Page 61 of The Last Kiss

That’s good. It only leaves the hungry beast inside of me in need of attention.

I almost kick my feet into the sofa with excitement as I hear him pad back towards me. The sound of clothes hitting the floor has me turning around. Smooth, tanned skin is revealed as he drops his shirt and trousers to the floor, the heavy clasp of his belt clanging against the floorboards. My tongue tingles with dryness. He really is here… in my flat, and I think he’s about to do something pretty damn spectacular to me on my own sofa.

Right now, I feel it.

Life.

I can feel what living is. It’s in one moment to the next. One breath that leads to another. One touch, one sigh, one glance, creating a perfect moment that is imprinted forever.

That’s what life is. Moment to moment encapsulated right in that very second. There is no past and there is no future. It’s in the breath, the focus, the intention to just be.

I turn, a heaviness throws itself over us like a warm blanket, offering the ultimate comfort. He doesn’t moan at my breaking of the rules. Instead, he falls silently to his knees dressed only in his boxers, his abs crunching. I’m half-naked on the sofa, something new and unexpected, but all I want is his kiss. It’s a burn, a desire, a question that needs to be met with an answer.

His lips meet mine and I feel something else. Not life. No, that is coursing through me, pumping my poor damaged heart.

No, I feel something else. It’s a tang on the end of my tongue, a four letter word that also begins with L.

And that’s crazy. So damn crazy, because I don’t know anything about this Frenchman knelt by my side like a knight of old at a holy shrine, but I know between us flows something unexpected and unique.

“Henri,” I whisper his name, my lips still grazing his.

“Mmm, ma petite?” Eyes closed, he’s worshiping me, and it smooths across me like a healing spell.

“I think I want you to take me to bed.”

His eyes flicker open and meet mine. Then he nods and stands, lifting me in his arms.

“I haven’t fed you, I’m a terrible host.” Somehow, I’ve wriggled down the bed, my head resting on his ribcage, our feet nudging tit-for-tat under the covers. His fingers are trailing that magical path along my spine.

“Terrible.” Te-ree-bl. He leans down and pecks a kiss on my forehead. “But believe me I’ve eaten.” That cheeky grin with its cheekier dimple comes out to play and I bask in its sun.

“I’ll make us something.” I push my lips into his chest. “In a minute.”

“Tired, Julianna?”

“Yes.” I press my lips together. I’m so damn tired, it’s almost seeping through my bones, but I wouldn’t change it for a moment. This man was made to do that to me, of that I’m pretty sure, and it would be a heathen mistake to waste a moment of it, no matter how tired my limbs feel or how strong the tingling in my fingertips and toes is.

Stupid heart. Pump oxygen like you’re meant to.

“But not that tired,” I add when I’ve left it so long he probably thinks I’ve fallen asleep. I don’t know what they feed them in France, but this man has a stamina I never knew existed.

“This cat weighs a ton, I’m sure.” Henri groans and tries to shift his legs, but Barney has them captured.

I giggle and try to gently kick him off but Barney’s not having it. “He likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“You’ve passed the test.”

“You get to my age and you worry you’ll meet someone and have to win over their children, non. Never did I expect to win over a cat.”

I lift up onto my elbow. “Is that what we are doing? Winning one another over?”

His gaze clouds, but that’s okay, because my heart has just sunk. Whatever this is, and believe me I know it’s epic, it can’t ever truly be anything. I have nothing to promise and nothing to give. Anything less than that would be a travesty for a man as exceptional as this one.

“I don’t know.” He sighs and with his free hand he rubs at his hair.

“It’s okay. I’m not expecting anything, proposals or suchlike. I mean, as I’ve said, we barely know one another.”