26 Hours in Paris

by Demi Alex

  “We have time to spare? Don’t you have meetings or something?”

  “I cleared my schedule for the day. I’m completely available to you. You can tell me all about your research.”

  * * *

  Kathryn touched the chiseled line of his jaw, and forced herself to breathe. The years had been so freaking good to him. His hair was dark and combed back from his strong forehead. The planes of his face had settled into a very masculine profile and taut muscles filled his tall frame, but thankfully, his intoxicating fresh scent had remained.

  “Thank you,” she said, trailing her fingers down his broad shoulder and reveling in the feel of his hard muscles. “Sounds perfect.”

  Screw the wall she’d built around her heart. She’d jumped over it before she’d left JFK. Making the decision to be with him, even if only for a day, released the fist squeezing her insides. What was a broken heart in the midst of everything he offered?

  Scared but unable to resist, she conceded to what she truly desired, added a time limit, and pasted on a sultry smile. She could do this.

  Glad for the added height her new boots afforded, she stretched the remaining inches to his mouth and placed her lips on his. “I’m so looking forward to spending time with you, my not-just-a-friend person,” she whispered.

  “Moi aussi,” he replied, wrapping his arm around her waist and once again pulling her against his warmth. He possessed her mouth in a long, slow, and addictive kiss, leaving no room for retreat, only a craving for more of what he offered.

  Her body hummed and her mind grew fuzzy. Heat seeped through her coat and warmed her chest, causing her nipples to pebble and strain against the lace bra she wore. Marko’s obvious need pushed at her belly. She ached for him to take her and show her exactly how much he’d missed her. Kathryn had dreamed of him, of being his, and if she didn’t accept his terms, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life. She had one day with the man of her heart in a city of love.

  There was nothing she wanted more than to mix business with pleasure this time out. She’d have her twenty-six hours in Paris.

  Unable to quench the thirst, her tongue swept through his mouth, and she lost herself in his kiss, alone in the sea of people at Arrivals. Her legs went weak, and he held her upright and crushed her against him.

  “You get your twenty-four hours in Paris. The additional two are all mine.” He pulled back and looked at her, a wicked pledge in his dark eyes. “I promise those will be the best two hours of our lives.”

  Moisture pooled at her core and she squeezed her thighs tight. Marko always kept his promises.

  “Let’s get this day started,” he said, tucking her against his side and moving toward the exit.

  Chapter Five

  Damp cold whipped past Kathryn’s coat, and she shuddered as she moved closer to Marko. He set his body against the wind, shielding her from the chill, and raised a long arm for an approaching Mercedes.

  The driver immediately brought the vehicle to where they stood and exited the car, but Marko waved him off and reached for the door himself. He helped her inside, unbuttoned his coat, and followed behind her. She scooted to the seat on the far side, admiring the smooth way his body folded into the luxury car. The man sent a different kind of shiver through her body.

  “Come here,” he said, holding open the dark wool and gathering her against his side. “You’ll be warm in a few minutes.” He instructed the driver in French, and a stream of hot air surged from the vents. The privacy partition rose, and he curved a large arm around her.

  She didn’t speak; rather, she snuggled against him, folded her hands, and fit them beneath his suit jacket and on his chest. Dropping a kiss atop her head, he tightened his hold.

  “Today was one of the coldest mornings of the season. I’m afraid it’s because of the wind chill.” With one hand, he rubbed up and down the length of her back, warming her. With the other, he covered her clasped hands and held them over his heart. “They’re forecasting a warm-up by noon. The wind is supposed to die down and the sun will be strong. It’s the perfect day to take in the sights. Are you comfortable now?”

  “I’m good,” she replied. “And I’m not worried about later. Anytime you’re around, I’m warm.”

  “Really?” There was a note of surprise in his voice. “Why is that, bella?”

  “I think your body temperature naturally runs high.” She closed her eyes and inhaled his familiar scent. She was mentally transported back to a fall night on the beach, before exams. “Whenever I was cold, I’d snuggle against you and instantly get warm.”

  They’d been cramming for midterms when they’d decided on a late-night visit to the ocean as a study break. Sitting on a low wall, they’d talked and drunk coffee from Styrofoam cups. The wind had picked up and spurred Kat to rummage through the trunk of the car for a sweatshirt. She’d pulled it on and returned to find Marko sitting on the sand, patting the space between his outstretched legs.

  “Come here,” he’d said. Same words, same sentiment. He’d taken off the sweater he always ended up giving her when she was cold and added it to her layers. Then, settling her between his legs, he’d pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms over her body, and fit his hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt . . . beneath his sweater.

