When in Paris... (Language of Love)

by Beverley Kendall

  A faint smile curves his lips but his hooded stare speaks volumes. “You look great.”

  But if he’s going to put it into words, that’s a good place to start.

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  “C’mere. I told you I don’t bite,” he says, tipping his head to the side, motioning me over. Closer.

  Now I’m thinking about him biting me and I can’t get the image out of my head.

  With a grand sweep of his hand, he removes the lid from one of the dishes. “Dinner is served.”

  A burger the size of a small steak topped with what looks like three different kinds of cheeses sits center stage on the plate. Surrounding it on one side is a heaping helping of French fries. When you haven’t eaten a decent meal since last night’s dinner of cafeteria lasagna and broccoli, the sight of this makes me want to weep.

  Bill and Rebecca join us at the table and soon we’re consuming our late dinner like it’s our last meal just before Napoleon’s men drag us off. Zach and I fall into the same rhythm we had before with the tension between us upped several notches.

  At one point he’s staring at me so long I excuse myself to use the bathroom to make sure I don’t have a piece of lettuce wedged between my teeth or something else just as horrifying. Nope, I’m clean, which does nothing to stop the knot that is now my stomach from moving farther and farther up my chest.

  When I walk back into the room, his eyes follow me until I sit down, a foot shy away from him. My gaze drops to his lips and I wonder for the millionth time what it would be like to kiss him.

  His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. Before I can blink, he’s up on his feet, pushing the chair away from the table.

  “The restaurant is closed and I’m still hungry. Olivia, you wanna see if we can find a place that sells mud pie? I think I saw one of those dessert-type places across the street.”

  Rebecca snickers from where she’s seated on Bill’s bed. “I know someone who won’t win any awards for subtlety.”

  Bill smirks but doesn’t say a word.

  Now everyone’s eyes are on me and I’m torn. If I accept, our motives for traipsing around Paris at midnight will be obvious. On the other hand, I want to be alone with him so badly, it’s become a physical ache. One that’s been a faint throb for years now.

  When am I ever going to be in a place like Paris—one of the most romantic cities in the world—with a guy I’ve been lusting after for years? In Paris I should be able to throw off some of my inhibitions and live in the moment, right? My response is an unequivocal yes.

  “Sure.” I try to sound casual as can be while inside everything is in a flurry, like leaves in a storm.

  “Great. Do you guys want anything?” Zach asks as he moves toward the door, me close behind him.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Bill replies as he tries to muffle a laugh.

  “Nope,” Rebecca says in unison.

  Zach grabs my hand and tugs me along behind him. In the hall and after the door closes with a sharp click, he looks down at me and says, “You think I was obvious?”

  I bite my lip, fighting a smile. “That you’re still hungry?” God, it’s the first time I’ve ever flirted with him, which makes me feel reckless.

  His eyes go all smoky and his hand tightens around mine. His gaze drifts down to my mouth. “Why don’t you show me your room?” His voice is dark and husky.

  I knew the trip to the store was just an excuse to get me alone but I’m not sure I’m ready for what I think he has in mind.

  Tugging me closer, he leans down until his mouth is touching the shell of my ear. “Not that. I just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” My vocabulary is now reduced to single-syllable words.

  “I can’t tell you how much.”

  Right now I’m so dizzy with desire, I can’t even think straight. But I know my way back to my room. We arrive there in no time flat. I try to remain super calm when I slide the card into the card reader but my hand trembles.

  The click of the door unlocking is the most welcome sound in the world at this moment. Using the flat of his hand, Zach pushes the door open when I turn the knob. Inside, the room is dark save a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the heavy drapes covering the paned windows.

  I flip on the light outside the bathroom. Zach is standing against the closed door watching me. He slowly slowly pushes off with his hands and takes the two strides required to close the gap between us.

