Does he?

  I look over my shoulder so I can meet his gaze. “No, you really didn’t.”

  “Yes, I really did,” he mimics.

  “You bought me jewelry from Chanel so I would fit in. So I would look like the fiancée of a wealthy man,” I remind him. “You told your dad that’s what you did.”

  He’s frowning. “I didn’t tell him that.”

  “Yes, you did.” I sit up and maneuver myself so I’m facing him. I can’t have a serious conversation like this when I’m sitting in his lap. “I overheard you tell him that on the phone, when I came to tell you that room service arrived.”

  Realization dawns, I see it in his eyes, and he slowly shakes his head. “I told him that because yeah, it’s true. I bought you jewelry and a bag because I wanted you to look the part. But I wouldn’t have spent that much money on someone I don’t care about. I would’ve bought you the bag and been done with it.”

  “Okay,” I say the word slowly, wondering what he means. Is he saying that he cares about me?

  “You told me Manon made you feel like an idiot,” he says. “I’ve been feeling like an idiot since we arrived in Paris. I didn’t want to tell you how I really felt because you’d say I was crazy.”

  “How do you really feel?” I ask, bracing myself for his answer.

  “I care about you. A lot. More than I should probably, considering we only reconnected a few weeks ago. And the fact that I just broke off my engagement.”

  “Alex, that’s crazy,” I start, but he interrupts me.

  “See? I told you that you’d say that,” he says with a chuckle, and I clamp my lips shut, annoyed that he did. “Look, I just ended my engagement, and we haven’t spent much time together, but sometimes, you just—know.”

  “Know what?”

  “When you’ve met the right person.” He takes my hand and links our fingers together. “And I believe you’re the right person for me.”

  Thirty-Three

  Alex

  My heart feels like it’s going to seize up as I wait for Caroline to say something. Anything. My confession was probably too soon, but I had to get it out there. We’ll leave Paris tomorrow night so I can get some rest on Sunday and be in the office early Monday morning.

  We don’t have much time left here. I needed to tell her how I feel.

  “Are you serious?” she finally says.

  I nod, squeezing her hand. “You’re going to say I’m moving too fast.”

  “You are,” she agrees, but her lips are curled in the faintest smile, and seeing that smile is a sign that maybe this could work out after all.

  “But like I just told you, when you know, you know.” I never said those words to Tiffany. With her, I didn’t know. At all. I merely went along with her plans to keep her happy, and figured if it was happening so easily, we were doing the right thing. Deep down, I knew what we shared wasn’t romantic love.

  It was more like a business merger between two ambitious people.

  If that makes me a callous asshole, then so be it. I just hadn’t met the right woman yet. Or reconnected with the right woman yet.

  Now I have.

  “Is that how you felt about Tiffany? Like you just…knew?” She rolls her eyes and sighs, withdrawing her hand from mine. “I shouldn’t bring her up at a time like this, but I can’t help it. You moved really fast with her, and this feels like a repeat.”

  “I never told her that,” I say vehemently, making Caroline’s eyes widen. “I swear. With Tiffany, it’s…hard to explain what happened.”

  “Please try,” she says, her voice soft. “We’ve talked about her before, but reassure me again that this is totally different. I feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff with nowhere to land.”

  “I’ll catch you,” I say, grabbing both of her hands this time and cradling them in mine. “You can count on me.”

  She just studies me, and I know what she wants.

  “Tiffany came into my life when I thought I needed her. Everything she suggested, I went along with. I was so busy at work, and she never really complained at first, so I thought she would make my life easier. At that time, I figured she would make a perfect corporate wife. I was wrong, and I can admit it. It was why I wouldn’t get her a ring. It was why I tried to rush the wedding, when I knew she wanted to have a big ceremony. Subconsciously, I was trying to sabotage it.”

  “How do I know you won’t try to do the same thing to me?” she whispers. There are tears shining in her eyes, and my heart cracks at the idea of hurting her.

