French Kissing (29 page)

‘It took me a little longer,' Caitlin said, ‘but before the end of my holiday, I was smitten.'

‘So what happened after you went back to England?' I asked Caitlin. ‘Did Guillaume visit you? Did you write letters to each other?'

‘I never went back to England,' Caitlin said.

‘
Never
? Not even once?'

‘I had no reason to go back. My brother and his family, my only living relatives, had emigrated to New Zealand the year before. My few close English friends, girls I'd known from school and college, were scattered all around the country. When Guillaume asked me to stay with him in France, it wasn't a hard decision to make. I soon made friends here and found myself a job. Paris very quickly became my home.'

‘It was a brave thing to do all the same,' Guillaume said. ‘At the time I didn't realise quite how much I was asking of you,
ma chérie
.'

Caitlin smiled. ‘It was crazy, but we were both very young.'

I wanted to ask Caitlin more about her early days in France, but the conversation moved on, talk about work, gossip about friends, the sort of discussions close families have around a kitchen table. I looked at Alex's mother, with her husband and adult children, and tried to imagine how it must have been for her as a young woman, starting a new life in a new country, with a man she'd only just met. It struck me that if I ever wanted to experience living and working abroad, now while I was still young, would be the time to do it. If I did decide to move on from Nova Graphics, maybe I could get a job in Paris, just as Alex had done in London. Not that I wouldn't miss my friends and family in England, but going back and forth across the Channel was a lot simpler now than when Alex's parents were my age. For the first time in years, I found myself remembering how after I'd graduated, I'd tried to get a job in an art gallery – without success. I thought of all the small galleries I'd seen this afternoon in the Marais and wondered if any of them were looking to take on an assistant …

Alex's voice broke in on the half-formed thoughts tumbling around my head. ‘We're catching an early morning train tomorrow, and neither of us has packed. We should be getting back to my place – if you're ready, Anna?'

‘I'd love to stay longer,' I said, ‘but you're right – we do have to get up early tomorrow.'

With many hugs and promises that I'd come and see them the next time I was in Paris (and promises that they'd come and see me if they ever came to London), Alex and I said goodbye to his relatives. Caitlin accompanied us to the front door, giving me an extra hug, telling me once again that she was delighted to have met me at last. She stood watching Alex and I from the open doorway until we were inside the lift.

‘I do like your family,' I said, as we walked to the Metro. ‘They all made me feel so welcome.' Unlike Mrs Cooper. I had a sudden vision of Nick's mother standing in front of
Anna Awakening
. Somehow, I doubted that she would appreciate its artistic merits. I spared a thought for Nick, wishing him well, hoping that he was over me, and that he'd soon meet someone who would make him happy.

Alex said, ‘My family like you. While Élodie was showing you her toys, your complete and utter wondrousness was all my parents talked about. I did point out that it was me, the
award-winning
photographer, who should be getting all the praise and attention, but they told me not to be so up myself, and that I was very lucky to have you as a friend. Which is true enough.'

I laughed. ‘They're all very proud of you – as you well know.'

‘Yes, they are.'

‘As am I,' I said. ‘I'm
so
proud of you, Alex.'

Alex's eyes shone. ‘It was a good night, wasn't it?'

‘It couldn't have been better.'

‘I think it's only now that it's all sinking in.'

Suddenly, he pulled me to him, and danced me around and around, and along the pavement. Despite my protests, he didn't let me go until we'd reached we reached the old iron
Metropolitain
sign that marked the entrance to the station. Laughing, hand in hand, we ran down the steps onto the brightly lit platform of
ligne
12 that would take us back to Montmartre.

Thirty-two

We came up out of the Metro into the Place des Abbesses – just as we had on my first night in Paris. I looked round the pretty square, golden light spilling out of its cafés and bars, and thought how familiar it seemed, even after just four days. Alex, declaring that although we did need to pack, there was no reason why we shouldn't have another drink while we were doing it, went into a bar and re-appeared carrying a bottle of champagne. Once we were away from the square, he opened it, the cork flying very satisfactorily through the air. We walked through the winding streets of Montmartre, passing the bottle back and forth between us. I looked up at the stars and the full moon overhead, and I'd never felt more alive.