  My heart starts an erratic thumping. The key card slips from my boneless fingers to the floor.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely as he lowers his head. His hands gently cup my face. An inarticulate sound emerges from my lips and I’m awash in blinding-hot desire. Then his mouth takes mine and I’m—poof—gone.

  I’m not sure what I thought kissing Zach would be like but it’s a hundred times better than I imagined. His touch is firm and sure as he explores my bottom lip with his tongue. Needy sounds escape my mouth into his: a whimper, a pant, a stifled moan.

  His soft lips lift, skim and gently rub mine. My senses are awhirl, filled with him, his clean masculine scent, his touch. I sift my hands through his hair until my arms are wound tightly around his neck, my breasts flush against his chest.

  He breaks the kiss with a groan, plowing his hands through my hair, brushing it to one side so that the length of my neck is exposed to his mouth.

  “Damn, Liv.” I feel his hot breath on my sensitive skin and then the brush of his lips as it trails from my collarbone to skim the length of my neck to the ultrasensitive flesh behind my ear.

  I’m so excited now, my breaths come in labored pants. I want to touch him all over. Releasing my hands from around his neck, I explore his broad shoulders, familiarizing myself with the hard muscle beneath his shirt before moving on to his smooth back, stopping just above his butt.

  His hands and mouth are doing their own exploring, one hand shaping my hip, the other cupping my head and angling it for another deep, soul-destroying kiss as he presses into me. I feel him hard against my stomach and my whole body clenches in need, in want. I’ve never wanted so much in my life.

  It takes only a minute before we’re both too weak to stand. Without breaking the kiss, Zach walks me back to the bed and lowers me onto it. My legs instinctively part to accommodate him and then he’s there, turned on and hard against me. Lifting my hips to his feels as natural as breathing. My desire spikes to unchartered levels.

  He deepens the kiss, our tongues tangling in frantic abandon, his hips pressing harder into me. Suddenly, he tears his mouth from my lips, his breathing nothing more than harsh gasps as he rests his forehead against mine. “I-I said we were just going to kiss but if we keep this up, it will be too hard to stop.”

  Still lost in a fog of passion, my first instinct is to tell him I want more, that we don’t have to stop. But I know I’m not ready to have sex with Zach. Even if that’s what my body wants, what my body craves right now, I can’t. It’s too soon.

  With my body screaming for me to reconsider, I reluctantly create a distance between us, just enough to let him know without words what’s not going to happen tonight.

  “You’re right,” I say in a shaken voice as I try to bring my breathing under control.

  His hand remains on my waist for several seconds as his breathing slows. I feel the imprint of each finger against my heated flesh where it spans near my bellybutton to the small of my back. It feels so right, like it belongs there.

  Slowly he lifts his hand and trails it down my hip to my thigh, creating a firestorm of sensation everywhere he touches and beyond before he drops it to his side. Then he lies there staring at me, the heat of passion still blazing in his blue eyes.

  “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” His voice is low and rough with need. I’m not naïve and I know guys will say just about anything to get a girl into bed, but Zach, I believe him. This thing between us didn’t just start when he walked into class las
t month. Looking back now, I can see this thing, this connection has been on a slow simmer since high school. Not that either of us would admit it then but I’ll admit it now.

  “I want you too, it just that it’s—”

  Shaking his head, he gently presses his finger over my lips. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. Nothing. We’ll go at the pace you set.”

  If I hadn’t been lying down, I’m pretty sure I’d have been a boneless heap on the floor. Instead I close my eyes and savor his touch before he pulls his hand away.

  Not every guy would have stopped. Most guys would have tried to change the girl’s mind, pressuring her with promises and more kisses. Before she knew it, her panties would be off, the decision made for her and instead of participation it would be an acquiescence, the girl feeling it was too late to say no.

  God, I want to kiss him so bad, my lips tender to the touch or not. But I know getting physical again tonight will end with us naked on my bed. I know it’s going to happen—that I can’t deny to myself any longer—just not tonight.