  “You’re already wearing my ring,” I remind her, my thumb streaking across the diamond slowly, back and forth.

  Her hands tremble in my grasp. “That was just for show.”

  “You can keep wearing it.”

  “No, I really can’t,” she says, a sad smile curving her lips as she shakes her head. “What will your family say when they find out about us? They knew what we were doing when you brought me here to Paris.”

  “I don’t care what they say, or what they think. I’ll tell them we reconnected after all these years, and we want to be together,” I say.

  She remains quiet, dipping her head, her hair falling so it covers her face. Panic ripples through me, leaving me ice cold, and I realize that for the first time in years, I’m scared. Terrified.

  I don’t want to lose her. Not now, not when we’re just starting. We could be so good together.

  Can’t she see that?

  “You’ll hurt me,” she finally says. “If I give you this chance, I know you’re going to hurt me in the end.”

  She already believes we’re over when we’ve hardly just begun? Screw that. “Isn’t that what being in a relationship is all about? Taking a chance, knowing all along you might get hurt, but fuck it, you’re going to do it anyway?” I let go of her hand to smooth my fingers over her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear so I can see her pretty face. “I want to take a chance on you, Caroline.”

  She lifts her head, blinking away the lingering moisture in her dark brown eyes. “I want to take a chance on you too, Alex.”

  Relief slams into me hard, and I pull her to me, hugging her close, my fingers buried in her hair, her face pressed against my neck. I pull her away from me so I can cup her face, press my lips to hers. The kiss is simple at first. But our mouths linger. Part. Tongues tangle. Hands start wandering.

  Until she’s laid out on the couch and I’m on top of her, shoving her blazer out of the way as best I can, tunneling my hand beneath her shirt. Her skin is soft, goose bumps dotting her stomach when I touch her there, and I pull away to stare down at her, my breathing as ragged as hers.

  “I was going to take you to dinner,” I tell her. “Not strip you on the couch.”

  She smiles. Her hair is a mess, her lips are swollen and her cheeks are flushed. “Let’s mess around on the couch some more and then you can take me to dinner.”

  Not about to deny her what she wants, I go back in, our mouths connecting, her arms wrapping around my neck. She buries her fingers in my hair, tugging and pulling, holding me in place as we kiss over and over again. She spreads her legs and I push my knee between her thighs, pressing against the very center of her.

  A moan escapes her and she breaks the kiss. “You feel so good,” she whispers.

  “So do you.” I press tiny kisses to her neck, reaching for the blazer that’s half hanging off her arms. “Let’s take this off.”

  I help her get the damn jacket off and then I’m pulling her shirt off too, until she’s left in a pretty pale pink bra trimmed with cream-colored lace. I trace where the lace lays against her skin with my index finger, making her shiver, more goose bumps rising, and she reaches for me her hands brushing against my stomach. Fumbling, eager fingers undo the buttons on my shirt before she spreads the fabric wide, her palms sliding down my bare chest.

  We’re probably moving too fast, but fuck it. I don’t care. I’m running on pure want right now. I’ve wanted her since I saw her in the coffee shop weeks ago, before I really knew it was her. Once I saw her again in Noteworthy with Tiffany and put two and two together, I’d been hit with the need to see her more. Talk to her more.

  Be with her more.

  And now she’s here. With me. She’s trying to shove my shirt down my arms as I toy with the front clasp of her bra with my fingers. Her little whimpers of frustration tell me she’s having a difficult time, so I rise up on my knees, shed the shirt and let it fall to the floor.

  “You have such a beautiful chest,” she says with reverence as her fingers skim along my stomach. The muscles contract from her teasing touch and I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I get even harder. “I’ve been dying to touch you like this since last night.”

  Amusement fills me remembering her overreaction. “When you covered your eyes and acted like I was some sort of freak?”

  “I covered my eyes because I was afraid if I stared at you too long, I might’ve done something risky.” She smiles. “Like jump you.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded.” I dip my head and kiss the delicate skin just behind her ear, breathing in her sweet scent.

