A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,118
her heart. Keeley reached for him, wanting to feel if the beat of his heart was echoing hers. With a trembling hand she touched his chest and, as her fingertips connected with the fabric of his shirt, he tipped forward, placing his hand on top of hers. Now she was breathless, motionless, simply still and able to recognise the thrum of his core exactly as urgent as her own.
Keeley gazed at him. It was like somehow she had known him her whole life. She took in the way his slightly wild crop of hair never quite looked the same, the tiny crinkles at the corner of his beautiful eyes that increased when he laughed or concentrated hard, his firm jaw and those oh-so-smooth lips. Looking at him, being with him was like coming home to a familiarity no one had let her know existed out there, ready only for her.
‘Keeley,’ Ethan said, a hitch in his voice.
She didn’t want to speak anymore. She wanted to be a little selfish. She wanted to believe this was somehow meant to be.
She leaned into him, in no doubt of what she wanted, connecting their lips in a kiss that sent crackles of heat right the way through her. And Ethan’s response only sent her temperature soaring higher. He returned the kiss she had started and it was like before on the street – strong, sensual, passionate – yet this time the intensity seemed to have increased ten-fold. This wasn’t a kiss you broke away from. This was a kiss you leaned in to and made last.
It was Keeley’s fingers that moved to buttons first and hastily, keeping their mouths together, she began to unfasten Ethan’s shirt. Her heart might have been jumping a jive, but her mind was clear. There was nothing she wanted more than to move this on a level. Except she still didn’t know. And maybe she did need to know before this went further. She drew her mouth away from his, breathless, knowing her pupils had to be as large as giant chocolate buttons as she regarded him, shirt half on-half off, his hair even wilder now her fingers had raked their way through it. ‘Ethan,’ she said.
‘Oui.’
She could see the deep concern in his face, almost as if he felt he had done something wrong. Perhaps this was the kind of complex that someone who had obviously brought himself up had hanging over him all the time. But this vulnerability and exposure of his inner self to her only fuelled her feelings for him.
Keeley reached for his hand, interlinking it with hers. ‘What was the name of the girl? The one who has a piece of your heart?’
He squeezed her hand and kept his eyes on hers. ‘Crevette,’ he answered. ‘Ma crevette.’
Not Ferne. Definitely not Ferne. The absolute relief quickly mixed together with total joy at his reply and Keeley kissed him again, hurrying to relieve him of his clothes. She discarded his shirt and looked in appreciation at his trim torso before resting her lips on his shoulder blade, then kissing a pathway down his chest.
‘Keeley,’ he said, raising her head with one hand and looking deep into her eyes. ‘You are sure?’
It was a gentleman’s question and Ethan was every inch the gentleman even if he did not realise it. She smiled and kissed his mouth again. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ She palmed his face again. ‘Show me your bedroom.’
Needing no further reassurance, Ethan scooped her up in his arms, holding her tight as she kissed him again, and he carried her out of the room.
Fifty-Four
Place de la Bastille, Paris
‘Today, nothing remains of the prison,’ Noel began the next morning. ‘In my opinion this is a good thing. I feel if the ruins did remain, then Paris would be inundated with tourists wanting there to also be cardboard cut outs of Russell Crowe or Ann Hathaway for them to have selfie photographs with.’
Rach drew in a breath, looking like she was also inhaling snowflakes that were dropping at pace from heavy grey clouds above them. ‘Why did we agree to this particular sightseeing expedition at stupid o’clock?’
Keeley stifled another yawn. ‘Because Silvie arranged it for us and she’s meeting us for lunch. And she paid for our whole trip here and—’
‘Alright! Alright! I get it,’ Rach said with a sigh. ‘Although I’d be slightly more grateful if I had a large strong coffee in my hands right about now.’