The bedlinens rustle, one muscled shoulder and arm revealed. ‘Venez ici.’
I find myself moving across the room, unsure what it is in his tone that draws me to him.
‘What is it?’ The floor is cool under my bare feet, but the rest of my body is burning as Remy reaches out and takes my hand in his much larger one. I know I should pull away, maybe offer him the water and pills? I know I shouldn’t be standing here gazing at him like he’s a pastry just waiting to be nibbled. But he just looks so tempting. So inviting. Is he looking at me like I’m looking at him? Like he could do with a little comfort, a little company? It strikes me that he and I, we’re alike. Life has treated us harshly, dealt us a rough hand. And maybe we could both benefit from this moment, a human moment of reassurance and faith.
‘Vienz . . .’ His free hand pats the mattress heavily. ‘Come lie with me. I promise your virtue is safe.’
He tugs on my hand as he moves across the bed, making room. I don’t put up much of a fight, crawling in as he pulls back the duvet a little.
‘C’est bon . . . That’s good. Don’t worry, despite my big words, I find I can barely lift an eyebrow. Don’t tell. It’s a secret. I don’t want to ruin the image of Frenchmen everywhere.’
His murmurs are comforting as I settle myself on the pillow with my back to him. And it seems like the most natural thing in the world as his arm wraps around my waist.
‘This is nice,’ I whisper, resting my arm across his as he pulls me closer still. ‘We all need a little hug sometimes.’
‘Et parfois . . . And sometimes we need a little more.’
At that moment, I make another discovery. His underwear is neither in the machine nor on him.
‘Peut-être le matin . . . Maybe in the morning. Sleep well, Rose.’
6
Rose
You’d think I’d have moved vite!
Quickly!
That I’d have jumped out of that bed like a ninja once I realised the man next to me was naked. Not only naked but sporting a little action in his non-existent pants.
Yep, the man had a little wood. A little action in the baguette department.
And oh, I planned on it. I planned on laying very still, maybe allowing myself just a tiny snuggle into my Remy scented pillow, at least until he’d fallen asleep when I’d creep out of the bed, removing myself to the sofa. I planned on it, just as I planned on waking him up every couple of hours to make sure he didn’t die from a brain haemorrhage or slip into a concussion-induced coma.
I planned, but I failed.
I mean, not entirely. He’s not dead. But he is up.
Let me clarify. He’s not out of bed. He’s just up.
And hard. And pressed against me as his mouth plays some sort of enchantment against the soft skin behind my ear.
‘Bonjour, Rose.’
If I could bottle his voice, I’d be able to sell it as an aphrodisiac.
‘M-morning.’ I release a long, shuddering breath, absorbing the feel of him. The softness of his lips is contrasted by the delicious friction of the hair on his thighs behind mine.
‘Aves-vous rêvé demoi? . . . Did you dream of me?’
I exhale a breathy sigh, fighting hard to retain my senses. As if his deep voice and accent weren’t hard enough to resist, his touch is nothing short of unravelling.
‘J’ai fait . . . I did. I dreamt I was inside you. Tell me I can make my dream real.’
‘Yes.’ Yes to all of it—yes to his husky whispers and yes to his lips as I turn my head into the pillow, giving him better access to my neck. The sibilant whisper of the cotton sheets is overlaid by my quiet gasp as his hand slides under my T-shirt to cup my breast.
Yes. Oh, yes . . .
‘Embrasse-moi . . . Kiss me. Give me your mouth, Rose.’ His rasping demands find my ear, his teeth closing on the sensitive lobe and giving it a sharp tug. The pressure resonates between my legs. My body opens, arching into his hand, and the movement earns me a low growl of his approval. ‘J’ai envie de toi . . . I want you.’ Remy grinds against me, his head falling to rest against mine. ‘Ta peau est si douce . . . Your skin