We arrived at Alex's building and he unlocked the communal front door. Inside, the courtyard was dark and silent. We picked our way through the shadows, both of us warning the other not to make too much noise, smothering our laughter.

‘Wait, Alex,' I said, when we came to the staircase. ‘I need to take off my heels or I'll never make it up all those steps.'

‘I could carry you up,' Alex said. ‘At least – I could try.'

‘Or maybe not.'

‘I'll have you know, I'm an award-winning photographer. There are very few things I can't do.'

‘But carrying your model up five flights of stairs is likely to be one of them.' I sat on the stairs and took off my ankle boots. Alex hauled me to my feet, and I straggled after him up the staircase, collapsing breathlessly against the wall when we reached the top.

‘What you need is more champagne,' he said, opening the door to his apartment.

‘Oh, yes, more champagne is definitely required.' I went into the living area, tossing my boots on the floor, and my jacket over the back of a chair. Alex poured the last of the champagne into two glasses, and handed one to me. He opened the French windows and the shutters, and then he switched off the lamp, so that the room was flooded with silver moonlight. I went and stood beside him, and we gazed out over Paris. A cool breeze stirred my hair and the skirt of my white dress. I sipped my champagne. In the distance, I saw the glitter of the Eiffel Tower. Alex draped his arm around me, his fingers warm on my bare shoulder. Then his hand moved to the back of my neck, and slowly down my spine, and it was as though his fingers left a trail of flame. It was not the touch of a friend.

My heart racing, scarcely daring to believe what had just happened, I turned to look at him. He was staring at me, his eyes black in the moonlight. He took the empty champagne glass from my hand and put it on the dining table. Then he reached up and brushed a strand of hair back from my face. Suddenly I was finding it hard to breathe.

‘Tonight would have meant nothing to me if you hadn't been there to share it,' he said.

He rested both his hands on my waist, drawing me close, so that I could feel his heart beating against mine. He bent his head so that our faces were almost touching, and I knew that whatever happened now, everything between us, what we were to each other, had changed for ever.

‘Anna,' he said, ‘Oh, Anna –' And then he kissed me.

At first it was just a brush of his lips, a butterfly's wing, a soft caress that melted my insides. Then it was demanding, and fierce, as he crushed me to him, enfolding me in his strong arms, exploring my mouth with his tongue. My senses reeled, and if he hadn't been holding me, my legs would have given way. When he lifted his head from mine, we staggered apart, both of us wide-eyed and breathing hard.

I said, ‘Y-You kissed me.'

‘I want you, Anna.' His voice was hoarse.

I looked at him standing there, this tall, strong, handsome man who I knew so well, and I wanted him. All the reasons I'd given myself for not doing this no longer seemed important. Or if they were, I simply didn't care. The taste of him was in my mouth. Desire, hot and insistent, was spreading like wildfire through my body.

Alex had kissed me.

He stepped towards me, and then he was kissing me again, and I was kissing him back, my arms about his neck, my hands in his hair, his hips pressed against me so I could feel that he was hard. He started unbuttoning the front of my dress, and in his haste, several pearl buttons went flying off and across the room. At that precise moment, I really didn't care. The dress fell to the floor. Our mouths still locked together, I unhooked my bra, and my stomach lurched as his hand cupped my breast. Then he was tearing off his shirt, and I was frenziedly undoing his belt, fumbling with the stiff leather, unzipping his trousers, tugging them and his boxers down over his rear, flinging away my thong, both of us naked, as we fell onto the bed. I clung to him, gasping as he kissed my throat, writhing with pleasure at the touch of his lips and tongue on my breasts. His mouth sought mine again, and he kissed me hungrily, his hand between my legs, and then he rolled away from me, and I heard the sound of tearing foil.

He turned back to me, his hands parting my thighs so that he could lay his body along mine, taking his weight on his elbows. And then he was inside me, his body rising and falling above me, and the sensations coursing through me were so deliciously intense that I moaned aloud. I locked my legs around his hips, and he thrust himself deeper, again and again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I was light-headed now, waves of pleasure surging and receding, as he moved within me, as we moved together, my head thrown back as he took me to the height of passion, feeling his body grow taut and then shudder, as he found his own ecstasy.

