Frenched Series Bundle (28 page)

I had no doubt that Lucas
had
meant the things he said to her, just like he meant what was saying to me now. He wasn’t a liar; it was just that his feelings had changed. Did that make things better or worse?

His feelings could change again. I knew it. He knew it. Wasn’t that, in fact, why he refused to commit beyond long distance dating? Because he was uncertain about how he’d feel in the future?

My body began to shake again, but this time it wasn’t anger rattling my bones.

It was fear.

“Oh, honey.” Lucas’s voice was gravelly but tender. His hands rubbed my back. “I love you. I don’t love anyone else. And I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel about you.”

My chin quivered. “You probably said that to her once.”

Lowering his lips to my shoulder, he rocked me gently side to side. “You know me. I don’t dwell on the past, and I don’t obsess over the future. I honestly don’t remember saying that to her, because I can’t remember what it feels like to love anyone but you. From the day we met, thoughts of you have consumed me. And the more I have of you, the more I want—it’s like I’ll never get enough.”

God, why did he have to say those things? Did he know what they did to me? “Do you really want more of me?”

“Of course I do.” He lifted his head and took my face in his hands. “I want all of you.”

Do it. Say it. Ask him.

A chorus of voices in my head urged me to do what I’d come here to do, but I couldn’t. I was too afraid—afraid of hearing no, afraid of hearing he didn’t love me enough, afraid of being forced to walk out of his life to preserve my dignity. And my dream.

“What’s going on in there?” Lucas tilted my head from side to side.

I closed my eyes, unable to say anything.

“Poor baby. Tonight’s been too much for you. I’m sorry.”

I tried to smile, although my heart was splintering.
This isn’t going to work. I can’t go on like this.
“I think you’re right. It’s been…a rough night.”

He embraced me again, rocking me back and forth as I fought another deluge of tears. “She’s out of my apartment after this weekend, I promise. I’ll text her I want her gone by Sunday night, OK?”

It doesn’t matter.
“OK.”

“Tell you what. I’m hungry. Let’s order a bunch of room service, a bottle of wine, and watch a movie. I’ll make sure to get something with bacon, and I’ll even let you choose what we watch. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” I said into his shoulder, resisting the urge to pummel my fists on his chest. I twined my arms around his waist instead, and we held each other close without saying a word.
Why, why, why can’t things be different?

“And then I’m going to devote the rest of the night to making sure you know exactly how much I love you.” He kissed my temple. “How much I need you.” My cheek. “How much I want you.” My lips. “And if you don’t have at least three orgasms in the process, I’ll have to start all over again tomorrow.” He paused. “Actually that’s my plan for tomorrow as well.”

Goddamn it. “That sounds perfect too.”

Totally fucking perfect.

How would I ever find the strength to walk away?

5 Things That Are Amazing

Even When You’re Sad

1) Room Service—especially juicy bacon cheeseburgers served next to a mound of thick, crispy French fries.

2) A bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape drunk with a gorgeous French man in a luxury hotel room. Or any kind of room. Or any kind of wine, really.

3) A foot massage from said French man while you’re waiting for room service to arrive, one during which he kisses the soles of your feet and swears even your toes turn him on.

4) Getting to choose the movie and discovering that Crazy Stupid Love is on.

5) Sex with Lucas. (And yes, there were three.)

I’d like to say that I thought twice about having sex, but the truth is, after a bottle of wine, a foot massage, and a dose of Ryan Gosling without a shirt on, to say I was in the mood would be an understatement. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized that a night of fantastic sex was
not
on the list of things that would help me find the wherewithal to end things with Lucas if I had to, but when he offered to give me a full body massage with his tongue, whatever fuck I might have given about wherewithal went au revoir.

(Bonjour, orgasm number one.)

After the massage, we ended up over by the windows, and I found myself looking out over Midtown Manhattan at two AM, bent forward at the waist, my hot hands on the cold glass as Lucas whispered delightfully dirty things in my ear about the possibility of being watched while he fucked me.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, to be seen like this,” he said between slow thrusts of his hips. “With my cock pushing into you. With your legs spread and your mouth open and your nipples hard. You want everyone to see how fucking beautiful you are when I make you come.”

My mouth
was
open. I was shocked at how it thrilled and scandalized me—both his words and the idea. Part of me wanted to back away from the window rather than put my body on display in its most heightened and vulnerable state. But another part liked being framed anonymously in that darkened eighth story window, revealing everything about myself that was shameless and impulsive and passionate, allowing other eyes to see me the way Lucas did.

How many pairs of eyes watched orgasm number two? I have no idea.

