He rubbed the deep lines in his forehead. “If we’re going to get that specific, then no, I haven’t had sex on this bed. Or in the bathroom or on the balcony, for that matter.”
Alice narrowed her eyes. “So what type of a relationship did you have with this woman, who came a beautiful, romantic hotel with you but didn’t have sex?”
“She was my girlfriend, but the relationship was over.” Jonas frowned. “We had our last fight at a restaurant down the street from here. After dinner, she came back to the room to get her bag and left. So I spent the night alone.”
His voice was a whisper when he spoke this last word. Alone. It echoed through the hotel room, through her frustration, and it told her more than anything else he had said since Stockholm. For a moment, he looked defeated. Vulnerable.
“So you spent the night getting over your ex-girlfriend?” she asked softly. “Why would you bring me here?”
Jonas shook his head.
“That’s not how I spent the night,” he said softly. “I was pretty depressed. I kept fucking up my life, but I didn’t care enough to change that. So I fucked it up worse.”
He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles of his arms flexed as he moved and shifted.
Jonas turned his head to look at her, his eyes soft and serious. “I’ve always wanted to do things differently, to come back to Paris and make it right. And I want to be here with someone…”
His voice trailed off, leaving only the hard thumping of Alice’s heart in her ears. She kept her eyes steady on his. “With someone…?”
The creases on his forehead deepened. “I want to be here with you. I want us to explore whatever this is between us. I’ve messed up so much in my life. I want to get something right.”
She smoothed more imaginary wrinkles out of the bedspread. She had promised herself not to look into Jonas’s past.
Jonas rested his hand on hers, stopping her fidgeting. Alice swallowed. She turned her hand over and laced her fingers with his.
“I didn’t look you up when I was in Copenhagen,” she said. “I didn’t think it was any of my business.”
Jonas ran his other hand through his hair and took a long breath, his heavy shoulders rising and falling. “But it is.”
“Even if you and I go our separate ways tomorrow?” she asked. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I said back in Stockholm that I wasn’t the man in the story anymore, and it’s mostly true. I won’t let it happen again.” He frowned. “But I’ll never be able to get away from my past. Not even for one night, it turns out.”
Her fingers curled around the bedspread. “What should I know about you?”
“I spent some time in prison,” he said flatly.
Alice’s heart gave a heavy thump. She had been right. She couldn’t escape that world. Across the Atlantic, in a different country, with a different language, she had managed to find the kind of guy she’d sworn she’d never be with.
Alice swallowed hard. “What were you in for?”
He closed his eyes. “Drugs. Assault. I got into some trouble for some bad, stupid shit before, but this time was worse.”
“How long ago?”
“I got out a couple years ago,” he said, his shoulders sinking. He opened his eyes again and studied her. “You don’t look as shocked as I thought you would. Though I haven’t gotten into the details.”
Alice hadn’t taken a breath in too long. Her heart pounded hard, but she wasn’t shocked. Not even surprised, as if some part of her knew it from the start.
“And you’re not into that stuff anymore?”
“No.”
Of course not. That’s what everyone said. That’s what her father told her mother until the next time he got caught.
“Never again?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I managed to make it out the other side clean. I don’t think I’ll get a second chance on that kind of thing. It’s been a long time, but I have to be careful.”
There was wariness in his voice. As if he still didn’t trust himself.
Jonas took a deep breath. “I’m really careful with what I get myself involved in. I throw myself into everything I do. I can be a little obsessive when something really clicks with me.”
She almost smiled. He certainly hadn’t hidden that part of himself.
“But as I told you back in Stockholm, sometimes the thing I get hooked on is something good.” He smiled a little. “That’s what I’m doing here in this hotel room.”
Alice bit her lip.
“The thing that really clicks with me right now is you.” His expression softened. “But I understand if this changes things for us.”
He was giving her an escape route. She could end it, walk away right now. She probably should.
He looked down at his hands. “It’s fine. I get it. When I think about my past, I don’t want to be around me either.”
Alice closed her eyes. Why wasn’t she getting up? Her whole childhood had been a slow, painful lesson in where a relationship with a man like this went. But Alice wasn’t her mother, and this wasn’t a relationship. It was one more night.
She looked up into his eyes. “You didn’t tell me about your past back in Stockholm because you thought I’d run?”
“Maybe. I had other selfish reasons, too.” He parted his full lips, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he frowned. “I just wanted to see what it was like to be together, you and me, without my past, my mistakes. I have the rest of my life for remorse.”
“What did that feel like?” she asked softly. “To forget for the night?”
“Good. Really good.”
Alice took a deep breath and scooted closer on the bed. His arms closed around her, and she rested her head against his chest.
“But when I saw you at the airport today, I regretted it,” he said, his breath in her hair. “Your whole face lit up when you smiled at me. But it was just for the cleaned-up version of me. Not everything.”
A car revved its engine somewhere far below on the street. Jonas’s chest rose and fell in slow, resigned breaths. The warmth of his arms felt so good. She could spend this whole day just like this.
Jonas shifted back a little. “Does this mean you’re going to stay?”
