Fling in Paris (4 page)

Sherry shook her head and smiled—there was no reason to make the waiter’s life difficult, and the breakfast truly did look delicious. “Thank you very much,” she told him. “You can leave it here for me.”

The waiter smiled, and she slipped him a few euros as a tip before sending him on his way. Alone now, she picked up the tray and set it on the small table near the window before sitting out and digging in.

When she was lifting her third bite of eggs to her mouth, she spotted a small card tucked innocuously against one of the plates. She opened it to find a note, written in strong, bold cursive:

I look forward to seeing you tonight for dinner. If you want to see me before then I am in Room 1205. – Rob

He was here. In the hotel. The card slipped out of her fingers and landed on top of the butter dish, but she didn’t notice. What should I do?

She decided she would think about it carefully, and returned her attention to her breakfast. Should she ignore it, and simply wait until dinner? It would be stupid of her to go and see him before then, to give him an opportunity to try and charm her out of her clothes. But there was a tiny part of her, an irrational, fanciful corner of her mind that wanted to be charmed out of her clothes. But no, she really shouldn’t. Or should she?

She finished her breakfast, then took a long, hot, luxurious bath. On her days off she liked to take her time—to bring out the bathing salts and scented oils and relax, then afterwards pamper her body with creamy lotions and soft powders that made her skin feel like gold. As her marriage with Nick had gone downhill, as he had seem less and less interested in her, this ritual had become important to her life—it was the only way for her to assure herself that she was still womanly, still desirable. And now a man had walked into her life that was reaffirming those thoughts.

She exited the bathroom with a robe wrapped around her body and a towel in her hair, and was heading to the closet when her phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered, wondering if it was Marie. She could use a girlfriend to talk this over with right about now.

“Sherry,” Nick’s voice answered, sounding slightly breathless. Her heart plummeted down into the soles of her feet—she didn’t want to talk to him. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

“What do you want?” she snapped. “I haven’t had a chance to sign the damn papers yet. I’ve been busy.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He paused, and she heard him suck in a breath. “I don’t want you to sign the papers.”

“What?” She shrieked. Shocked by his statement.

“I still love you, Sherry.”

“No.” She squashed the hope rising up in her chest with anger. “Nick, you can’t do this to me. You can’t trample all over my heart and then come running back and say that you love me.”

“Please, baby,” Nick pleaded. “I know I was wrong, I know I was a total asshole, but I really do love you. I broke it off with Ashley today because every time I look at her all I see is you. I love you, Sherry.”

Sherry stood there for a moment, her throat choked with tears. She wanted so much to believe what Nick was saying. “You broke up with her?” she finally asked.

“Yes. She’s gone. History. Please, baby, come home. I want to give this another go. I need you so much.”

Sherry sighed. “I really have to think about this, Nick. And I can’t just up and leave right now—I’m in the middle of a work assignment.”

“I get that,” Nick assured her. “I know work is important. But please, promise me that when you’re done you’ll come home, and we’ll try to work things out.”

“Of course.” She was going to come back to Canada anyway, and now she would have her husband to look forward to when she came back. “Of course I will, baby.”

“Thank you so much, honey.” He blew her a kiss over the speaker. “I’ve got to go, my shift’s starting soon, but I love you. I know we can get through this.”

“Love you too. Bye.” She hit the end button on her cell phone, then sat down carefully at the edge of the bed. This was the reason she hadn’t signed the divorce papers, she reminded herself. She had been hoping so desperately that Nick would change his mind, and now that he had she should be jumping up and down, dancing around the room with joy. She wasn’t going to get divorced after all!

So then why did she feel so hollow inside?

Several hours went by, and Sherry still hadn’t decided what to do about Roberto. She’d contemplated going over to his hotel room to call off the date, but she was afraid that if she saw him her resolve might weaken— a single look from him did things to her system she didn’t fully understand. Besides, she had promised him this one date. She could tell him about Nick, and why she couldn’t have a relationship with him. Right?

Someone knocked at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She crossed the room and opened it, figuring it was the waiter again, then blinked as she saw Rob standing outside instead. He was dressed casually—his white-button down shirt open at the top to reveal a hint of his bronzed chest, which was muscular and lightly dusted with black hairs. Blue jeans encased his long jeans, tight enough to showcase his muscle tone without making him look gay.

“I was tired of waiting,” he said simply, moving past her into the room.

“Why don’t you come on in, then?” Sherry asked sarcastically as she closed the door behind her and turned to face him. Though her heart was fluttering like a butterfly on steroids, she wasn’t entirely certain she appreciated the invasion of her privacy—and with the way his big body filled the room, she felt as if her entire space was being invaded.

“You look stunning Sherry,” he told huskily, a hungry look in his eyes as they traveled the length of her body.

She rolled her eyes—her hair was disheveled, and she wore nothing but a simple robe. Rich Italian men didn’t find that attractive. “Please, Roberto. You just want to get in my pants.” And now, especially now, she couldn’t afford to let him do it.

“No. I want to get under your robe.” He grinned, and the expression was as ravenous as his eyes.

“Why?” She backed up a step—not in fear of him, but in fear of the feelings he was stirring in her. Her mind wanted him to leave her alone, but her heart was fluttering like a butterfly on steroids. What was wrong with her? Her husband had just told her that he wanted her. She should be outraged that Roberto was hitting on her.

“Do you believe in fate or love at first sight?” he asked, surprising her.

“No.” She snorted.

“Neither do I,” he admitted, taking a step toward her. “But after the past week, I’m wondering if maybe I should start. I don’t know if it’s love I’m feeling, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. You’re in my every waking thought, and when I go to sleep all I dream of is you.” He wanted to say that his dreams had been full of fantasies, of licking every inch of that caramel skin, of taking that lusciously curved body in every position possible. But he didn’t want to scare her off.