  I lean over and press a brief, light kiss on his mouth, pulling away just as he parts his lips to take it deeper. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He gives a faint smile as he levers himself up into a sitting position, his booted feet now firmly planted on the floor. I do likewise, following at a slower pace.

  “You think if we go back empty-handed they’ll notice?” he jokes.

  “I think it’s what they’ll expect since you left without a coat,” I reply with a smile.

  In silence, we sit on the bed, our legs flush from hip to thigh as we prolong our time together until we have to separate for the night.

  “C’mon,” he says, rising to his feet. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to mine. “Let’s get to bed.”

  At his words, my gaze flies to his and my eyes go wide. Chuckling softly, he anchors my hand behind my back and draws me to him until my breasts are pressed against his chest. Another jolt of desire nearly buckles my knees.

  “Not together,” he says and then plants a kiss on my forehead. “At least not yet,” he whispers, his mouth coasting my ear before moving to the corner of my mouth. There he takes my mouth in a kiss that’s all wet heat and sinewy tongue.

  My mind is fuzzy when he eventually lifts his head and takes a step back. “C’mon,” he says, his eyes dilated with passion as he stares down at me, “before I forget my good intentions.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ZACH

  I’m all kinds of frustrated by the time I’m back in my room after having walked Olivia and Rebecca back to theirs.

  Whatever anyone thinks of me, I’m not a player. In my almost nineteen years, I’ve only had two one-night stands—completely regrettable—that happened when I was falling-down drunk. They’re not worth how I feel the next morning; hung over and barely remembering the girl’s name.

  I sleep with girls I know whether they’re current girlfriends or exes who have morphed into exes with benefits. What I’ve never had is what I want with Olivia, a from-the-get-go-friend-with-benefits situation.

  Aside from the stuff—past and present—with Ashley, add in football, school and all the other crap in my life, I’d have little time to devote to her. But I want her badly. I consider myself a pretty noble guy but if she’d given me the green light, I’d be with her now, working off the grip of sexual frustration she’s had me in the past month.

  But I can’t blame her for pulling back. She’s the kind of girl who prefers to take things slow. And I can do that.

  “So did you hit it?” Bill asks the minute I’m back in the room.

  “None of your damn business,” I reply, taking no offense. That’s just how guys are.

  He laughs as he throws back the covers and climbs into his bed. “Which means you didn’t. So, what’s the deal, are you two going out?”

  “We’re friends.” I don’t want to discuss Olivia with anyone right now.

  “Yeah, friends with benefits,” he says with a snort.

  It’s like he’s reading my mind. I don’t say anything, just start getting ready to hit the sack. Bill goes quiet and I think he’s sleeping when I return from the bathroom after I go through my nighttime ritual of brushing my teeth and washing my face.

  But as I’m climbing into my bed, he asks in a voice of exaggerated solemnity, “Do you think Olivia will be my friends with benefits too?”

  “Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

  Pause.

  “And stay the hell away from her.”

  He laughs as if I don’t mean it. I only mean it if he’s serious.

  ~*~*~

  The majority of the year I don’t get a lot of time off from playing, practicing or watching football. It’s times like this, when I know there’s no hit in sight for at least a solid week, that I enjoy the reprieve from it.

  Today, the class is taking a morning tour of Notre Dame. I’ve been there before, on that family trip when I was thirteen. I don’t know if seeing it now that I’m older will make the experience different but the thought of seeing it with Olivia does give it a shot in the arm like few other things can.

  Bill warned me he was a late riser and true to his word he ignores the seven a.m. wake-up call. I’m showered, dressed and walking out the door when I hear him stirring, apparently finally deciding if he doesn’t get his ass up, he won’t catch breakfast before we leave at ten.

  As I head to the elevator, I’m deciding whether to knock on Olivia’s door to see if she’s up and on her way down to breakfast. I decide to text her instead.

  Me: Hey, you up?

