by Anna Bloom
He slips my small hand in his giant one and I give a little shiver when I remember what those hands can do. “No, I mean I can come with you, that would be fantastic.”
I stare at him wild-eyed. “But then you’d have to meet my sister.”
“Are we going in there or not?” He tugs on my hand.
“I don’t know.” I’m rooted to the spot while he leans in and whispers.
“Just one step at a time.”
14
Barney’s Best Friend
“So, this is it.” I push my key into the brass lock trying to remember if I picked up yesterday’s knickers from the bedroom floor. It’s not always top of my to do list.
I’m not sure how we got here. From Hamleys, to the hotel where he checked out, to my place.
All because I said, ‘I’ll let you in’. Turns out it was also a physical invitation to share my home for the weekend.
That’s not crazy right?
Oh God, it is crazy.
I don’t even know this man.
“Julianna.” He says my name and it’s like every worry just evaporates out of my brain. “You’re overthinking it.”
“Overthinking it?” I practically gasp, clutching my chest, and it has nothing to do with faulty valves. “I don’t even know you.”
A full-on panic attack tinges the edge of my eyesight black, and I can barely register him putting his hand over mine and turning the key. “You know me.”
A screeching barrel of fur launches at our legs. I’m late to serve dinner. My bad.
“And this is…” Henri tows me into my own flat by my elbow. My feet trip over themselves without the need for Barney’s incessant winding around my ankles, and his I’m going to claw your eyes out while you sleep miaow.
“Barney, stop! God, I’m so sorry, Henri.”
“The famous Barney.” My eyesight clears just in time to see Henri swoop Barney up, turn him on his back and rub his fingers into the mass of fur on his belly.
“No! Your hand.” I wait for a splattering of blood to decorate my hallway, but instead I’m met by a steady hum of a contented purr. “Oh. He normally hates everyone.”
Henri puts him back down on the floor and Barney starts to weave a figure of eight around his ankles while also shaking his tail. Oh, dear God, is he scenting him?
I shoo him away with my toe. “That’s one way to break the ice.”
Henri smiles, leaning against my hallway wall. My stomach somersaults like a gold medal winner. “You seem so nervous, ma petite Julianna.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
I swallow, a lump forming in my throat that feels rather like an ancient brick. “I don’t have people over often.”
A small line furrows between his brow. “Why?”
I raise my shoulder and then let them drop. “I dunno. I work long hours. Then of course there’s always the fact that Barney might maul someone to death.” I shoot a sheepish smile which says: please don’t ask anything more.
Barney is trying to climb his long legs like a tree. Can’t say I blame him, been there done that. My cheeks scorch.
“So will we spend all weekend in the hallway?”
Whoosh, even hotter. Henri steps closer, peeling himself off the wall, now my favourite work of art, and runs a finger along my warm cheeks. “I can stay in the hotel if this is too fast for you.”
Julia, please don’t be that girl—live a little… before it’s too late.
I push down whispered memories of the past. “Well, I guess it’s not that fast. We’ve known each other months now.”
He stretches a smile that could stop traffic. “Exactly.”
Grabbing his hand, I pull him down the short hallway and into the main living space. He stops at the door. “Wow, this is very…”
“Small.” I fill in for him. It is and having a massive Frenchman in it is shrinking the cubic square foot by the second.
“I was going to say grey.”
I try to see it from his eyes, turning to take it in. Okay, so there are a few grey things. Walls, cushions, sofa, I wouldn’t say it’s totally grey.
I launch for one of the scatter cushions and hold it up. “This is mustard.”
Henri shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”
I know it’s not. “I’ve got ferns,” I whimper.
He slowly turns on the spot. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and she lives in a square box.” His eyes meet mine. “Ma petite, fate really was bringing us together for a reason.”
I narrow my gaze. “I’m not a pity subject. I like my life. I like my home. It’s exactly what I need and that’s all that matters.”
His eyebrow speaks for him.