  Kathryn sighed and opened her eyes. “I still have the sweater. It’s a bit tattered and frayed on the sleeves, but it still looks good.” She’d swear it even still smelled like him.

  He chuckled and rubbed the back of her hand. “It always looked better on you than on me.” His lips brushed her forehead. “I liked seeing it on you,” he added, placing a finger beneath her chin and turning her face up toward his. “I liked everything about you. I still do.”

  The cold was no longer an issue. Heat tingled inside of her and her heart raced. “We shared the best of times and some pretty tough ones,” she said. “You were always there for me when I needed you. I never thanked you for that. I don’t think I could have gotten through that Christmas in the hospital if it wasn’t for you. To this day, I hate hospitals. Every short beep I hear reminds me of the machines that breathed for my dad. Every antiseptic smell turns my stomach. If it wasn’t for you, I would have fallen apart.”

  “You didn’t,” he insisted. “You were incredibly brave. You took care of your mother, and you both made it past those dark days. Your father would have been very proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, pushing the heel of her palm into her tummy. “You were my strength.” She fell silent and, once the sadness passed, a smile curved her lips. “We also had great times together. Late nights in the library, walks on the quad, Thursday-night parties. They were special. Do you remember?”

  “I remember,” he said. “We even watched the nightly news snuggled against each other on your bed, with your sweet body testing my control every time.”

  “Well, we did have some times when we gave in to the temptation,” she reminded him. “Those were the best days of my life. I wouldn’t change a minute of our past—”

  “I would. I wouldn’t have let—”

  She placed a finger over his lips and shook her head. “I loved every minute I spent with you.” Being with him had been as natural as breathing. “You were this stuck-up and all-knowing grad student that got under my skin from the start. The way you were so opinionated and had something to say about every policy or change we came across. The way you made me feel when you looked at me and smiled. How you appeared each time I needed you. Everything.”

  “I recall a rather argumentative and very liberal undergrad egging me on.”

  She laughed, remembering how fun it had been to tease him and play with him. “I knew that, beyond any doubt, I could count on your support and friendship. I really value that.” She feathered her fingers over his jaw and smiled, truly regretting that she’d never fit into his privileged life. Despite Marko’s insistence to introduce her to his family, she’d never felt comfortable with the idea. She
simply didn’t bring enough to the table to have his parents accept her. And he was real tight with his family. “But even with such a special past, I need to stay in the present. I’ve worked hard to overcome obstacles and finally embark on a dream career. I’m in Paris. I’m with you. I simply want to savor today. I really want today, Marko.”

  “I want you. You,” he said, a challenge in his gaze. “All of you.”

  She recognized the look. Anticipation fluttered in her belly and her breasts grew heavy with need. She wasn’t the girl on the beach who had shied away from the same challenge in the past. She was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted Marko Renard.

  “I want you, too,” she replied, angling her face for a kiss.

  * * *

  “Dieu merci,” Marko breathed, cupping her nape and lowering his lips. It hadn’t been his intention to ravage her in the car, but he wasn’t about to wait a second longer to claim her. He tangled his fingers in the dark, silky strands of her hair and held her tight. The woman’s moan was his undoing. He knew it. And he welcomed it with the zeal of a starved man sitting down to a feast.

  He worked each button of her coat until the heavy material fell open. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Very,” she replied, undoing his tie, then dropping her hands to his belt buckle.

  Pleased to find the black sheath disrupted by her show of arousal at the nipples, he smiled. “I like the outfit. Too bad it’s not going to last for long.”

  He pulled her onto his lap, and in a fluid motion pushed the dress up past her hips so she could straddle him with ease. There was so much of her he wanted to experience, to worship, and he wanted it all immediately.

  Lace garters held sheer stockings, and a black silk triangle covered the apex at the top of her gorgeous thighs. His cock ached to burrow inside her, but he insisted on pleasing her first. Holding her gaze, his hands smoothed beneath her dress and over her soft skin to her breasts. Moving his thumbs over the erect nipples in tiny circles, he waited for her to settle against his touch.

  “Breathe,” he commanded.

  She released a breath and her body sank against him, his erection straining toward the heat she offered.

  “You’re so beautiful, bella.”

  She touched his face and lowered her mouth to his lips. Slowly sweeping her tongue across the seam, she tortured his control.

  “I hadn’t planned on taking you like this. Flowers, champagne, and a big bed had been on my mind. But that can wait,” he said, pushing her coat off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “You’re sure it’s warm enough in here?”

  “At the moment, it’s a heat wave.” She smiled and shoved his jacket off his shoulders and freed his shirt from his pants. “Aren’t you warm?”

