I chuckled. I wanted to rip out my cock and take her right here, on the tree. But I let her go—for now—and said, “We’ll do more later, where your American sensibilities don’t get in the way.”
“Oui,” she said and rested her head on my chest.
I held her like she was important, because she was. For a week she was mine, and I didn’t want this to ever end.
Chapter 5
Kara
Those kisses on the train and at the studio had set my body on fire, but after two more hours in the car, my senses were dulled.
And even worse my appetite was like the gas tank—almost empty. I pressed my hand on his hard shoulder and said, “I’m starving.”
He glanced at me, and my mouth watered for more than food. No man had ever made me like this. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach from too much desire.
“We can stop for dinner and call it a night.”
A night in his bed would be heaven. Maybe then I’d somehow be able to get him out of my system. At the moment, I curled my arm around my waist and said, “Then we won’t make Monte Carlo.”
His dimple showed, and my lips tingled at the sight. “It will be there tomorrow.”
When did I become this girl? Seriously, my skin was aware of him, and he wasn’t even touching me. What would happen if we were naked?
I pressed my temples then squeezed the bridge of my nose, glancing away to get myself under control. “I’m not sure we should stop.”
He patted my knee, like I was a child. “So, you’re not hungry?”
Work. Until recently, data analysis meant I was surrounded by men in that factory. I knew better than to let my libido too much liberty, but desire diminished too, without food in my belly.
I fixed my collar to give my hands something to do.
Maybe my sisters might be right about me. Back home I’m wound too tight, trying to be perfect. I’m a middle child and perfection is what I do. Time to get out of character was what everyone said I needed. And once I realized they might be right, I met his gaze a little clearer and said, “I… it’s getting dark, and I’m hungry. Is there anything near us? Do I need to search online?”
“The sign said there are hotels at the next stop.” He pointed to the road.
I relaxed in my seat and then glanced around as we left the highway.
No big chain name hotels were waiting. Quentin had no issues following the hotel sign, and two minutes later he headed into what looked like a vineyard.
At the end of the small side road, there was a rather large house. Was this a hotel? He parked like it was, so I squared my shoulders to be confident as my feet pressed against the gravel of the parking lot. “I’m paying for the rooms.”
He grabbed the bags out of the back and carried them toward the door. “Nice try, Kara.”
His accent was almost British more than American sometimes, but my name was absolutely French and made me sigh with satisfaction. We headed for the door, and he held it open for me, though he had our two bags, when my phone beeped.
We walked to an empty desk that would be more suited for an office where he put the bags down. “Who’s texting you?”
My sisters knew the charges were pricy for Europe, and they called me on my app that had a completely different tone. So, I knew from the beep it wasn’t family, and I rolled from my toes to my heels. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not paying the charges to read it.”
He held his hand out like I’d give him my phone.
I glanced at the door where the porch light came on. Someone must be coming, and as I looked behind me at Quentin, I reached in my rear pocket for my phone. Quentin squinted at the screen. “Is Marlon your ex?”
I read the missed call screen before shoving it back in my pocket. “How did you guess?”
“Your reaction.” He motioned toward the lights coming on which probably meant someone was coming. “This is the hotel and vineyard.”
“Together?” I asked, though I understood from being outside that the smell in the air was grapes.
A pretty blonde woman with a wedding ring on her finger came over and said, “The vineyard has rooms to lend for the night.”
He took out his credit card. “Two rooms.”
So, it was just me that wanted this to be more, despite what he’d said at the museum. Probably for the best, as I know I wasn’t in my calm and controlled mindset.
A fling with Quentin made my mouth water with hope of discovering exactly what made sex so tempting.
I should call my sisters and get them to talk me back to being myself—data manager of a wine bottle factory, at least until recently, but normally I steered my team to success.
Maybe that’s why now that I’m out of touch, I want to do way more.
Or it was just how Quentin placed his hand on my lower back like I belonged to him? I said to the woman, “Your inn is super charming. I’ve never stayed on a vineyard.”
The innkeeper handed back Quentin’s card. “Let’s check you in, and you can both get a lovely dinner before it gets too dark.”
The room numbers matched. I quickly shook my head and took out my card to pay my own way. The inn keeper accepted and rang up my room separately.
Good. At least I had some control.
I took my receipt and walked with him to our rooms. He hadn’t said a word in a while, so I said, “You’re serious tonight, Quentin.”
He gave me a quizzical gaze. “Never mind me. Meet you in five?”
I kissed both of his cheeks like I’d seen chic French people do all day and slipped into my room.
I glanced at my missed call log. Marlon hadn’t left a message.
Good.
My room was small, double bed, with a white and yellow quilt and a nice view of the vineyard.
I left my bag near the door and leaned against the wall. I went into the family group chat in the app and texted where I was to my five sisters. The six of us were all we had in the world. None of us were married, and our parents had died just as the youngest had started college.
Done, I checked my cheeks and tossed my phone on the bed.
