Marietta Hotels 2: An Engagement in Paris

by Rachell Nichole

  Julien took a step toward her, and she didn’t move back. She let him come closer, the way she’d done when he’d first set out to seduce her. He flicked his dark blond hair out of his eyes and stalked her across the room, his shoulders barely jostling with his movements. She stayed frozen in the kitchen.

  “Julien,” she whispered.

  And then he was before her, his brow lined with concern, a sheen of tears in his eyes. He was so sincere. When he wrapped his arms around her, she collapsed into his embrace. The strength in his slender body still stunned her, and as he enveloped her in warmth, she let herself hope. When he held her like this, their relationship didn’t seem so impossible; the obstacles grew smaller, becoming more nuisance and inconvenience than something they would never be able to get over. He rested his chin gently on her shoulder and stroked her hair.

  “Ma belle, je suis désolé.”

  “I know. I know you’re sorry,” she said, tears raking the back of her throat.

  He kissed her cheek. “Shh, ma belle. Don’t cry.”

  She tried to stop the flow of tears but couldn’t. They rushed from her, bathing her cheeks in warmth. Damn pregnancy hormones! She’d cried more in the past two months more than she had in the previous five years. He leaned back from the embrace and gazed into her eyes.

  “Besides, you are not even close to old enough to be ma mère.” Julien smiled, and she felt an answering chuckle burst through the tears. “Annabelle is an idiot.”

  Then he was leaning in, brushing her lips with his, and she was lost.

  She let the tidal wave of desire she’d been keeping at bay wash over her, taking her breath away as Julien dipped his tongue into her mouth. It slid against hers, coaxing her to a fever pitch in seconds. Only he could do that to her. Over a decade of serious dating, and she’d never met a man who could turn her blood molten and chase away all errant thoughts. And Julien was a man, even though her doubtful side sometimes tried to convince her that a twenty-year-old couldn’t be man enough for her.

  He ran his tongue against the sensitive flesh of her bottom lip, teasing her, soothing away the last vestiges of doubt and her tears. With their mouths fused together, she wrapped her body around his.

  “Je t’aime, ma belle,” he whispered against her lips.

  “I love you too.”

  The tips of his bangs tickled her forehead as she stared into his bright green eyes. The rims of gold around his pupils glowed, even in the dim light of the kitchen. He cupped her ass through her soft, tight jeans, grinding against her. Then he pulled back, searching her eyes.

  Whatever he saw there must have assured him of her forgiveness, because he dipped his head to hers again. A light touch from his lips sent a shiver down her spine. This was the slow seduction his eyes had promised her from day one. She melted into his touch. Julien laid her down on the smooth tablecloth.

  She opened her legs as they dangled off the edge, letting him slide into the cradle of her hips, and he folded his body atop hers, his feet still firmly on the tile. He bent to kiss her again, deeper this time, slower, a perusal instead of the desperate need for her forgiveness. As his fingers trailed down the front of her shirt, unbuttoning it, heat surged through her.

  “You didn’t kiss Annabelle like this.” She groaned when he nipped the corner of her mouth, her nipples tingling. They were so responsive to even the slightest touch now, she almost begged him for more right then. But she waited, needing his reassurance that he loved her. That he wanted her. Not some young hussy.

  “I did not kiss Annabelle,” he said, his French accent thick over his words. It always got more prominent when he was upset, until nothing but curse words in his native tongue would flow from him. She thought it was sexy, listening to him rant in French. Tonight she wasn’t sure if she was calm enough to think it attractive or if she was still too mad to care. “She shoved herself at me. Pushed her lips against mine. I should have seen it coming. She has been terrible for days, even worse than when she walked in on us in your office. She heard of the bébé a few days ago.”

  She stilled as Julien opened the fabric of her unbuttoned shirt and splayed his wide hand against her bare belly. “Salut, mon fils.” He stood back and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her abdomen.

  “How do you know that’s your son in there? What if he’s a she?”