“Yeah right.” Tell him about Nick, her conscience urged. He’ll leave you alone if you tell him. “You just want to fuck me,” she sneered instead. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He took her hands gently in his; massaging the center of her palms gently like he’d done the night before. “That is why I want to spend time with you." He told her. He sounded so sincere that she couldn’t bear to talk about Nick right now.

"Okay then.” She sat back down on the bed. “Let’s talk.”

They talked for several hours, discussing their careers and respective pasts. Roberto talked a bit about his family, who owned several vineyards in Italy—she’d been right about him coming from old money. He’d lived and breathed the business from a young age, but after going to college he decided he wanted to make his own mark and gotten a job at OS International, rising up the ranks until they had made him district manager in Naples, and then had moved him out to Paris to head up the new branch here. The knowledge that he wasn’t just a pretty boy who’d lived in the lap of luxury his whole life, but had actually used his brains and hands to make something of himself without the help of his family, made her more comfortable. He became more approachable to someone like her, who had come from nothing.

Against her better judgment, Sherry skirted around the subject of her marriage and instead told him about her childhood in the USA and her family subsequent move to Toronto. She talked about how she’d come up from being one of five children to a single mother to an HR Executive by working her ass off in high school to earn a full scholarship to the University of Toronto. She’d graduated at the top of her class with an MBA, minoring in communication, and had landed herself a good job in OS International after that.

“I have to admire you, Sherry,” Roberto told her, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I had my family’s wealth and support to help me make what I did possible, but you earned everything you have with your own sweat and blood.” He shook his head and reached across the table to caress her cheek. “You’re an amazing woman—strong, smart, and beautiful.”

His words stunned her; even Nick had never said these things to her, had never acknowledged or understood just how hard it was for her to come from where she did to where she was now. Maybe that was why she let Roberto draw her into his lap. Maybe that was why she didn’t protest when he framed her face with his hands and lowered his lips to hers.

Roberto groaned as he kissed Sherry’s soft lips—he’d ached for this, just this, since yesterday, and now that he had it he couldn’t get enough. He nipped and sucked at her bottom lip, eliciting a low moan from her, and then took advantage of the opening by thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She tasted good, so damn good, and he was sure that the rest of her would taste just as sweet. Possibly even sweeter.

Sherry whimpered as Roberto sucked gently at her tongue, then shivered as he parted her robe and slid his hands up her abdomen to cup her breasts. His fingers brushed lightly over her nipples and she cried out at the pure stab of sensation that went straight down to her womb. She tore her lips away from his, fighting for breath to speak, to tell him that they shouldn’t be doing this, that she had a husband waiting for her at home, but he began pinching her nipples lightly, tugging.

“Oh God, Roberto,” was the only thing that came out of her mouth—she couldn’t seem to say anything that would make him stop this, this sweet torture that set her body on fire.

“Mmm, I like it when you say my name like that,” Roberto murmured huskily, trailing opened-mouth kisses down the side of her neck and across her chest. “Let’s see if I can get you to do it again.” One of his hands slid around to the middle of her back, supporting her as he tilted her, then lowered his dark head down to take a nipple into her mouth.

“Oh God!” she cried, her back arching, her breasts pressing into his face. Her legs tightened on either side of his hips, and she could feel his cock straining against his jeans, pressing against her bare pussy. She rubbed herself shamelessly against him, coating his jeans with her cream as he sucked and nibbled on one nipple, then the other.

“You’re killing me, Roberto,” she moaned.

He lifted his head to grin wickedly at her. “Should I stop, then?” he asked, sounding innocent, though Sherry knew better. He was doing this to make her hotter, wetter, and it was working.

“No, I…” I what? she thought. I’m married, but I want you to fuck me blind? She couldn’t say that to him.

“Hmm?” he asked, dragging his tongue across her nipple. “You don’t want me to do this? Or how about this?” His hand slipped from her breast, trailing down her abdomen and then sliding between her legs. “I suppose you don’t want this either, then?” Long, strong fingers expertly found her clit, pinching and rubbing gently, and her back arched, her body stiffening.

“Please…” she cried, and his hand stilled. She bucked her hips, seeking the sweet friction he was providing, but he would have none of it.

“Please what?” he asked, his green eyes intent on hers. “I can’t read minds, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want.”

“Give me more!” she finally cried, beyond caring. Fuck the consequences. “I need you to touch me, damn you!”

He chuckled, then surprised her by lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

He slid the robe from her shoulders, then gently laid her on the bed before removing his clothes. Her mouth went dry as she caught sight of his beautiful body, fully unveiled in the daylight. He was all hard, lean muscle, not a single ounce of body fat, poured over with bronzed skin and lightly dusted with hair. His cock and testicles hung heavy beneath his thighs, and she swallowed nervously—he was huge. Even Nick, who wasn’t exactly small potatoes, wasn’t that big.

He returned to the bed and pushed her legs apart, bending them at the knees before settling between them. She opened her mouth to ask if he just planned on fucking her to get his rocks off, but then he gripped the backs of her thighs, lifted her hips in the air, and buried his tongue inside her hot, wet pussy.

“Oh, YES!” Roberto smiled as Sherry screamed. He fucked her pussy with his tongue, taking his time and tasting her. He loved the way her juices flowed over his tongue; he’d been wrong, her pussy tasted a thousand times sweeter than her mouth did. He could eat her forever and never get tired of the way she moaned, the way her hips moved as she pressed herself against his face. He found her clit and sucked gently on the bud, and she nearly came off the bed.