I didn’t need interruptions tonight. I unzipped my bag to grab my toothbrush and cleaned up.
Maybe being with Quentin would help me forget the world during the vacation and just forget everything else.
I’d like to know what being carefree might be like.
For once, I indulged in forgetting everything and just being with a handsome man. I’d likely never see him again once my trip ended.
I sucked in a breath and knocked on the white painted oak wood door between the rooms. “Knock, knock. Our rooms are joined.”
He opened the door then walked to the bed and zipped his bag. “Is your room acceptable?”
The connotation of those clipped phrases hadn’t sounded French or American. I raised my eyebrow. “You sound almost British with that word.”
He shrugged, moved his bag onto the floor, and joined me. My skin grew alive as he said, “I lived there for a while, and my mother is British, so my accent is probably mixed from years spent there.”
Now that was a slap in the face of a reminder that we didn’t know each other. I pushed my fingers into my pockets. “Either way, you don’t sound American.”
He pressed his hand on my back to lead me again when he asked, “Are you ready to eat?”
He’d turned cold since we left the Institut. We walked to the patio outside where there were a few wooden tables with chairs and a buffet dinner. We both scooped food onto our plate, and I have to admit, the chicken in the white sauce was tender. I took two helpings and followed him to his seat. A seating hostess left two glasses as I slipped into my chair.
“What’s going on, Quentin?” I asked.
Just then a waiter greeted us and asked if we’d like red or white wine. I pointed to the red, he poured, and left. Once we were alone, Quentin pointed to the lights in the trees around the patio and the moon that started to peek out in the dis
tance as the sun set in the other. This place was gorgeous. “My parents were married in a place like this.”
“On a vineyard?”
“Oui.” He sat back more sullenly, like he was being forced to do something he didn’t want. “I also spent most of my life on one, so seeing a running vineyard is almost like being home.”
“That sounds like a magical childhood.” While we didn’t know much about each other, I reached across the table and patted his arm. “And it’s good that you have a home to go to.”
“What about you?” he asked.
I broke the roll that I’d reached for before his question. I hadn’t known it was hard, and crumbs went everywhere. “My sisters are in a state of panic, because Marlon called off our wedding. My best friend, Sabrina’s been point person about helping me stay sane, talking me into going despite how I quit my job. Turns out this honeymoon for one has been good so far.”
His dark eyes glinted. “Why?”
Must be nice to live without others, as I guessed Mr. Wanker was alone, but I wasn’t sure. “Marlon’s parents work closely with one of my sisters. Our parents had been friends. So now I broke up some business deal and complicated her life while my own went up in smoke. Guess love created my disaster.”
“That sounds complicated.”
Compassion was good, but I shrugged it off and met his gaze. “My sisters are always fighting about something, but they all have my back, with their own strengths.”
We both ate some of our meal and drank some of the wine. As the evening wound down he said, “No one has my back.”
“I’m one of six.” I let the wine relax me. “Sabrina, my best friend since second grade, is running interference and returned my ring for me.”
“I see,” he said, and we both watched as a few of the older patrons made a makeshift dance floor and played slow French music.
I had no idea the words, but the haunting voice caught me off guard. I met his gaze and said, “Enough of me. What about you?”
He leaned closer. “I don’t have any sisters.”
“Brothers?” I asked, but his nearness made my skin jump.
He shook his head. “I’m the only child now.”
“You were totally spoiled then,” I said, though the now buzzed in my ear. Maybe his only child syndrome was why he seemed so confident to me. I had no idea what being alone was ever like, but maybe I missed a clue. I decided the now must be broken English.
“I don’t think French parents are quite the same,” he said.
My lips ached for his. I never wanted a kiss this bad, not even the first time. “You had their undivided attention as a child. I had to stand out in a crowd. Both teach you different things.”
“I suppose,” he said, and the tone in his voice made me close my eyes.
A moment later I was finally returned to bliss.
His lips on mine made me feel like I was one of those grapes on the vines needing to be plucked.
And Quentin’s touch might make me forget how I almost married a wet fish that never once made me feel… desired and special—like I finally realized how alive I was.
I had no idea the time as laughter on the dance floor continued to grow, and my lips were yummy and swollen when we stopped for air.
Quentin winked and said, “I’ll get a dessert for both of us.”
Huh? How could he walk? I was a mess. And he did have a funny strut with a cute backside.
I sipped the last of my wine and watched him.
He returned with a brownie and two forks.
Perfect. Sharing meant I didn’t get all the calories.
As he slipped back into his chair, two people followed behind him. The blonde from the check-in desk now held hands and a bottle with a nice-looking Frenchman. “Hi, I’m Chelsea, the owner, along with my husband. We’re stopping by to offer a free bottle of wine.”
“Merci,” Quentin said.
I tilted my head. This didn’t make sense in a business. Who gives away the product? “Why? We’d buy one as this glass is good.”
Chelsea said, “You two seem happy and in love.”