  “She will be mine nevertheless,” he replied, still gazing down at their unborn child as if he could see the baby. The love shining through his eyes calmed her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. It should terrify her, that kind of intensity, make her feel trapped. But all she felt was peace. He would never leave their child. And that knowledge chased away the remnants of second thoughts Annabelle had brought up. For their baby, she could let go of the doubts, the anger, and maybe even the fear.

  “Make love to me, Julien.”

  “Oh, you Americans…always in such a rush.” He shook his head, finally returning his gaze to hers, the look of love now tinged with heat and a playfulness she’d come to associate with him.

  She laughed, and he grabbed her hips, sliding her across the table toward him until her pelvis lined up with his. He thrust gently against her in a slow rhythm.

  “Mmm, well, okay, maybe we don’t have to hurry.”

  “I HADN’T PLANNED on it,” Julien said, looking down at Mandy. Those whiskey-colored eyes were filled with love and forgiveness. He wanted to shout with joy and silently vowed to apologize to her properly. After releasing his grip on her hips, he trailed his fingers up the sides of her rib cage, still amazed that his child grew just inches from his touch. He pushed the soft fabric of her light purple shirt from her shoulders and tugged it from beneath her. It dropped to the floor out of sight. He unhooked the front clasp of her bra, letting her dark breasts spring free. When he cupped them in his hands, she gasped, arching into his fingers.

  Biting his lip, he flicked her brown nipples with his thumbs, delighting in the soft moans coming from her throat. He lowered his head to her breast and licked her nipple, then pulled it into his mouth. She clutched the back of his head, her fingers tunneling into his thick hair and holding on tight, causing a sharp sting of pain.

  “Julien.” She whispered his name, and it was like a drug. He sucked hard on her nipple, leaving one hand on her left breast and reaching down with the other to cup her sex through her jeans. She cried out, jerking beneath him. He tore at the button, desperate to dip his fingers into her heat. She hooked her legs behind his back and lifted her hips so he could slide the denim away. He stood and pulled off the denim, leaving them in a pile on the floor at his feet.

  “Oh, I do adore the way you’ve taken to French lingerie,” he said.

  She laughed, the sound deep and husky. “You bought these for me.”

  He admired the lilac lace panties. “Yes, I know.” He returned his lips to her nipple.

  “God, they’re so sensitive,” she said between moans.

  He pinched the other nipple, and she screamed. “Too much?” he asked, glancing up.

  She shook her head. He slid his fingers along the outside of her lace panties and rubbed circles over and over her clit. Her body shuddered, but he held her still with his torso pressed against her abdomen, his lips locked around one nipple while he pinched and teased the other.

  He pushed the middle finger of his left hand against her clit, the lace bathed in her wet heat. He pulled hard on the nipple in his mouth, and she cried out, her body spasming again and again as she orgasmed. He released her, leaning back to catch his breath and watch the ecstasy cross her face.

  When her eyes fluttered open, she grinned.

  “Apology accepted,” she said.

  “Oh, ma belle, I was just getting started.” He laughed, stood, and tugged at his clothes. He pulled off his short-sleeved polo shirt and dropped it on the floor, quickly removing his shoes, socks, and khaki shorts as well. When he stood naked before Mandy’s approving gaze, he paused. She seemed in no hurry now.

&nbs
p; He lifted her thighs off the edge of the table and eased her panties off, then let her legs dangle over his arms as he guided his cock to her waiting entrance.

  “And you’re sure? You checked with the doctor?”

  “Yes, I called him this morning. We’ve been having sex all month long, and I was pregnant.”

  Right. He just didn’t want to do anything to hurt the baby. He couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to tell him about the pregnancy. Each day that had passed with her remaining silent after he’d found the pregnancy test had stabbed him in the chest. But he’d been determined to give her the time and space she seemed to need before letting him in.

  “Julien…come on.” She thrust her hips up, trying to urge his length inside her, and still he resisted.

  He teased the edges of her entrance with his cock, shivering at the sensation. At that first touch, Mandy thrashed, but she stilled when he pushed the head of his shaft into her. Letting her muscles clench down on the most sensitive parts of him was exquisite torture. He wanted to thrust his way home, feel her grip the full length of him. But the sensations were stronger when focused on a smaller area.

