One Night With a Billionaire - By VickiLewis Thompson Page 0,26
the moment would pass, and her face would light up at the sight of painting by Monet or Van Gogh.
That’s why they were here, so she could see those works, and he was determined she would get the most out of the visit. Her enthusiasm fueled his, and he found himself looking at the paintings more intently. Consequently he saw things that he’d missed before.
After they left the museum, they strolled past the colorful shops and cafés of the Left Bank. Drew offered his sunglasses to Melanie, and, typical for her, she refused them. He’d tried to buy her a pair earlier, but she’d insisted she could do without them for a few days.
A cloud drifted over the sun and Drew tucked his glasses inside his jacket. He couldn’t help taking her arm as they crossed the street and headed toward Notre Dame. That kind of thing was bred into him. But he released her once they were safely across.
“And this is where we first met.” She paused in front of the cathedral.
“Yes, ma’am. I hope the spot didn’t get ruined for you because of what happened to you here.”
She gazed up at him. “Meeting you more than made up for it, so no, nothing’s ruined.”
“Good.” He was also glad she wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, because then he would have missed that soft glow in her eyes.
“By the way, why haven’t you held my hand at all this afternoon?”
His breath caught. “What?”
“I’ve been sending out signals, and you seem to be picking them up, but you still haven’t touched me. I understand that you don’t want to be affectionate in front of your household help. I don’t want that, either, but we’re among strangers now.”
“Melanie, I—”
“If you don’t like PDA under any circumstances, I’m cool with that. I just need to know for future reference, so I don’t accidentally embarrass you.”
He was stunned. “I didn’t want to interfere.”
“Interfere?” She looked puzzled.
“With all of this.” He gestured toward the cathedral, the river, and the vivid bustle that was Paris. “You’ve never experienced it, and I didn’t want to distract you from—”
“Oh.” She smiled and her gaze grew even warmer. “That’s incredibly sweet.” She held out her hand. “Could we hold hands the rest of the way back, though?”
“We sure as hell can.” He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her closer. “And while we’re on the subject, how do you feel about kissing in public?”
“We’re in Paris. I thought it was expected.”
“So it is.” Drawing her into his arms with a sigh of relief, he leaned down and finally, finally did what he’d longed to do for hours. Ah. Her mouth was as lush as he remembered, and he groaned when she opened to him.
So generous. So giving. Blood pumped through his veins and settled in a predictable spot. He didn’t want to stop kissing her. He liked it too much. But that was the problem—he liked it way too much.
When he realized that he’d cupped her bottom, he forced himself to end the kiss and back away, but he held on to her hand. “Sorry.” He gulped in air. “I got carried away.”
“Don’t apologize.” She was breathing fast, too. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since this morning.”
“And God knows I’ve wanted to, but you see what happens.”
Her gaze lowered to the crotch of his jeans, and her smile was filled with feminine satisfaction. “It’s nice to be wanted.”
“Darlin’, you have no idea how wanted you are.”
She looked into his eyes. “Likewise.”
His cock strained at the denim of his jeans, and he wondered how he would ever make it through an evening at Les Folies Bergère with this woman. They might have to leave at intermission.
Eight
Melanie had never felt more desirable than she did while sitting at a cozy table drinking champagne with Drew at the famed Les Folies Bergère. The look in his eyes when she’d come downstairs in the red and black dress would stroke her ego for months. She’d carried the cape specifically so that he could help her with it.
Having him settle that silken cape around her shoulders had been like foreplay. And now, as they watched the nearly nude dancers onstage, he held her hand and stroked his thumb over her palm so erotically that she wondered if she could climax simply from that single caress.
The show itself was a sensual delight that celebrated the elegance of the human body. Costumes were often scanty but vibrantly colored. Les Folies Bergère was historic and spoke