Two Nights in Paris

Thunder rolled again, and Henri stared out the window with a frown. “You must hurry before the rain comes. One moment, before you go.” He went behind the counter and came back with a white box. “You will take this with you and enjoy the rest later.” He boxed up the cake and then handed it to Roselle with a flourish.

She gave him a quick hug, and then they were on their way.

Roselle waved at him one last time as she went out the door. “Thanks again.”

“Bon voyage!” He waved at them from the threshold and then closed the door.

They set out on foot since the apartment was nearby.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She held up the box as if Stephan didn’t know she had it.

“Eat it,” he quipped.

“I can’t eat this much cake, though I am tempted.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re not so bad, Stephan.”

He laughed. “I’m terrible, but sometimes I get it right.”

She was starting to wonder if his whole persona was a front. He clearly had a big heart, and he was thoughtful and considerate. The fact that he slept around and had had several brushes with the law was definitely a negative, but he had redeeming qualities. He certainly was not what she expected when he started working at SJ Brands.

“What are you going to miss most about Paris?” Stephan asked as they walked along the cobblestoned street.

“Everything.”

“Come on, you have to be specific.”

I’ll miss spending time with you.

“No, really. Everything. I love the food, I love the old buildings, I love hearing people talk with a French accent, and I like moments like this…walking along the street with cars going by and people strolling past. I feel like I’m in another world.”

“It is a very unique place,” Stephan agreed.

A drop of water plopped onto Roselle’s nose. She wiped it away and looked up. More drops fell from the sky.

“Uh-oh, there’s that rain we suspected was coming.”

The drops fell heavier.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” Stephan grabbed the hand not holding the cake box, and they took off running.

Roselle lifted her eyes skyward and laughed. She was in Paris, running through the streets in the rain, on her birthday, with a handsome man by her side. They arrived at the doorway of the apartment building without getting completely soaked, though her hair and clothes were damp. They sheltered on the stoop, heaving and out of breath.

Roselle stared up at the stormy sky. “The perfect ending to the best birthday ever.”

When her eyes shifted to Stephan, he was staring at her with an intensity that made her heart constrict.

“Glad I was a part of it.” His chest rose and fell with the same frequency as hers.

She swallowed against the lump burgeoning in her throat. “You were the best part of it. Because of you, I’ll never forget today and tonight. Thank you.”

Time stood still as the rain fell around them. Then Stephan stepped slowly toward her, and she didn’t move, remaining locked in place. The air between them noticeably shifted.

He took her chin and tilted her head up to his. “I keep thinking about last night.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

A muscle in his jaw clenched, and with a low groan, he pushed her against the cement and pressed his lips into hers. He didn’t use his tongue. His soft lips hit up against hers over and over again, plucking, teasing, and torturing with a caress that was sensual and intimate.

Much as she’d enjoyed the cake, she wished she didn’t have it in her hand at the moment because it kept her from fully embracing him. Head tilted back, she pressed into him, using her free hand to cup his jaw and savor the sweetness of his chocolate-flavored mouth as he deepened the kiss. Stephan finally sucked in her tongue. She let out a soft moan and shivered against him. His head lowered as he kissed the side of her neck, licking away the water and setting her skin on fire.

“Stephan,” she whispered, her voice a weak fraction of itself.

“Let’s take this inside,” he said in a husky voice.

She nodded her assent. She didn’t care about anything else right now except getting him between her legs.

His hand slid down and squeezed her bottom, long fingers gripping the flesh, possessively kneading and exploring her ass. He kissed her neck and turned her toward the door. Roselle thought he was about to grind against her ass, but instead, he entered the code.

His hand remained on her bottom, and she wondered if he’d forgotten it there. But it seemed to belong, part of her now, the casual hold on her body heightening her awareness of the sexual energy between them and making her wet panties wetter.

Once inside, his hand shifted higher to the small of her back, and he guided her to the elevator. They rode up to the apartment in silence and once inside, placed their items in the refrigerator.

Standing so close behind her that his warm body heated hers, Stephan didn’t waste any time. He kissed her neck and cupped her breasts from behind. Roselle groaned softly and let him guide her to his bedroom.

The subtle smell of him filled the room—the scent of his cologne, the scent of his maleness.

“This is our last night in Paris,” she whispered with a heavy heart.

“Then let’s make it count.”

They stripped out of their clothes and climbed into the bed…

Later—much, much later—when the rain had stopped, and they were both exhausted from another bout of lovemaking, Roselle was gently brought awake by a light flitting across her eyelids.

She and Stephan lay with their heads on the same pillow, his arm thrown across her waist from behind, his soft breaths brushing the back of her neck. And outside, the lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkled against the backdrop of the dark night sky.