My face was warm, but I couldn’t let people think lies or accept gifts based on misconceptions. “Oh… We just met.”
The husband of the innkeeper said, “Well, you’re here on our anniversary, and I hope our special day brings you both romance.”
Now that made sense. I relaxed and said, “I hope your anniversary is amazing.”
And then we were alone. Quentin materialized a wine opener with his keys. Did all Frenchman carry them? I wasn’t sure, but he refilled my glass for me as I mused, “The moon is full.”
He just smiled at me, but his fingers brushed against my hand.
I scooted closer and ignored the glass. “So, that was my stupid way to invite you to come over here and let me kiss you again.” There. I’d put my offer on the table.
But he leaned closer and fixed a wisp of my hair behind my ear. “In a few minutes.”
Was I a bad kisser? I hadn’t felt anything with Marlon, but I’d rationalized it. But if he was so calm and collected, perhaps I had more issues than I wanted to admit. “What’s holding you back?”
His gaze had a twinkle when he held me close. “I’m just getting my cock under control.”
Ahh. Mr. Wanker was right here. I glanced at his pants and sipped my wine.
We watched the other couples, including the innkeeper and her husband on the floor for a song. And I didn’t dare touch Quentin.
Part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind. I was safe here. The air smelled sweet as I relaxed with my wine.
The only reason I didn’t was the small voice in my head that told me to be reasonable. One roll in a man’s bed wasn’t going to lead to a lifetime of happiness.
I wasn’t that stupid. I was heading to heartbreak city if I actually let myself fall for this handsome stranger.
As the next song came on, he stood and offered me his hand. “Come then.”
“What?” Goosebumps ran up my body.
He bowed and kissed my hand like a knight of old. “We’ll dance.”
I stood ,and he maneuvered me into his arms. “You don’t just want to head back to our rooms?” I asked.
He led me to the dance floor under the moonlight, and my entire body was awake and aware. “Dancing with you means you are in my arms.”
I glanced at the lights in the trees and laughed. When I first planned my wedding, Marlon had nixed the lights above the dance floor.
Yep, he’d been stupid. Quentin had me. All he had to do was ask. I was his, and it wasn’t the magic of the flickering lights.
My body flowed with his. “This is enchanting.”
He spun me away from the other dancers, “They don’t have vineyards where you’re from?”
I laughed. The land was shale in Pittsburgh. I shook my head. “No. I’m not from Napa Valley. I did work in a bottling factory, until recently, so I do understand the manufacturing numbers involved.”
His forehead met mine. “All of France has different grapes. We love our wines.”
And this was how I was his. Smooth hadn’t been easy for me, and he oozed this sophistication. “I understand. Our cultures are not alike.”
His lips curved into a sly smile as he said, “French women are not so forward at the beginning and then pull back after.”
I laughed, but I stayed in his arms as I asked, “If I was French, how would our meeting have been different?”
“You’d have never spoken to me on the train after you kissed me and told me to get another spot.” He trailed his hands up and down my spine.
Part of me wondered if I should just say no and let him go, but then I figured fate brought us together, and I’d never see him once the trip ended. “But then we’d not be here.”
“And you like being here?”
My lips tingled. I wanted him. I’d never stop him. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else, Quentin.”
He kisse
d my cheek and said, “You’re more intoxicating than wine tonight, Kara.”
I hugged him and wished maybe I did believe in romance and love and futures. It would be nice to be with him for more than a minute. “I need to hear this and more.”
The song ended and people clapped like we had danced well. He then traced my side and asked, “Are you done with your dinner?”
Hope surged through me. I wanted him, and my feelings were all mixed up in my simple answer. “Yes.”
“Let’s take the bottle back to our rooms,” he said, and we went to our table for the wine and glasses.
“Lead the way.”
And if he invited me into his room, I’d go. Maybe good sex was exactly what some women whispered about.
I wouldn’t know if those were lies or truths. I’d never experienced anything as earth moving as Quentin.
All he had to do was ask, but as we neared our room, he waited near mine.
I took out my key and opened it.
He then waved and went to his room, leaving me alone.
What happened to the wine? My mind raced as I wasn’t sure if anything happened now. He’d just invited me, right?
So why was I alone as I glanced at the adjoining door?
My body ricocheted with confusion. I’d have to stay right where I was until I calmed down.
Chapter 6
Quentin
Walking away from Kara was difficult. If my phone hadn’t buzzed a dozen times like there was some emergency in an ER I no longer worked at, I’d have just turned it off.
Kara’s bed waited for me. I knew I could slip her panties down her legs and remove her bra—discover what color her nipples were. As a doctor, I’d seen plenty of breasts in my day, but the question had been burned in my mind since we’d met.
Kara naked and writhing under me would be something I’d never forget and craved to get started on right away.
I scrolled through the many silent calls I’d missed, but most of them were my brother’s old friends. They must have taken the first flight out of whatever part of America they lived in.
French Wanker : A Hero Cub Novel Page 4