  Caroline releases a shaky breath when my lips are on her earlobe. “You probably would’ve encouraged me.”

  “You’re right.” I press more kisses to her smooth neck, my tongue darting out to lick. She inhales sharply, angling her head so I can get even closer. Kiss her even more.

  “Are we really going to do this on the couch?” she asks a few minutes later, when my fingers are back at the center of her bra, rubbing against the front clasp.

  “Do what?” I undo the clasp, the bra springing apart, the cups barely covering her breasts. I pause for a moment, examining the feminine curves, wondering what color her nipples are.

  “Have sex.”

  With the back of my hand, I carefully brush away the cups, one at a time, so her breasts are on full display. Her nipples are a dark rose, the hard little peaks tempting me. “Not yet,” I say right before I dip my head and draw a nipple into my mouth.

  Her hands are in my hair again, holding me close as I lick and suck on first one nipple, then the other. I can feel her grinding against my knee, her breathing accelerated, and I realize she’s trying to get herself off.

  Hot.

  “You want me to take these off?” I curl my fingers around the front of her jeans and give them a tug, my knuckles brushing against her flesh.

  “No, no.” She shakes her head and I lift away from her so I can study her face. She opens her eyes, and they’re glassy with want. “Keep them on.”

  I’m frowning. “You sure?”

  She nods. Gulps. “The, ah, seam of my jeans is hitting your knee just right.”

  Okay. That’s fucking hot.

  “Really?” I push my knee in deeper between her thighs and she closes her eyes, a little moan falling from her lips. “Is it rubbing against your clit?”

  Another nod. Another loud gulp. She parts her lips, her eyes still closed, a deep pink flush on her chest and cheeks as I maneuver my knee up, and then down, always pressing against that seam, never letting up on it. “Oh God,” she chokes out.

  I kiss her, unable to control myself as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. My hands are on her breasts, my fingers pinching her nipples as she continues to grind against me. A full-body shudder moves through her. Then another. And another. She breaks the kiss, whimpering my name as her orgasm sweeps over her.

  She writhes beneath me, my knee keeping her pinned in place, and I watch her, enthralled with the way she moves, the unintelligible things she says. Hell, how she breathes, panting heavily as a faint cry leaves her. There’s no holding back. No fake performance happening.

  She’s just being her in the throes of coming, letting loose completely.

  Just seeing her like this, at her most vulnerable, fills me with an unfamiliar emotion. I rub my hand against my aching chest, completely ignoring the fact that I have a raging hard-on and I’m dying to get inside her.

  All I can think about, focus on, is her. Her beauty and her sweetness and her “take me as I am” personality. There’s no bullshit with her.

  And I love that.

  Caroline opens her eyes and smiles, her dark brown gaze full of satisfaction. “Wow,” she whispers.

  Wow is a fucking understatement for what I’m currently feeling.

  Thirty-Four

  Caroline

  “I don’t know why I’m so hungry.” I’m shoveling food into my mouth as fast as possible, my appetite gnawing at me full force. I already had two pieces of bread covered in thick butter, drank a very full glass of wine and ate more than my share of the chicken spring rolls we ordered as an appetizer.

  “I know why you’re hungry,” Alex tells me with a knowing smile.

  We’re sitting next to each other at the table. On the same side. Yes, we’ve become that couple in a short amount of time, and I should be irritated with myself. I used to make fun of people like that, but right now, I don’t care. I want him right next to me so I can dab at the corner of his mouth to rid him of a bread crumb and he can rest a possessive hand on the inside of my thigh. I’m wearing a thin floral printed dress—yes, I did that on purpose so he could slip a hand under my skirt—and I love the way his big warm hand feels against my skin.

  We’re at the Café Marly, a beautiful outdoor restaurant close to the Louvre. So close, we can see the pyramid, the setting sun reflecting off the glass. It’s a gorgeous view, a gorgeous restaurant, and I am currently so freaking happy, I’m tempted to rise to my feet and let everyone know by making a grand announcement.