But I liked it.

Eventually we fell into bed, slid naked beneath the covers and curled up together. Lucas’s left hand captured mine, and he placed them between my breasts, fingers laced. His back and torso and legs cocooned mine, his face was buried in my hair, and I should have felt safe and warm and content.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything—the failure to convince him we should make a more lasting commitment, the entire debacle with Jessica, the fear that I couldn’t handle going on like this…
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
My stomach muscles tightened up in a conscious effort to trap all the regret and frustration threatening to escape. I imagined my ribs as an actual cage trying to confine my sad, swollen heart. But just as quickly, I pictured love and sorrow oozing between the bars, overcoming any resistance my body attempted.

Because I adored this man, and he adored me.

I knew it, I saw it, I felt it.

Maybe we weren’t supposed to meet, or maybe we were—I got lightheaded wondering about the orchestrations of fate and the role of chance. But the truth was, we found each other in a city of millions, and our chemistry was irrefutable. We were different, sure, but so far those differences had complemented each other. I’d eased up on planning every detail of my life, I’d stopped torturing myself over being married by age thirty, and Lucas had learned the value in making the occasional dinner reservation. Buying tickets in advance. Grocery lists.

And the sex. The SEX.

Never in a million years had I imagined myself the kind of girl who’d like being spanked, tied up, or fucked in front of a hotel room window. Lucas had shown me the dizzying joy in being sexually uninhibited and allowing him to indulge his fantasies with me. I might be a good girl—most of the time—but I had a naughty side where Lucas was concerned, and it made me feel alive and sexy and beautiful. I was the fullest, the most vibrant version of myself with him, and I didn’t want to give that up. Not ever.

Not even for a family?

I gulped back tears again. What did I want more—Lucas or a family? What if he said anything was possible but never changed his mind? What if I threw away my chance to have what I’d always wanted?

If I wanted to be with him, that was the risk.

But if this isn’t worth fighting for, what is?

The sadness pushing up inside me retreated, reforming itself into determination. I clasped his hand tighter to my chest. If I failed to make Lucas see that what we had was the real thing and deserved a stronger commitment, then so be it. But I wasn’t going back to Detroit without telling him I was willing to do whatever it took to make us both happy, whether it was my moving to New York, asking him to move to Detroit, or suggesting we both move somewhere new. I didn’t even care if we maintained separate apartments there. I just wanted more of him, more of us.

And if he said no, or if we tried it and one or both of us was unhappy, then at least we would go our separate ways knowing it wasn’t the distance that prevented us from making it work. Nor would it be unwillingness on either side to do something that made us uncomfortable—his having to make a promise about the near future or my having to put off the chance of having a husband or children for a few more years. If Lucas didn’t see himself with a family down the road after this next phase and it was still something I wanted, I’d move on knowing it was the right decision.

Lucas’s deep, even breaths told me he was asleep—resting up for round three, no doubt—and now that I’d made my decision to say what I’d come here to say, I felt sleepy too. Closing my eyes, I matched the rhythm of my breathing to his and snuggled even closer to his warm body. I brought his hand to my lips. A serenity I hadn’t felt for a long time washed over me, and I hoped he felt it too. I like to think it meant our hearts were content, beating so close to one another.

#

I awoke to a sensation that felt like butterfly wings tickling my arm. My eyes opened, and for a moment, I was confused about my surroundings. With the curtains open, the room was suffused with grayish light, and I blinked at the high-backed chair in the corner, the desk, the dresser.

Oh, right. Hotel room. And Lucas.

He brushed his fingers slowly up and down my forearm again and spoke in a whisper. “Mia? Are you awake?”

“Yes.” My voice was scratchy.

“I still can’t believe you’re here. I thought you might be a dream lying next to me. Or a ghost.”

That made me smile. “Haunting you with my naked body?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He swallowed. “Can we talk?”

I turned onto my back. Lucas had his head propped on his right hand, and even in the semi-darkness I could see his expression was serious. “Sure. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I was just lying here watching you sleep, and I—” He cleared his throat. “You’re so beautiful. I started getting hard just looking at you, and I was torn between wanting to wake you up for sex and letting you sleep so I could stare at you without apology and take in every detail—the smell of your hair, the shape of your mouth, the sound of your breathing, the rise of your chest…”

“God, I hope I wasn’t drooling or anything.” Quickly I touched my lips just to make sure. How disconcerting to be studied so closely when you’re unaware you’re being watched. But I was flattered too—I’d done the same. Lucas was beautiful when he slept.