  By my estimates, if she’s up, she’ll text me back within a minute or two. I’ll give her five minutes before I make tracks and hit the restaurant in the lobby alone. Preparing myself for a wait, I lean back against the wall in front of the elevators.

  The place is dead quiet, except the distant whir of the elevators. I’m wondering how many guests are actually booked on the floor save our class when the bing of my cell alerts me to an incoming message:

  Olivia: I’m up.

  Me: Are u going down 4 breakfast?

  Olivia: Just got out of the shower. Give me 20 mins?

  Just got out of the shower. I can’t get the words or the image it conjures up out of my head.

  Me: I’ll wait. Meet u in the lobby.

  Olivia: K. See you then.

  I’m about to slip my cell back in my jean pocket when it dings again.

  Olivia: btw, Rebecca’s coming.

  I laugh to myself before texting her back.

  Me: Of course. ;)

  I ride the elevator down alone, wondering what I’m going to do to kill the next twenty minutes.

  The second I reach the ground floor, my cell rings, and the ringtone has me cursing up a blue, red and yellow streak in my head.

  Fuck!

  Ashley.

  I do what I do most of the time, heave a deep breath and pick up the call.

  “Ashley.” I’m not in a mood for even the pretense of pleasantries.

  “Zach, I’m home on break. Where are you?” Like me, she doesn’t waste time on preliminaries like greetings.

  “Yeah, well I won’t be going home until Thanksgiving.” Although I managed to dodge her texts and calls every other day or so, when I did speak to her, I didn’t say a word about coming to Paris. I knew she’d throw a fit. And the only thing worse than Ashley throwing a fit, is the aftermath. I wasn’t up for that.

  “Not coming home?” Her voice rises on a whine, which feels like fingernails on a chalkboard. My back stiffens in response. “Do you mean you’re at school?”

  The hotel lobby is in a word ornate with towering Greek-like columns that look to be a pretty good imitation of marble. I head for an alcove I spot outside the gift shop.

  “Look, Ashley, I’m out of town.” Christ, I’m not going to account for my every move to my ex. This whole thing has moved to beyond the ridiculous. Then I think of the promise I made to
her mother at the hospital and that’s when the battle between guilt and anger begin. Fuck!

  All goes quiet on the other end of the phone and it goes on so long, panic starts to rise in my chest. All sorts of thoughts go through my head about what she may have done or might be thinking of doing.

  It’s almost a relief when she starts talking. Almost.

  “How could you go out of town when you knew I’d be coming home?” She’s all whine and cheese now.

  I run my hand through my hair and fight the overwhelming urge to jerk it out—by the roots—which gives you an idea of the level of my frustration.

  “Ashley.” I say her name between gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “We. Are. Not. Together. Anymore.” I wonder how many times I have to say it before she finally gets it. Christ, when I took her on, I was walking into a nightmare. They say hindsight is 20/20 and when it comes to her, I couldn’t agree more.

  She sniffs and my hand tightens around the phone. There was a time when I couldn’t stand to see a female—any female—cry, now at the sight or even sound of tears, my emotions shut down. I discovered too often, with girls tears are all about manipulation. I’ve done my time in that emotional prison and I want out.

  “We only broke up because we were going to be so far apart. That’s what you said, right?”

  She’s conveniently forgetting when I first tried to break up with her and she suffered a complete meltdown. The end of high school had been a manna from the gods in terms of excuses. I’d latched on to that one like a magnet. I hoped that would be the end of it, but of course it wasn’t.

  I sigh and I’ve never felt so to-the-bone weary in my entire life. Right now I’d give up my right nut just to get her off the phone without causing a shitstorm. “Look, Ashley, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. I’ll talk to you then.” Because that’s when I’m definitely going to put a stop to this. Her mother is just going to have to understand I’m not up for this. Her daughter is making my life crazy and all set to drive me insane.

  Maybe it’s because I feel someone staring at me, but instinct has me turning my head toward the elevator area where I see Olivia and Rebecca walking toward me.