She should have hesitated, but she didn’t. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Good.”
There were so many pieces of him that she would never know. In Stockholm, she told herself that Jonas was the kind of indulgence she could handle every once in a while without consequences, like chocolate or bad TV. But now she was sitting in a Paris hotel room, listening to his heart beat in his chest. This wasn’t indulgence. This was something else.
“What are we doing, Jonas?” she whispered.
He smoothed her hair a couple times. “I don’t know.”
He eased back onto the bed, and she climbed around to settle next to him. She slipped her hand under his shirt and rested it on his hot skin. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his long, steady breaths.
ALICE BLINKED A couple times, and everything came into focus. The afternoon sun had lit a trail from the open French doors, onto the white bedspread, up Jonas’s delicious body. His breaths were slow and steady in her ear. She was really here in a Paris hotel room, lying in Jonas’s arms. Not a dream.
The taut planes of muscles under her fingers weren’t a dream, either. Her breath quickened.
She shifted to roll off the bed, trying not to wake him. She stretched and stepped into the sun. The balcony was warm, and the light skimmed and glittered over the rooftops. The Eiffel Tower, the real thing, rose up in the distance, shining.
She turned to take in Jonas’s long, muscular frame, stretched out over the bed as he slept. There were no traces of the worry lines she had seen when they had talked about his past, and his full lips parted slightly in the same way they did when he was going to k
iss her. One arm was thrown over his head, the lines of his thick muscles at rest, and his other arm lay out in silent invitation. She moved closer, studying the tattoos that wound around his arm. The thick tribal designs were the most prominent, and the ink was older, faded. What did he think of these tattoos now that he had left his old life behind?
His shirt had risen up, exposing the lean muscles of his stomach and the trail of hair, so overtly sexual. What did he fantasize about? He had left his past, but there were things that couldn’t be buried. Was there a part of him that still craved something rougher? A part of him he had lulled to sleep in his new, reformed life? Did she dare try to awaken that part again?
Alice swallowed. She could nudge him right now and ask. But he might not know the answer. After all, she thought she had left guys like this behind years ago until Jonas showed up. If she wanted to know, she’d have to find out for herself.
Jonas shifted, his muscles flexing with each movement. There were so many ways she could wake him up. Though a shower should probably come first. She sighed and headed for the bathroom.
Showering was more complicated than it sounded. The tub was the old-fashioned kind that rested on four, elegant feet with ornate fixtures. Made for baths, not showers. Missing was the curtain. The shower head wrapped around the faucet. Apparently, she was supposed to hold the shower head in one hand and wash herself with the other, all without soaking the 100-plus-year-old walls around her. Right. At least it was warm out. How did anyone shower in the wintertime in this place?
Alice turned the hot and cold knobs and peeled off her travel clothes. She tested the temperature and stepped into the tub. She let out a sigh as the warm water ran over her body. How she would manage soap at the same time was still a mystery, but for now, she closed her eyes and let the heat flow over her.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of the doorknob. She turned her head. Jonas leaned in the doorway, watching her. He had taken off his shirt, exposing the rest of his stomach and the broad muscles of his chest. His lips were parted again, and a hint of a smile teased at the corners of his mouth. But his eyes held a darker hunger of the most basic kind. The kind that got her imagination going.
He reached down to adjust the bulge in his pants, his tattoos rippling with each move. She traced each muscle with her eyes, slowly, deliberately. He was hers for the next twenty-four hours, and she was going to make this the best twenty-four hours of her life.
His intense blue eyes hinted at something darker. His past, his book, his scarred body suggested something rougher. Something dangerous. Something that turned her insides to flames, whether or not she liked it.
Her breasts were heavy, and she cupped one with her hand. She teased her nipple, sending a shot of pleasure through her core. Jonas’s eyes widened, his hand still on his erection.
She raised an eyebrow. “S’il vous plait?”
At the sound of her voice, some of the darkness lifted from his gaze. He smiled. “Can I help you with your shower?”
His voice was still rough with sleep, and he ran a hand through his tousled hair, waiting for her reply. She teased her nipple again and nodded at Jonas. Then she turned her back to him.
Closing her eyes, she let her other senses take over. Warm streams of water. The rustle of his jeans falling to the floor. The brush of her thumb over her nipple. His footsteps, closer.
His hand rested low on her hip as he stepped into the tub. He lifted her hair and kissed her shoulder, tasting her skin with his tongue. His teeth scraped the side of her neck. Alice’s breath caught in her throat. He pressed his chest against her back and slid his erection between her legs.
“Repeat after me,” Jonas whispered, letting his lips linger on her earlobe. “Lave-moi, s’il vous plait.”
“Lave-moi, s’il vous plait,” she echoed.
“Tres bien. Very good.”
He found the drain plug and let the water fill the tub. His hands explored her stomach and fondled her breasts as the water splashed at their ankles. Jonas took the showerhead from her and turned off the water. He sat down, sprawling across the tub, his legs open. Alice bit her lip, picturing where this was leading.
