26 Hours in Paris (12 page)

“I did,” she breathed into the glass. “I finished.”

Marko exhaled, apparently out of relief. Dropping his napkin, he pushed back his chair, and rounded the table. He pulled her from her seat and crushed her mouth with a celebratory kiss.

“Congratulations,
bella
. I'm so happy for you. So very happy.”

“Now you finish, now you stay,” Antoine concluded.

“I can't wait to read it,” Marko said. He beamed with pride. They'd fleshed out the characters together, each covertly putting pieces of themselves in the romantic duo, but she'd never shared the ending. “Do you have a copy on your laptop?”

Kat's insecurity surfaced, and she pulled out of his arms and turned toward the hearth. She gazed at the fire. She may have finished the story, but the ending wasn't what she'd wanted to write or what he'd want to hear.

“It wasn't a big deal. The book needed an ending,” she said, hunching her shoulders toward her chest. “That's all.”

“How does it end?” Marko asked.

Kat didn't need to see Marko's face to feel his eyes on her. It was a silent dream they'd shared, something they'd never admitted to, but a dream nonetheless.

“She becomes a successful attorney, making partner by thirty-five.”

“And?” His voice, lower than usual, coaxed her to answer differently. She knew he knew. He didn't really want to hear the ending she'd written.

“Having it all, she still wants a child. She makes it happen via a reputable sperm bank.” It wasn't perfect, but nothing in life was ideal. “She lives happily ever after with her beautiful babies. Twins.”

“Where is he?” Marko asked.

Kat swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “He's also very successful. An esteemed researcher that lectures all over the world, he's the most intellectual eligible bachelor. Other than the pictures she sees in the papers, she doesn't know much about him. They drifted apart. Live separate lives.”

“I see.” Marko stepped away, and the loss of his heat on her back chilled her heart.

Awkward silence descended.

It was fiction—they knew it was fiction. But something about the writing was so real. Small quirks and big personality issues had found their way to the page, identifying the author's true thoughts. Unable to admit to the desires in the book, she'd keep the finished manuscript hidden away and never let another person read it. It was fan fiction of the life she led and the life that was out of her reach.

She'd put more of herself into the story than intended. Hurt and loneliness were common characteristics of the heroine. At least she'd found joy in the babies.

The arrival of a text message sounded. She turned back and looked from Marko to Antoine, but neither moved. Glancing around the open space, she saw her bag by the door. A second alert dinged.

“It's yours,” Marko said, crossing his arms over his chest. She read the agitation in the posture, saw the anger in the color of his face, but she accepted the momentary reprieve from their situation and went in search of her phone.

While she rummaged through the tote, Marko and Antoine resumed their conversation in French. They spoke quickly and at a low volume, so she wasn't able to process what they said. She didn't mind. Actually, she didn't want to know. Kat needed space to save her sanity. Getting wrapped up in a day's fantasy wasn't the way to succeed.

She couldn't help but smile at Paul's innuendo. She wasn't shy and bashful any longer. She could give as hard as she got.

Hitting send, she strolled back to the table and dropped into her chair. She held the phone in one hand, reached for her wine with the other. Her thumb hovered over the keypad, waiting for Paul's inevitable smartass response.

An immediate second ding had her collapsing the keyboard to continue reading
.

He'd added a picture of an old-fashioned metal garbage can.

He couldn't be serious? She'd traveled to Paris for research. She wanted—no,
deserved
—her byline. Downing the last of the wine in her glass, she folded her forearms on the table and dropped her head into them. She wanted to scream. “No fucking way,” she lamented in a whisper.

“What's wrong?” Marko rubbed the tight knot between her shoulders, and sat in the chair previously occupied by Antoine. “Who is it?”

“Work,” she said, peeking over her arms and looking at the empty wineglass with longing. “Paul is being an ass.”

“Typical,” Marko said. He reached for the bottle and refilled her glass.

Paul's reply dinged. She sipped on the wine, then looked at the screen.

The next ding was for a picture of a man's snug ass, covered by a pair of Levi's jeans worn low on his hips. The next was of three men in exaggerated flex positions by the pool.

She placed the phone face down on the table and drank more wine. A flush crept up her neck and settled on her cheeks. “He can't do this. He's such a dick.”

“Do not let work ruin your time in Paris,” Antoine said. “Work is work. It is not worth disappointment.”

