which way to the bedroom?”
“First door on your right.”
He carried her to the tiny bedroom, lowered her on the bed, and covered her with his body.
An hour later, Jeanne let her lids drop and curled up against him, feeling exquisitely drained, boneless, and sated.
He kissed the top of her head. “Ah. Coffee.”
She opened her eyes and propped herself up. “Coffee?”
“That’s how your hair smells. I love it.”
“Which confirms my theory. You’re a perv.”
“Want to hear something funny? I didn’t drink any coffee all summer. It was part of my getting-over-Jeanne program.”
“Wow. You should develop a ten-step tutorial and sell it online.” She winked. “Given the success of your program.”
He smiled and stroked her hair.
“Will you continue with the politics?” she asked.
He nodded. “I like it, and I believe in what the Greens stand for.”
“Will you run for mayor again?”
“Maybe. I may also stand for the cantonal elections or the regionals next year. But only if I’m ready. When I have a clear vision and a strategy.”
Jeanne hesitated for a brief moment and then asked, “Will you move to Paris?”
Mat shook his head.
“I can’t move to Baleville,” she said. “I recently bought La Bohème—”
“Jeanne, that’s fantastic news! Congratulations. Wasn’t it your dream?”
“Yep.” She traced his jawline with her thumb. “But how are we going to make it work with you in Baleville and me in Paris?”
“Easily. We’re only an hour and a half away. I’ll spend half of the week here, provided you have the Internet, so I can work. If not, I’ll get a subscription—”
“You’re in luck,” Jeanne cut in. “The National Barmaids’ Association has just issued a memo urging all its members to enter the digital era.”
He grinned. “I should send them a thank-you note.”
“You can even email it.”
He smirked, then propped himself on his elbow and stared into her eyes for a long moment. “Say you love me. Say you’re crazy about me.”
“You know I am.”
He traced his finger across her lips. “I need to hear it, Jeanne. Please. I need to hear you say it.”
She grinned, suddenly giddy. There it was—his vulnerability. The toad eye. He may have become a heartthrob, but deep inside he’d kept the sensitive soul that needed to hear her say she loved him back.
“I love you, Mat,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said covering his face with kisses. “I’m crazy about you. I want you to be my adored and adoring husband.”
He pulled her to him, gripped her hips, and in one swift move, plunged home.
<< <> >>
Excerpt from You’re the One
His eyebrows shot up. “You love romantic comedies?”
“Of course I do.” She feigned surprise. “Don’t you?”
“Uh.” He scratched his head. “How shall I put it? I haven’t seen many.”
“You must have seen Amélie.”
He shook his head.
“Really? Four Weddings and a Funeral? The Princess Bride?”
He threw his hands up, looking apologetic.
“OK, what about the classics—Roman Holiday? Pretty Woman? Groundhog Day?”
He gave her a panicked look and shook his head again.
“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you haven’t seen Pretty Woman.”
“I’ve heard of it, though,” he offered.
She rolled her eyes skyward. “What planet have you been living on?”
“Hmm. I can see I have an embarrassingly big gap in my general culture. I’m determined to fill it, though.” He paused for a second. “Will you help me? I haven’t got anyone to watch a romantic comedy with. Will you guide my uncertain first steps?”
She was flummoxed at how much the idea appealed to her. “I’ll give you my top twenty to get you started.”
His face fell. “That would be great.”
She needed to steer the conversation further away from the danger zone. “If I had a tenner for each romcom I’ve watched, I’d be a millionaire.”
He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and moved his lips, as if doing mental math. “I doubt it.”
“OK, maybe not a millionaire, but certainly better off than a teacher.”
“You don’t like being a teacher?”
His question gave her pause. “Is that how it came out? No, the only thing I don’t like about my job is the pittance they pay me. But I love every other aspect of it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Including the noisy little ankle-biters with permanently runny noses?”
“Especially them.”
“Well, I suppose there is something cute about them, if one looks beyond the noise and the runny noses.”
“They’re so small and . . .soft. They don’t have any sharp angles, even at their elbows and knees. And they ask the most unexpected questions.”
“They most certainly do. I’ve got two little nieces, and I’m on question-answering duty every Sunday when I’m in town,” he said.
“I’m sure they love their uncle. Isn’t it heartwarming to see how kids are excited about everything, how they try to figure things out, to make sense of the world?”
He nodded. “And you enjoy helping them, don’t you?”
“I do.” She grinned. “In fact, I love it so much I wish I had a chance to do a lot more of it.”
She bit her tongue, realizing she’d slipped from entertaining chitchat to a different kind of conversation—the kind wherein you revealed essential things about yourself. And if that shock wasn’t enough, Adrien’s expression certainly was. He smiled softly, his brown eyes filled with warmth and reassurance. It was like he was telling her he understood how she felt and he was on the same page. He didn’t think she’d been testing the waters with him, did he?
She grabbed her purse. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”
Once inside, she went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and shook her head vigorously. But the image was still there. God, that look on his face. That earnest, understanding look that said, I hear you.
How did it happen? How did this evening, which she’d envisioned as a succession of two showdowns, go so far off script? She tried to figure out what to do next. According to her watch it was almost seven o’clock. Fred and his . . .lady friend must have left earlier today, before she got to the bistro. This meant she had no business hanging around, flirting with Adrien, telling him about her dreams, giving him wrong ideas—and losing her high moral ground of a cheated-on girlfriend.
Feeling thoroughly ashamed, Natalie returned to the front dining room and placed a five euro note on her table. Adrien gave her a surprised look.
“I need to go home. It was nice seeing you again.”
She grabbed her coat and rushed out. As she was about to descend the stairs leading to the Metro, she heard Adrien’s voice.
“Natalie, wait!”
She swirled around.
He rushed to her side, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t . . .I wanted to . . . ” he stammered.
She looked at him expectantly. He stopped talking, took a step toward her, and took her in his arms. Before she had time to protest, he kissed her.
The kiss was so astonishingly sweet, it took her breath away. His lips felt soft and warm against hers and tasted heavenly. Without thinking, she closed her eyes and savored the unexpected pleasure of the moment. His hands roamed her back, then delved into her hair. She felt exquisitely lightheaded. He cradled the back of her head and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth, coaxing her to respond. And she did. How could she not respond to the way he held her, the way he smelled, the way his tongue caressed hers—it all felt so right, so impossibly good. It was as if she were being kissed by a sexy romcom hero and not by an offbeat nerd with unkempt hair. She hadn’t been kissed like that since her first year with Fred.
Fred!
Natalie broke the kiss and pulled away from Adrien’s embrace.
“I really need to go now,” she said and ran down the stairs.
End of Excerpt
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Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) Page 13