“Now come and straddle me,” he said, his voice rumbling in his throat.
She held onto the sides of the tub and lowered herself to kneel over him. She shifted forward, and her breasts brushed against him. His breath stopped, but he didn’t move. He kept his gaze steady on her face as she balanced herself over him.
“I don’t think condoms work well in the water,” he said, his voice tight. “But we can do other things.”
She nodded a little. Other things. What kinds of other things filled his fantasies? Darker things that he had written about in his book?
His hands caressed her hips as he guided her over the top of his hard, full length. He shifted to raise his knees. His gaze still fixed on her, he thrust, sliding along her core.
She squeezed her eyes closed at the intense pleasure and let out a soft cry. His erection jerked under her, setting off another rush of intense heat that echoed through her. He smiled a little. His short, raspy breaths rang in her ears.
“Are you ready for the soap?” he whispered.
Alice opened her eyes and looked into the deep blue of his gaze. “I assumed we were skipping that part when you climbed into the tub with me.”
Jonas shook his head. “Oh no. I just didn’t want you to get bored.”
“Very generous of you.”
Their breaths and little laughs echoed in the room.
“But you’ll have to keep still, or this will all be over much sooner than either of us would like,” he said. He leaned forward, and his lips tasted the base of her neck. “Le savon, s’il vous plait? The soap.”
Alice turned to the shelf behind her and reached for the soap. She shifted, trying out a new position against his hard length. She stretched over him, and he leaned forward to catch her breast in his mouth.
“Oh, God,” she moaned.
He let go and settled back against the tub, his breaths coming faster. The soap. Right. Jonas’s eyes were closed. She lifted one of his hands off her hips and set the little bar in it. Then she leaned forward to touch her lips to his, letting the tips of her breasts brush against his chest.
She sighed. “I'm ready.”
A string of foreign words came out in his harsh breath. He opened his eyes again and gave her a hazy smile. Alice shifted back, and a shudder ran through his body, triggering her own.
He lathered the soap and moved his hand slowly up and down one of her arms. Alice opened her mouth to comment on her own imperfections, but the intensity in Jonas’s gaze made her hold back. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him softly.
What would it be like to have him inside her right now? To throw away all caution and for once just do what she wanted to do? And where would that push him?
He moved to focus on her other arm. His body twitched and flexed under his movements, but he took his time. He studied each part of her body as he worked his way down, over her breasts, and along the curves of her stomach and hips. Neither of them spoke.
When he had worked his way down her body, he turned on the showerhead to rinse her off. Trails of water ran down her body and over his.
“When I was a teenager, I used to get myself off to fantasies like this,” he groaned.
She smiled. “I bet you were an interesting teenager.”
“That’s a polite way of saying it.” His eyes were serious for a moment, but he shook his head, and the look was gone.
Alice took the showerhead from him and set it aside. “Is it my turn now?”
Jonas’s eyes widened, and he shifted his hips against hers.
“Whatever you’d like,” he whispered.
She kissed him softly and reached for the soap. Her hands glided over the warm, smooth muscles of his chest and shoulders. She studied his tattoos, tracing the lines of unrecognizable words. S
he rested her fingers on the large black bird with the injured wing. He didn’t flinch, but his breaths came quicker. Was that him, broken, flying away from it all? She looked up, her question on her lips, but his eyes were far away.
No. She wasn’t going to push him. Not here, not now. She dropped her eyes to the tattoo on his shoulders, following the design over the bulk of his arm.
“When did you get this one?” she asked, touching the ends of the faded, tribal-like design.
“Right when I turned eighteen,” he said. “I was tall, but I hadn’t filled out much yet. I had started fighting a little, and I wanted to intimidate the guys I was up against. Not sure if it worked.” He gave her a wry smile.
Her fingers stopped, and she looked up at him again. “What kind of fighting?”
Jonas frowned. “For money. Nothing legal.”
She waited for more, but he didn’t say anything more.
“Any regrets about the tattoo now that you’re not in the intimidation business anymore?” she asked.
“Don’t really thing about it anymore.” Jonas’s expression softened, and he chuckled. “Why? You don’t like tattoos?”
The heat traveled up her neck. “I do. I wish they didn’t turn me on, but they do.”
He looked at her, brow furrowed, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk more about that. Not when there were so many other things she wanted to do right now.
She placed the soap back into the tray and continued her explorations. Jonas closed his eyes. Alice ran her hand over his neck, and his pulse pounded under her fingertips. His hands pressed against her thighs, and his thumbs circled higher.
She found the showerhead and rinsed him off. The water ran down his chest and steamed from the pool of in the tub. She turned off the knobs.
“Fuck, this feels good,” he growled, his hands clenching as he thrust his hips.
He cupped her cheeks and brought his lips to hers. Alice reached between them and gave his erection a hard stroke. Jonas gritted his teeth and tipped his head back. Before she could think through her next move, she rose up and positioned him at her entrance.
“Are you clean?” she whispered.
One Night in Paris: Short, Steamy Romance - Episode #2 of 4 (Stockholm Diaries, Alice) Page 2