  But I restrain myself. Again, because I have a little bit of class. Just enough to keep me in check.

  “Why am I so hungry?” Should I grab another piece of bread out of the basket? Probably not.

  He leans in close, his mouth at my ear. “Orgasms increase your appetite.”

  “Oh really?” I wrinkle my nose, but not in disgust. Uh uh, I’m not disgusted by orgasm talk. No way. I’m currently cruising on the Bliss Train, thanks to Alex and his magical knee. Imagine what his hands or his mouth might do. “Maybe.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” He reaches for a piece of bread, taking the knife I didn’t realize I was clutching so he can get some butter.

  I shove at his shoulder, and he laughs. “Are you trying to make me feel bad because you didn’t have one?”

  “Just teasing you.” He kisses my forehead and it’s the sweetest gesture. I almost want to cry.

  But of course I don’t. I’m hungry and I’m a little buzzed from the delicious wine. When the server brings us our meal—steak with béarnaise sauce for Alex, grilled sea bass for me along with mashed potatoes for us to share—we eat so fast I practically give myself a stomachache, but it’s worth it.

  We laugh and talk the entire meal, Alex letting me know about halfway through that we’re leaving Paris late tomorrow night. I’m disappointed, and I can’t hide it. But he says he can’t stay much longer, and since the meeting went so well and the contracts were all signed, he should get home. He needs to get back to work, and I probably do too.

  “We’ll be tourists tomorrow,” he tells me after we’ve finished our dinner. It’s fully dark now, the dim lighting in the restaurant making the atmosphere wonderfully romantic, and I’m hanging all over his side, not caring if anyone is watching us. “Whatever you want to see, we’ll go. The Eiffel Tower. The Louvre. You have to see the Mona Lisa.”

  “I want to walk along the Champs-Elysees,” I tell him, practically bouncing in my seat. “And see the Arc de Triomphe.”

  “Done.” He kisses me, a lingering touch of his lips, and my blood runs hot at the meaning behind it. We’ve been playing a little who wants each other more game the entire evening. “We should go soon.”

  “You don’t want to get dessert?” I mock pout, because I’m always down for dessert.

  “You’ll be my dessert.” He strokes my jaw with his fingertips and I forget all about chocolate and apple tartlets.

  All I want is him.

  After Alex pays for the meal, we walk back to the hotel holding hands the entire way. It’s cold, I’m glad I brought the blazer I wore earlier today so it keeps me warm. Alex is in jeans and a dark gray pullover sweater, and he looks so incredibly handsome.

  When does he not look handsome?

  I am still giddy over the conversation we had earlier. He said he cares for me, and I believe him. He said he never felt that way about Tiffany—and I believe that too. Besides the words he said, his actions tell me he cares as well.

  And instead of questioning him endlessly and living with self-doubt, I’m throwing myself into this relationship full force. It actually was a true eye-opener, spending time with Manon today. She helped me realize I don’t need a man to be happy. Yet it’s perfectly wonderful to accept that man into your life and increase your happiness because of him.

  By the time we make it back to our suite, it’s late, nearly eleven. I’m tired from the food and the wine, but not so tired that I can’t wrap myself around Alex the moment he closes the door.

  He presses me against the door, his mouth devouring mine, our hands everywhere at once. His are under my skirt, skimming the outside of my thighs. Mine are in his hair, across his shoulders, down his chest. He’s so warm and solid. A far cry from the young boy he was when he was fourteen, lanky with the long limbs, yet not very tall.

  The boy I knew back then is still within him. Sweet and thoughtful, charming Alex. My crush on him now is even bigger than it was when I was twelve.

  Lucky, lucky me.

  I break the kiss first, pushing him so he hits the wall, his eyes opening in stunned surprise. I shove his sweater up, revealing his chest, and I lean into him, pressing a kiss there, right at the center of his frantically beating heart. His musky, spicy scent intoxicating. Arousing. Tempting. I want to kiss more bared skin.