  Mandy flexed her thighs, and her inner sheath constricted around him.

  Groaning, he slammed into her. She whimpered, and he held her legs a little higher, searching for that deeper angle. He pulled back and surged forward. Her wet channel milked him with each thrust as he pounded into her again and again. He held on tightly as he drove in once, then twice more, catapulting over the edge and into the stars with his belle, Mandy.

  Chapter Six

  One year later

  “No, Ty. Absolutely not, bro. You can’t do that for me. I won’t let you,” Mandy said, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, and holding her nursing daughter. Mandy leaned back into the pillows behind her on the bed, using their soft support to help hold her up. Her legs were crossed to brace the weight of the baby. Exhaustion swamped her, yet she was sitting there arguing with her brother. Julien paced around the small bedroom, dodging baby clothes and the bouncer as he moved back and forth.

  She glanced up at his worried face, guilt gnawing at her because she’d put that look there. It had only been a year since he proposed, and she’d convinced him that planning a wedding while preparing for a baby would be a disaster. But Sophie was four months old now. She couldn’t keep putting the wedding off.

  “C’mon. Mom’s been driving us both crazy about this wedding thing. You haven’t even set a date. And I’m certainly not getting married anytime soon, so it’s gotta be you,” Tyler said, and even from three thousand miles away, she could see his grin.

  “But you’re the oldest,” she said. It was petulant but also true. He was supposed to do everything first. Go to college, get a degree, fall in love, have a baby. Only she’d gone and screwed that up. She’d been the first to finish school, though they’d both fallen in love at the same time. And she was definitely ahead in the having-babies department.

  “Honey, what’s wrong? Don’t you want to get married?”

  Her stomach bottomed out at the question. She glanced again at Julien standing at the edge of the bed where he’d finally stopped pacing. Even if Julien weren’t here, she wouldn’t have confessed her fears to her brother. She had to figure this one out on her own. She didn’t need Tyler to rescue her.

  “Yeah,” she said. But she didn’t say if she was agreeing or disagreeing with the idea that she should go first. She didn’t want to lie to him outright. The truth was, she didn’t know. She loved Julien in a way she hadn’t thought possible. But she hadn’t been looking for love. She definitely hadn’t gone in search of an engagement ring.

  Sophie relaxed in her arms, sliding into the well-sated sleep Mandy was coming to know and love. It gave her a few minutes of a break.

  She hadn’t thought she was ready for motherhood either, but here she was. The first few weeks home from the hospital had been their own kind of hell. She’d spent so long not knowing what would come next, terrified she was going to make a mistake. She’d barely made it through March. And then she’d only managed by leaning on Julien.

  His quiet strength and easy acceptance of whatever happened were the only way she’d survived some nights. Even while still taking a couple of classes to finish his degree, he’d gotten up every night to feed their daughter, doting on Mandy and their little girl. This was a guy who was built for fatherhood, and she loved him every minute for it. She was lucky to have such a dedicated man in her life. And so was Sophie.

  Maybe marriage would be the same. Scary at first, with uncertainty like a living entity inside her, but growing easier with time.

  Julien moved alongside the bed and slipped Sophie from her arms. Mandy slid her shirt down as he lifted the baby and held her gently against his shoulder. He rubbed and patted her back until the tiniest burp escaped, and then he smiled at Mandy.

  She stared into his eyes. Je t’aime, she mouthed to him.

  I love you, he mouthed back.

  “Uh, hello. Sis, you there?”

  Mandy blinked, breaking the spell of Julien’s gaze. “Yeah, sorry. I was…Never mind.”

  “Is it because you don’t want to plan the wedding with a new baby?” a female voice asked on the other end of the line.

  “Layla?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” said her brother’s girlfriend.

  Great, they were going to gang up on her. Mandy rubbed her eyes. What the hell time was it? Had she been to bed yet? She was not prepared to handle an argument like this.