Slowly, I came back to myself, smiling up at Alex, as he lay on me, our bodies still joined. He smiled also, and kissed me lightly on my mouth.

‘This has to be one of the best nights of my life,' he said.

‘And mine.' I felt him slide out of me. He kissed me again, and then eased himself onto the bed beside me, pulling the duvet over both of us. He gathered me in his arms, and with my head on his chest, we fell asleep.

When I woke up, early morning sunlight was streaming in through the open shutters. Alex was still sleeping. I lay next to him, watching him, inhaling the scent of his skin, warmed by the heat of his body. Very gently, I brushed his hair off his forehead. Then I traced the line of his jaw, shadowed now with dark stubble. I touched his mouth and then my mouth, where he'd kissed me. Suddenly, I felt such a rush of affection for him that it left me dizzy and breathless.

I loved him.

My heart started pounding. I sat up, hugging my knees. Alex stirred, but didn't wake. I gazed at him, the beautiful man asleep beside me, and knew that I'd fallen in love with my male friend. I thought of all the times over the past few weeks when I'd longed for his kiss. My head whirled as I realised I'd been in love with him even before we came to Paris.

Then the thought came to me that while my feelings towards him had changed, I'd no idea how he felt about me. Last night had been incredible, but I wasn't so naive as to believe that our sharing one night of passion meant that he'd want us to have an on-going relationship.

I whispered, ‘I love you, Alex. I so want you to love me.'

I lay down again, my head next to his on the pillow. He shifted onto his side, and his eyes flickered open. When he saw me, his smile lit up his whole face.

‘
Bonjour
,' I said.

‘
Bonjour
.' He kissed me very gently, on my forehead, on my eyelids, and on my lips and the hollow in my throat. Slowly, he lifted back the duvet so that we were lying together on top of the sheet, naked in the sunlight. I stretched, raising my arms above my head, luxuriating in his appreciative smile.

‘You are so beautiful,' he said, stroking my face, trailing a finger between my breasts and along my side. He kissed my shoulder, and my neck. I moaned and sighed, and he moved leisurely down my body, his hand softly caressing me as he kissed my breasts and my stomach, sending delectable shivers across my bare skin. Then his mouth was on mine again, a long deep kiss, our tongues entwined, his arms holding me close, my breasts pressed against his hard, unyielding torso. When we broke apart, I slid my hand between us, running the tip of a finger along the length of his erection. He groaned and then smiled, twisting away from me to get a condom out of the nightstand.

I lay on my back, and he knelt between my thighs, lowering his body until he was poised above me. He kissed me softly, tenderly, and then he reached down and guided himself into me, smooth and slow, moving rhythmically, gliding in and out and in, looking down at me with half-shut eyes. I raised my hips to meet his, exquisite heat growing within me, my blood singing, my body quivering, Alex whispering my name, as we lost ourselves in each other.

Afterwards, he rolled off me and stretched out beside me, one arm behind his head. I turned to face him, drinking him in, my body languid from his caresses, a pleasurable ache between my legs.

He said, ‘How did I sleep in the same bed with you for three nights without touching you?'

‘Did you … want me before last night?'

‘I'm only human, Anna.'

I willed him to say more, to give me some sign that he thought of me as more than a friend he'd had sex with one night in Paris, to kiss me again and tell me that he loved me. Instead, to my disappointment, he sat up, swung his legs off the bed, and sprang to his feet.

Looking at me over his shoulder, he said, ‘Don't go back to sleep. We have to catch the Eurostar – and we haven't packed.' He headed off to the bathroom. A moment later, I heard the sound of the shower.

I got out of bed and went to the open window, relishing the warmth of the sun on my skin. The sky was cloudless, and the city shimmered in a haze of heat. I gazed out over the rooftops, and thought, What happens to us now, Alex? I was still staring at the view, when he came back into the living area, naked, towelling his hair. At the sight of him, my heart soared, brimming over with love.