“No, no.” His lips tipped up slightly, just for a second. “You’re perfect in my eyes. And everything about you, every physical detail I noticed, reminded me of something.”

“Like what?”

“Your hair reminded me of our first day together in Paris. I loved it from the moment I saw you, and then at one point when we were walking through the cemetery, I grabbed you from behind and got this big whiff of it. And I thought,
How the fuck is it possible her hair smells like the beach?
”

My smile deepened. “One of my secrets. I can’t tell.”

“And your skin—I’ll never forget the first time you undressed at my apartment. I’d been trying not to picture you naked all day because I felt so guilty, but then there you were, and you
wanted
me to touch you.”

My insides were melting like butter in a hot pan. “Yes, I wanted you to. I’d been wanting your hands on me all night. All day, practically.” Turning onto my left side in order to face him, I placed a palm on his warm stomach and ran it up his chest. Slipped one of my legs between his.

“It was unbelievable, the feel of your skin next to mine. It still is.” Lucas trailed his hand from my shoulder down my back and over my hip, sending a shiver through my entire body. “And the first time I tasted you. Jesus.”

I smiled. “You made me scream so loud. Remember?”

“I love making you scream.”

I slid my hand to his back to pull myself closer to him. His erection pressed into my thigh and I felt a rush of longing swoosh up my center.

“And your mouth,” he whispered, bringing his hand to my jaw. “I remembered that time in my apartment, after the museum, when you fell to your knees and put my cock in your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat.” He kissed me softly, his tongue easing between my lips. I stroked it with mine, moving my hand between our legs and sheathing his hard length with my fingers. His body shuddered, and his cock grew thicker as he rocked his hips into my hand.

“Let me do it again.” I began sliding down his chest, planting a row of kisses from his collarbone to one stiff nipple, which I teased with the tip of my tongue. “I’ve been wanting to.”

But he grabbed my shoulders. “No, wait. I need to say this.”

Surprised, I paused what I was doing and looked up at him. “Say what?”

“That as I was lying here watching you sleep, cataloging every detail about you that I love and remembering all these amazing moments and thanking God that you were here tonight, I realized something. And it hit me like a bullet to the chest.”

“What?” My own chest had some kind of thunderstorm building inside it.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

My heart ceased beating altogether. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I want to be with you all the time like this. Every day. Every night. And I’m an asshole to let my fears stop us from being together.”

“So…wait.” Shaking my head, I got to my knees and sat back on my heels. Was he doing my work for me? Was this what I thought it might be? It seemed like too much to hope for. “What exactly are you saying?”

He sat up and took my hands. “I’m saying what you said yesterday. I want more. I love you and I miss you every day. I lied when I said I was happy with the way things are—I’m not. I want more; I’m just scared.”

I felt like jumping up and down on the bed, but reined in my excitement.
Proceed with caution. You don’t know what he wants yet.
“How much more?”

He hesitated, the question suspended in the air between us, and I almost asked it again before he answered. “Stay with me. Live with me.”

OK, fuck caution.

“Yes!” I shouted, throwing my arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!” Swaying from side to side, I breathed in the scent of his skin.
Oh my God, I’ll have this around me all the time.
“Yes.”

Laughing, Lucas wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close.

“Sorry. I can’t seem to think of any other word.”

He squeezed me. “It’s OK. I always love to hear you say yes.”

Breathless, I sat back on my heels again and took his hands. “You said you’re scared. What are you scared of?”

“Lots of things. For one, I’m scared of marriage. You know that. I saw what it did to my dad when my mom left. And words like forever, eternity, till death do us part…” He shook his head. “Are they realistic? I mean, maybe they are, I don’t know. Right now it feels like we’ll be in love forever, and I hope we are, but marriage scares the shit out of me. I’ve seen it ruin solid relationships. That’s why I’ve always been up front about my position. You say you’re OK with it, but what if you change your mind and leave me for someone who wants that piece of paper?”

I dropped his hands. “Don’t compare me to Jessica.”

“I’m not, Mia—I swear, I’m not.” He picked them up again, stroking my wrists with his thumbs. “Listen. You’re so different. You scare me way more than she ever did. When she left, I felt bad, but never once did I think I wouldn’t meet someone else, someone I’d love more. Someone who gets me the way you do, who loves me like you do. Someone who lets me love her the way I want to—all the ways I want to.”

Whoosh.

Heat flashed through me thinking about all his ways. Damn I loved his ways.

“I think that’s what makes taking the next step so hard for me—it’s not that I don’t love you enough to make a bigger commitment. It’s that I’m afraid I won’t measure up, you’ll find someone who does, and I’ll never find anyone as amazing as you.”