“So would you like a cup of tea or something?” When in doubt, offer tea. My childhood training taught me that much.
He smirks. Bastard. “No, Julianna, I do not want a cup of tea.” His gaze turns smoky, and my stomach drops as he paces to where I’ve put some cooling space between myself and my unexpected visitor.
“What I really want is to fuck you on one of these boringly grey surfaces to bring it all to life a little.”
“What?” I don’t get to protest any further because he has me in his arms, his mouth seeking mine, licking at the seam begging for entry. “Liv is going to call any moment,” I pull away to gasp. His hand runs under the cotton of my blouse, brushing my skin and erupting me hot and cold all at once. His mouth finds mine again. His kisses taste like little droplets of heavenly nectar. “She’s going to be furious when that bear turns up. It doesn’t match her colour scheme.” Another word-stealing kiss. I’m out of air. “It’s bigger than Paige’s bedroom.”
“I have no concern.” His lips drop to my throat, teeth on skin. Gasping, I drop my head back and his fingers make light work of my blouse, pushing it and my cardigan into a pile on the floor. Reaching behind, he unhooks my bra, teasing it gently off my shoulders, and then drops that too. My nipples harden at the exposure, at the unexpected, delectable delight of being freed in the middle of the living room on a Friday afternoon. They pebble and wait patiently for a touch. It doesn’t come. He stares at them from under thick, dark lashes. Slowly, he lowers his head and pulls one into his mouth. Instinctively I arch my back, my lessons in ballet recommencing at his touch. One of his hands runs around the curve of my spine, supporting me or holding me closer so he has full control; either way it’s making me quiver.
“Henri,” I gasp his name, it falls from my lips like I’ve never not known it.
“What is it?” He lets go of my nipple, glancing at me, eyes dark.
“Sofa. I think the sofa should be the first grey surface.”
Chuckling, he sweeps me up and stalks for the IKEA special before lowering me down like I’m a goddamn Swedish queen on a throne made of manmade fabric. With his big palms he rolls me onto my front, my face and tits crushing into the cushions. The zip of my skirt fills the air, his thumb running down the V-shaped opening along the edge of my lace knickers.
God, I love his hands.
Crave his touch.
He swears in French before swiftly converting to English. “What is this cat doing? Can’t it see I’m busy?”
I snort into the sofa. “He’s hungry. Here, let me feed him.”
I go to push up, but his hand holds me down. “I’ll go. You must stay where you are.”
My last shred of feminist rights shrivel inside me and die a sad and lonely end as I heat with scorching fire through every blistering part of my body.
“Tin on top of the microwave.”
Cool air rushes across my back as he moves away.
I wait with bated breath as the clatter of biscuit hitting china and the wild miaow of Barney tells me the beast has been sated.
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 flo
or 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.”
He eyeballs me from under one arched brow. “And how long do two people have to know one another before they know?”
“Know what?”
A French shrug. Perfect timing.
I shake my head, biting down a grin. “I’m learning your shrugs, Henry Carré.”
With a deep rumbling chuckle, he rocks me backwards and forwards, until his smile falters and the laughter dies on his lips. “Truth is though, I don’t know what I can offer right now.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “That’s okay; me neither. Can’t we just keep this fun?”
Please say yes. Please say yes.
“Believe me I have fun.”
So, why’s his face shadowed?
Wriggling up his body like I’m climbing a pole, I peck a kiss on his mouth. “This doesn’t look like fun.”
Sliding his fingers in my hair he holds me in place. “And when I’m shouting your name?”
“My name or Juliette?”
He flashes a grin. “Both. I like you both equally.”
“Cheeky.” I meet his gaze. “So you like me?”
“Very, very much so.”
“But this can’t be anything, because…”
“Maman needs me, right now. She’s not in a good place.”
“I’m not asking you to move here, Henri. Jesus, I haven’t even offered you breakfast yet.”
“I know, but I got this feeling, it tells me I’ll always want more of you.”
I hold my breath. He feels it too.