“It's just Paul,” Marko added. He reached across her and moved the wine just out of her reach. Cutting a small piece of the smoked ham, he paired the meat with some bread and held it by her lips. “Eat.”

She opened her mouth, but didn't taste what she was sure was a delicious bite as she chewed and swallowed. “I'm not listening to him. I'm not.”

“Okay,” Marko agreed. “You always find a way to get what you want, sweetheart. Dealing with Paul is not an exception.”

“Third, you must be true to yourself,” Antoine boomed, rising from his seat and coming around the table to place a hand on her shoulder in a show of his support.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice. It was as if the wind had stilled and her sails had dropped, but she wasn't giving up. She was getting the byline.

“I want to give my friends a little advice. A few words an old man once said to me, but I was too young to understand and follow. Today, now that it is too late, I appreciate them,” Antoine said, meeting both of their gazes in turn.

Kat reached and picked up her glass, but Antoine indicated for her to return it to the table.

“I do not need a drink to say this,” Antoine said. “I may want to shake some sense into Marko for not acting faster, but I do not need wine.”

The imposing man stood between them, first touching his fingers to his heart, then dropping a heavy hand on each of their shoulders.

She glanced at Marko, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his annoyance at the turn of events. The little muscle in his cheek pulsed, and lines of restraint marked his forehead. He met her gaze, warning her to stay the course. She looked down and squared her shoulders in the opposite direction.

Antoine's fingers squeezed tighter. “Do not waste a second more when you can live with love every minute. Make every hour count. Live every day. Do not push away what is in your heart.”

A lump the size of France settled in Kat's throat. She blinked back her own tears and forced a smile. If only it were that easy to embrace what was in her heart.

Marko didn't budge. Thankfully, Antoine did.

“
Et maintenant
, I must return to the
boulangerie
,” he said, and gave her a reassuring smile. “
Faire la bise, ma douce chérie
.”

She performed the ritual air kisses and said good-bye to her new friend. Kat turned her back just in time to hide a solitary tear. She walked toward the sitting area, listening as Marko thanked Antoine for the meal and bade him farewell.

They were alone.

K
at wrapped her arms across her middle, stared at the rain streaming down the tall panes, and dug her fingernails into her palms. The fairy tale had come to an end prematurely. She had to get out without falling apart.

Silently, Marko returned to the hearth and tended to the fire. Tension rolled off his broad shoulders as he added wood. She'd made Marko feel like shit over the ending of her story, and the feature was being pulled from under her feet. Things were on a quick downward spiral.

She wanted to go to him, to run her fingers over the muscled arms and tell him that the novel was just fiction. But she wouldn't lie. They each had their lives, and the reality was that their paths may have crossed, but they weren't meant to merge. She turned back to the icy chill drizzling on the beautiful church and waited for him to speak.

“Don't worry about Paul. You'll get him to come around.” Big, warm palms closed on her upper arms. He leaned into her and settled his cheek against the side of her head. “I'm more sorry about the weather. Our picnic at Pont Marie is postponed, but we'll take a walk along the quay once the rain stops.”

“It's okay. We've had a great day. Thank you,” she said, casually lifting a shoulder and trying to hide her nervousness. “I really should get going anyway. I need to check in at the hotel and start working on the piece while everything I've seen today is fresh in—

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” he repeated, his fingers holding her steady.

The intensity in that single word froze her in place. No amount of wood on the fire could chase away the chills that raced down her spine.

He trailed a single finger across her arm, immobilizing Kat as he circled to stand in front of her. He cradled her face in his palms. Stroking his thumbs over her cheekbones, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth over her lips, licking slowly between them and urging them to open.

Her lips parted and closed around his tongue. She sucked on him deep and long, wanting to commit his taste to memory forever. She closed her eyes and held back most of the tears that had threatened numerous times in the past hour. She couldn't help it.

Sinking against him, she let his strength carry her. His hands moved down her back and cupped her ass, pulling her closer and pressing his arousal against her tummy. Need spread over her, but her mind fought the sensation. The hurt in her chest from the realization that she couldn't have what she most wanted intensified.

Breaking the kiss, he smoothed away the moisture from her cheeks. Fitting a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face and looked into her eyes. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”

* * *

Marko recognized the look. Hated the look. He wasn't going to let it stand.

“Paul said to forget the article. He said Charlie could take care of it. I should have a fucking fun time.” Her voice trembled. “I guess I'm not good enough for a byline in his mind. I'm just pretty and flighty. . . .”