  If they got Mom in on the conversation, Mandy was straight-up toast. No way could she fend off all three of them. She had to set a date. And soon. Or they’d all be flying to Paris to usher her to the altar at gunpoint. Shotgun wedding, anyone?

  “Don’t worry about it, girl. I’ll take care of everything,” Layla assured her.

  Maybe that was the problem. Mandy didn’t know the first thing about planning a wedding. She’d never really thought of the big day much, even as a kid. Her dad wouldn’t be there to walk her down the aisle.

  A wave of sadness overtook her, and she was glad for the solid bed beneath her. If she didn’t get these hormones in check real quick, she was gonna kill somebody.

  “I don’t know. It’s a lot to ask. I mean, when could you—”

  “Next month,” Layla cut her off.

  No way. That was entirely too soon. A month didn’t give her time to do anything. She had to discuss this all with Julien. They had to make an appointment at the mairie to be legally married. She didn’t know if they could get an appointment in a month.

  “The Marietta Paris is perfect for an August wedding. I’ve been there in the summer, and the gardens are gorgeous. Everything’s in full bloom. It smells terrific. It looks even better. Imagine what the pictures would be like there. They have rooms big enough to accommodate a large reception, or smaller ones for a more intimate party. Whatever you need, we could do there. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.” Layla sounded so excited. She already had half the damned wedding planned, and Mandy hadn’t agreed yet. How much worse would the wedding fever get?

  “C’mon, sis,” Ty said, replacing Layla’s voice with his deeper one. “Mom and I haven’t even been out to see the baby yet. We could do it all at once. Fly out for the week, stay at the hotel, spend time with Sophie while you and Julien work on wedding plans.” He was using Mom’s age-old trick of a guilt trip.

  He was right. That would be the easiest way to do it. But she just wasn’t ready. How could she be? She was only twenty-nine and had barely begun to live her life outside of her family before she found out she’d be starting a family of her own.

  She looked up at the hope in Julien’s eyes, and her throat clenched.

  “Okay,” she said. “Start getting things together on your end.”

  JULIEN HELD HIS breath, waiting to see if Mandy would change her mind. He’d been asking her to set a date for months, and it finally seemed as if she h
ad decided. From the start, he had feared she would say no, even though she was pregnant. He’d wanted to propose to her even before he found the test, but he knew it was too soon, that they’d only been together a few months.

  Mandy smiled, but it lacked its usual light. He rocked Sophie gently, holding her close to his heart. His little girl. She wrapped one perfect, tiny hand around his pinkie finger and sighed.

  He kissed the top of her soft black curls and listened as Mandy finished her conversation. She didn’t look as excited about the prospect of their wedding as he felt. But he knew how exhausted she was. She’d been running around the apartment for weeks before Sophie was born, nesting, apparently. She’d barely sat still or slept since the baby arrived.

  That drive to take over the world had been one of the first things he’d noticed about Mandy. One of the first things he’d loved. That, and the fact that she’d been immune to his charm from the start. No one had ever dared speak to him the way she had when he’d sauntered into her class late. Most French professors wouldn’t have said two words to any student, let alone dressed him down the way she had. Her sharp tongue and take-no-shit attitude had him instantly aroused.

  Since then, he’d seen softer sides to Mandy, especially in the throes of pregnancy. The way she’d put all her energy into loving and caring for his daughter made him love her even more. She’d never leave Sophie. Never put her needs above those of her daughter. But that kind of dedication was daunting. Was it really any wonder she didn’t want the added stress of planning a wedding? Especially one in a foreign country.

  She set the phone down.

  “Layla’s going to book us all at the Marietta Paris for next month. She said she’ll take care of everything if we want her to. All we have to do is go to the mayor’s office beforehand. Think that’s enough time?”

  He would make it enough time. Julien wouldn’t be settled until their union was official. He refused to make his father’s mistakes and let the woman he loved walk out of his life. After they were married, that would be it. Marriage was forever. If she wanted to try to leave then, she would have one hell of a fight on her hands. He wouldn’t give her up easily.