He’d been burned, too.
We needed each other. I wanted to rip my clothes off and get naked with him, but I stared down at our covered knees and said, “My honeymoon ends in a week, and in America, we talk about being exclusive.”
He took off my heel, placed it on the floor, and his light touch tickled. “Talk? In France if we continue kissing and carrying on as we are then we’re dating.”
His lips were burned onto mine, and his was the only kiss I craved more than food. I straightened my collar. “But you’re going to Monte Carlo? I didn’t think we’d last beyond a train ride.”
He played with my fingers. “Look, stay with me while you’re in Europe. My friends are in Monte Carlo. I’ll introduce you when we arrive, and then we’ll take it from there.”
As our palms touched, my body was already his for the taking. “My honeymoon for one was planned for Italy.”
He pushed my hair off my shoulder and asked, “Is that set in stone? You must be there the day after tomorrow? We can go there after Monte Carlo… together.”
Together sounded amazing, but details would be good. I’m used to planning and taking care of the minutia that men never wanted to deal with in the office. At least that was the old me.
I ignored how my skin burned for his touch as he came closer to my neck. “Did you have something else in mind?”
His lips lightly brushed against my neck, teasing me awake. “I’ve booked a nice place already, and I committed to meet old friends I’d not seen since I was a boy. We can join them for a few days. Some of the group are Americans, so you’ll fit in.”
His American friends might remind me that Quentin and I were only temporary. In a week, I would go home, find a new job to manage, and prove myself capable and smart.
I already had my résumé out there.
Either way, with Quentin, I was none of that. I was a ball of aching need all wrapped up in oversensitive skin. I sipped my wine like I was some sophisticated lady and then said, “Before I answer, one more question.”
His suckling on my neck sent a thrill inside me. “What?”
My mind went blank for a moment. I needed clarity, and I wasn’t used to just throwing caution to the wind. My view whirled. I put my glass down and turned to see my reflection in his eyes. “You’re okay if I leave once my trip is over?”
He made a tortured sound. “I’ll be sad to see our relationship end, if that’s what you choose.”
The thought struck me hard. My choice. That sounded nice. And I was the one who would leave this time. He wasn’t using more than I offered. I turned and let my legs curl over his. “One more question.”
His eyebrow cocked. “You just said that.”
I shook and laughed. I probably sounded hysterical. Once I ignored the adrenaline in my veins, I massaged his muscles lightly and rephrased. “Fair. Another question.”
He traced my leg. “What?”
I curled my hair in his thick dark hair and pressed my forehead to his. “You’re not suddenly in love with me because of a few kisses, right? I mean there is a reason American girls tend to dream more about Italian guys than French guys.”
His shoulders stiffened. “What do you mean? France is vastly superior.”
Come now. Everyone preferred Italian men. “I don’t know about that, but the stereotype is the French fall in and out of love fast.”
His lips curled to show those dimples of his that proved I was right, and he sucked in his breath. “You’re funny, Kara. It’s one of the things I like about you.”
A weeklong escape from my life was why I’d come to Europe for a vacation. I cupped his face and said, “Well, I do like kissing you, Quentin, and it will be nice to have a vacation boyfriend.”
“It’s all I can offer.”
Then his lips met mine, and I kissed him back, not ever wanting to stop. Luckily, this passion would only be short-term; I’d never be able to be this intense for a lifetime. Just for now. And just with him. My wanker.
Chapter 8
Quentin
Finally, I was here, with Kara.
My heart rate increased, which was normal during all sex, but tonight I wasn’t a doctor or a scientist.
Kara was nothing like anyone else, and soon I’d get that shirt off her and find out what color nipples she had and if they changed color when aroused.
A short-term girlfriend sounded perfect, especially if it was Kara. I’d be a horrible choice for forever; I wasn’t able to protect those I loved.
I ran my hand over her shirt and tugged the bottom. I needed to see those globes of hers and suck on her peaks until they were pebbles.
For a moment, I had to remove my lips from her body, but as I peeled off the shirt, I saw her white, no-nonsense bra.
I laughed. I swear my mother probably had the same bra. Every other woman in my life wore lace for me, except Kara. She lowered her lashes and said, “I didn’t pack right. I thought I’d be alone and taking long walks.”
I didn’t say anything. I slipped off the cotton straps and reached behind her. I needed to see her breasts. Now. My prize was so close now. I pulled her closer and crushed her hard against me. I needed to taste her on me like I needed coffee in the morning to function.
And her lips on mine just made my wanker—which I now called Big Quentin—turn into stone.
Before I plunged into her, though, her breasts demanded my attention.
She slipped her bra off the rest of the way during the kiss, and I let her go. The air between us was still, and I saw pinkish brown nipples, but they weren’t hard pebbles. Not yet.
I’d have to correct that so she ached. I sucked in the areola, so her nipples peeked out. Her skin alone caused a rush of blood straight to my cock.
God, her breasts swelled, and I bent to taste her now obvious tips, ready just for me.
Kara was mine in this moment.
I’d meant what I said, but I hadn’t expected her to go down on her knees and tug my sweats off my body.
At least I’d not worn fucking underwear to get in the way, but her tongue licked Le Zob like I was a lollipop, and then she sucked it inside her hot mouth.
I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. My erection was full-fledged and raring for release.
I’d not let that happen, yet. I tugged myself out of her warm mouth as I needed to be with her. I needed to taste her vagina to see if she was ready for me. I helped her stand and removed her underwear and pants, so we were both naked.
Fair was fair.
We moved to the bed, so I could lay her down and see if her labia was swollen. If so, the fun would begin in full. She moved her legs open as I requested, and my eyes widened.
Damn, she was ready for me.
But we’d not go fast.
I wasn’t an animal, even if she made me feel like one.
I pushed a finger inside her and she bucked on the mattress.
I continued to plunge in and out, her perky bullets bouncing as my thumb found her clit. Playing with her body to find her button only turned her red. She was intoxicating and mine.
This primal need was new for me. I let her go, grabbed a condom from my pocket, and slipped it on fast as I stared at her swollen netherlips.
This was it. If fucking actually did make me forget all my sins, I’d be grateful. I knew this was a ride to savor and remember, and I rammed Mr. Wanker into her. She bucked forward in rhythm with me.