“You know that's not true,” Marko said. “You know you're more than good enough, and you know Paul knows it, too.” Her apprehension had nothing to do with her writing, and they both knew it. “You'll write the feature. You'll give
City Wings
a real choice on which article to publish, and I bet you'll get your byline. I'm not saying that your friend isn't a good writer; I'm just saying you're a great one. You always accomplish what you set your mind to. Set your mind to it and write the article.”

Kat worried her lower lip so hard that Marko feared she'd make it bleed. He pressed his thumb to her swollen mouth and forced her to stop.

“You're right,” she said, nodding her head and stepping back.

He saw the emotional shield drop, and he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth until they squeaked. He dreaded her next words. He knew what she'd say.

“I'm going to do it. I'm writing the article.” Her gaze darted around the room, as if searching for something to grab on to. She wanted support. “I just need to get to the hotel and regroup—

“No.” He reached for her hand and closed his fingers around her wrist. “You're not leaving. You're not going anywhere.”

Concern crossed her face. She looked into his eyes, seeking an explanation.

“Seriously, I should act like a true professional, get to the hotel, and start writing.”

“We settled that. You're a professional regardless of where you are,” he replied, refusing to allow her to justify any time apart from him.

“The hotel is prepaid and I'll lose the money if I don't show. It's a waste.”

“You know the money doesn't matter. Not to me. Not to Paul,” he insisted. “So if it makes you feel any better, give me the confirmation and I'll take care of it. You're not leaving. You relinquished yourself to me for the day. I say what happens. I decide.”

Relief replaced her concern. From the soft flow of her breath to the moisture in her eyes, to the return of her color, she told him everything her mouth wouldn't. She didn't want to go. Marko released her wrist, and she didn't step away. She remained by his side. Relief flooded through him, as well.

“I warned you that I would not allow you to run.”

She needed this. He needed this.

Kat held his gaze, her breathing loud and her curiosity piqued.

“You will find a way to write the damn thing, regardless of where you are. You're not leaving.” He added the
me
silently. “I won't let you go. However, I will discipline you for considering the ridiculous idea.”

Her mouth dropped into a pretty circle and her pupils dilated wide. The black practically covered all the beautiful color of her eyes. A pink flush marked her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. The cotton T-shirt did nothing to conceal her hard nipples, while his cock jerked against the harsh denim.

He sat in the center of the couch, spreading his legs to accommodate the painful swelling in his jeans. She still hadn't moved. She watched him with a hunger in those dark eyes that begged for him to continue. His Kat craved limits. She needed restraints.

“Come here,” he said, pointing down at the plush carpet.

She shuffled and stood between his feet.

“Good.” He rewarded her with a tap on her ass. “Take off your shirt.” He held his hand out, palm up, and watched as her fingers fumbled and lifted the white cotton over her creamy, tempting skin. The full smoothness of her heavy breasts bounced free as she tugged the shirt over her head, and his damn cock burned for her.

Still wordless, she laid the shirt in his palm and stood with arrogant pride. Her breasts pushed forward, curving slightly upward as her nipples grew even harder.

“Very nice,” he said. Rewarding her obedience, he circled a fingertip around one nipple until she moaned. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, then gently tugged on the excited peak to make her shift her stance and face him.

Her breasts were inches from his mouth, offered seductively as she looked through her long lashes at him. He could suck and lick her to orgasm if he chose, but . . .

“I promised to mark your ass so you couldn't sit comfortably for a flight, but now you require punishment for errant thoughts as well.” He rolled the tender flesh, and she gasped. He pinched it hard enough to let her know this wasn't a gentle act.

Taking the other delicious bud between his lips, he kept her in his mouth, nipping at her softness with his teeth, then soothing the ache with his tongue, only to suck harder and deeper the next time around. Teeth grazed a little bit closer to the taut tip each time he repeated the actions, until he felt her knees release and come to rest against his thighs.

Moaning, she arched her back. Her legs strained to hold her.

Greatly responsive, she would submit quickly.

He licked and nibbled, first one, then the other nipple, until her control broke and she straddled his thigh. He allowed her to work herself up, grinding against him, sliding a hand inside the boxers, and rubbing herself toward a much-needed climax. Her face flushed, her chest heaved, and the honeyed scent of her sex filled the air.

He wanted to watch her like that for a very long time, riding the edge for hours, and pining for a release only he would grant her. The power she gave him in knowing that he could either keep her from what she yearned for or grant her what she desired was so addictive. He shook his head. He had to focus.