I force myself to remember that I’m dying. “So, let’s just enjoy this. When you are in town, you can come and find me.” My cheeks flame. “You know… if you want.”
Swallowing hard, I hold still as he trails a finger down my cheek. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asks.
“Sure.” I laugh off key. “I can keep secrets, the cat not so much.”
“I was supposed to go back home Thursday evening. I got all the way to the Eurostar and then just couldn’t get on. I couldn’t believe I’d been here for three days and hadn’t seen you.”
My heart beats unevenly.
“I thought you said it was fate?”
“Fate needed just a little longer.”
Mulling on this, I chew on the inside of my cheek before saying, “I’m glad,” for which I’m rewarded with a showstopper smile.
“Me too.”
“So. Let’s not overthink this. It’s just what it is.”
Deep down I know one day he will come to London and I will no longer live here. Tears prickle my eyes and I pull upright into sitting so he can’t see.
It seems so unfair.
“And if I fall in love with you?”
He reaches for my cheek and my whole chest empties: no air, no heartbeat, nothing.
“Don’t,” I whisper, but then plaster on a wide smile. “Right, let’s get some food. I’m famished.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch his critical glance over me. “You look like you haven’t eaten.”
“I have.”
“What did you last eat?”
“A Pot Noodle.”
“What is that?”
I explain and groaning, he throws back the covers and stretches his legs over the side of the bed. Have I mentioned his legs and just how mighty fine they are?
“It’s just as well I didn’t get on that train.”
“Is that so?”
He catches me up in his arms and tosses me over his shoulder, bare naked ass to the ceiling.
“It is very much so. Now what food do you have in the fridge?” He strides for the kitchen and I could stop him and tell him I don’t have any food in, but his beautiful dick is bouncing just in my line of sight and after all I am only human.
15
Lover
Liv: I’m expecting a teddy bear explanation. You know they couldn’t get it in the house right?
I giggle and show Henri my phone. Breakfast is brunch at a small Italian café he found five minutes away from my flat that I didn’t even know existed.
He has a paper laid out, sipping an espresso.
I don’t need a paper because I’m staring at a masterpiece.
“I think the bear is going to put me in your sister’s bad books before we’ve even met.” He smirks a little sexy lip hitch. I want to tell him that if he just does that in her direction I’m pretty sure all will be forgiven.
“Don’t worry. I shall distract her by introducing you as my part-time continental fuck buddy and all will be fine.”
He shakes his head and refocuses on his paper and I refocus on him. There’s a slight smattering of dark hair that traces from his hands up to where his jumper is pushed up his forearm. It’s major arm porn.
Arm. Porn.
He’s here. Like really here.
In an orgasm giving, non-boyfriend capacity.
I smirk to myself as I catch sight of us both in an old-fashioned Peroni beer mirror. Yep, some girls get all the luck. My reflection shines back at me. There’s an almost forgotten pink stain on my cheeks, my dark hair is down, a shadow against my scarlet cardigan I have on. Henri found it most amusing when I’d put on my weekend Converse and only came up to his nipples. Those heels do serve a purpose after all. Considering he’d only seen me in my black work attire until now he seemed oddly satisfied with the change.
“So, tell me about this party.” He folds his paper carefully reminding me of the first time we met.
“Paige, she’s going to be four.” I wince. “I should warn you, she’s a little on the wild side.”
“How so?”
“You know, unbrushed hair, talks like a Neanderthal mainly in grunts and screams.”
Henri reaches forward and tucks a wayward lock of my hair in place. “Sounds like a fun party.”
“Oh, I can guarantee you Liv will have tried to put her in a posh party frock, and she’ll be tearing around in her knickers and vest by the time we get there.” I slurp my milky coffee, looping my hands around the warmth of the mug. The day isn’t cold, but my fingers are numb almost. Pushing the observation away I ask, “Have you got any nieces or nephews?”
That shadow flickers across his. “One, although I think Maman has given up hope of her kids having anymore.”