“This is a punishment. Stand,” he instructed, lifting her effortlessly off his thigh.

Somehow, she managed to steady her shaking legs and find the energy to stand. Her hand, still shoved in the boxers, moved beneath the cotton with sinful intent. The guilty look on her face confirmed she continued to work her clit, even as she dropped her gaze to his feet.

He had to fight to keep from smiling. Greedy little wench. She'd learn to wait.

“Clasp your hands together behind your back,” he reprimanded.

She did. He pressed his face between her breasts, then leaned around her and secured her wrists with the T-shirt. The sound of the material tearing as he pulled it tight startled her and she jumped. He nipped at her breast and she stilled. “You're very responsive,
bella
, but you need to learn patience and how to release control.”

“Okay,” she whispered, a plea in her tone. “I'll do that.”

With a small tug, he lowered the oversized boxers off her hips. “I don't believe you know the meaning of letting go, but if you don't learn fast, your ass will be so sore that you won't be able to sit for weeks.”

He guided her over his knee, smoothing a hand up her spine and draping her silky hair over her shoulder. “
Tu est très jolie comme ça.
”

The first smack landed on the underside of her right ass cheek, but before she'd finished crying out, the second followed in the middle of her receptive flesh. Her skin promptly displayed two pink impressions that were so maddeningly pretty.

She groaned in pain and he was almost tempted to stop. Almost. The way her shoulders relaxed and her body went spineless urged him on. She needed this.

The soft sigh escaping her lips had him raising his hand above her ass and deciding on the next landing.

“The first two were to keep you uncomfortable on the plane. The next five are for disappointing me with your thoughts,” he explained. “They will sting more than the first.”

“More?” Kat's question was a whisper.

“More,” he confirmed. “Next time, I won't be as gentle as I was on the initial ones, nor will I be as lenient on the amount. Count.” He snapped his wrist and met her soft flesh.

“One!” she cried, her nails digging into her fisted hands.

“Two!” Her legs tensed and kicked back.

“Fall into the burn.”

“Three.”

“
Très jolie.
Let the darkness relieve you.”

Sweat beaded on the small of her back, but her arms had relaxed and her hands were held together only from the bound material.

“Four . . .” Kat said, when his hand slipped between her legs and found her soaked with desire.

“Not quite, sweetheart.” He rubbed through her swollen folds and circled her nub. “This is a caress. And it's not your ass that I'm caressing yet.”

Her head fell freely. He released her hands from the binds. One arm remained atop her back and against his torso, the other dropped to her side. She'd let go. She'd sunk in to the pleasure of the sting. His Kat had truly placed herself in his hands.

Four and five were light snaps, but she was too far gone and he could barely hear her count. So damn responsive. “Why did I wait so long?”

Securing her in his arms, he rose from the couch and carried her toward the stairs. There was only so much control left in his own body, and he needed to be inside her with an urgency he'd never known. There was no time to take her upstairs and be gentle.

He needed her.

“Hold on to me,” he said, slightly shifting her body and placing her arms over his shoulders. “Don't let go, sweetheart.”

“I won't,” she breathed, linking her hands behind his neck and nuzzling into him. “I won't.”

He pinned her back against the wall, holding her feet off the floor and brushing his mouth over hers. She responded, and they kissed and kissed and kissed, sharing a passion that had been denied for too long.

“I want you,” he said, supporting her with one arm, while the other hand unbuttoned his fly. “Tell me you can take me now.”

“I can take you,” she rasped, wriggling beneath him, searching for footing.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said, freeing his erection and pushing up against her sweet heat.

Thankfully she'd retained the ability to wrap her legs around his waist. He stroked up his length, positioning himself at her opening, and in one sure movement, drove into her welcoming body. He thrust long and hard, setting a grueling rhythm that had her tightening around him in seconds. He sank into her warm and moist haven, rougher than he logically knew was right, but he was unable to satiate the need to stake his claim until he felt her building climax push her over the edge.

First to surrender to the ecstasy, her muscles convulsing around his driving cock, she called his name. He freed his control and joined her in a blinding orgasm that kept rolling through them.

Marko gathered her close, holding her in his arms and turning to sit on the steps. Her breath was ragged and her body spent, but he soothed the shivers from her back and somehow he had managed not to collapse into a heap on the floor. He held her on his lap, dropping kisses on her hair and inhaling her sweet scent.