  Instinctively, his hands moved to the hem stretching across her hips and exposing the black silk he wanted gone. “Feverish,” he admitted.

  Marko lifted the dress over her head, marveling at the wonderful response each brush of his fingers elicited. Kissing the trail of goose bumps that surfaced, he savored the feel of her skin beneath his tongue and cherished the slow grind of her hips against his groin. Tasting her sweetness, his hunger grew. Her scent filled his senses and intoxicated his mind.

  “Are you sure you’re warm enough?” he asked, fighting to hold on to his last ounce of reason.

  “Burning,” she breathed, seemingly surfacing from a sensual haze and rising on her knees to offer him her breasts. Gorgeous, full breasts, tipped with the most tempting nipples, and promising to taste better than a gourmet meal.

  His fingers gripped the curves of her hips, holding her up while she unbuttoned his trousers. She took him in her hand and stroked from the base to the tip of his cock.

  “I’m healthy and I’m protected,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Do we need anything else?”

  Damn, she was an angel.

  “Just you,” he managed, suckling one nipple and rolling the other between his thumb and finger. “This isn’t going to be slow, bella.”

  “Who said anything about slow?” she replied, peeling back the silk panties and positioning him at her entrance.

  A trimmed dark crown adorned her beautiful pussy, and he ran a finger through the soft curls. She was hot as fire and dripping with need.

  Tempted, but determined, he stilled her hips from descending onto him. He fisted the base of his throbbing erection and guided himself along her folds to the bundle of exquisite nerves at the top. As he circled her clit with the head of his cock, she coated him with her moisture and threw her head back to expose more of her throat. His mouth claimed the delicious skin, and his excitement swelled at the thought of his mark on her neck.

  “Don’t come before I ask you to. Hold it, Kat. First, I’ll have your pleasure, then you’ll have me.”

  His fingers replaced his erection, and he spread her swollen folds to gain more access. He loved the sound of the strained whimpers coming from her lips and the way a pretty pink blush spread over her body, but mostly he rejoiced in the pleading gaze she gave him.

  Kat rode his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm and sighing with ecstasy when he pushed first one, then a second, finger into her tight channel. He stretched and prepared her, reaching for that special spot that had her panting for release. The manner in which her tongue wet her lips almost had him losing his patience, but the frenzy of need in her expression maintained his resolve to feel her unravel more than once. There was no way he’d be able to hold back if she came undone around his cock. The simple thought had it weeping for deep contact.

  “Tell me,” he rasped, stroking deep inside her. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “Yours,” she breathed, squirming close, and breathing heavy. “All yours.”

  “Come,” he commanded, sliding a third finger inside her and urging a climax with his final thrust.

  Her pussy convulsed and cream coated his hand as her orgasm claimed her and she called his name. She collapsed against his chest.

  He drew her against him and kissed her shoulder, closing his eyes and fitting his hand between them to position his cock at her opening. “Now, we do it again. Together this time.”

  He lifted off the seat and buried himself in her heaven. He stilled, balls deep, held her down against him, and allowed her time to adjust as he took her mouth and was lost.

  Each thrust had him swelling a little more, and he reached deeper and harder until her breath grew erratic and her pussy gripped him with volatile pressure.

  “I can’t hold this one,” she cried, looking into his eyes, and then letting her head drop back as her climax grew and her control slipped.

  He caressed the top of her womb, and when she cried out with pleasure, he filled her with a blessed release.

  Marko dropped his face to the curve of Kat’s neck, and breathed in the essence of his angel.

  Entangled in each other’s arms, they rode in sated silence on the motorway until the driver rang Marko’s phone and announced they were ten minutes out.

  Resting his chin on her head, he rubbed her back. “We still on for Les Deux Magots, or would you rather we go home first?”

  She looked up and smiled. “Are you kidding? I’m starving.”

  He laughed and lifted her off his lap, gently depositing her on the seat beside him. “And you want to be where Hemingway and Picasso once sat.”

  “Exactly,” she said, reaching into the tote for her makeup bag.

  “No need,” he said, cupping her face and tracing his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “You are so beautiful the way you are.”

  She tossed the bag back into her tote and leaned down for her dress.

  “Let me,” he said, taking the dress from her hands and dropping a soft kiss on her lips. “Welcome to Paris, bella.”

  Chapter Six

  Dressed and composed, Kat accepted Marko’s hand and stepped from the privacy of the car. She welcomed his possessive hold when he closed his fingers over hers and fold
ed his arm behind his lower back, keeping her snug against him as she turned and admired architecture and history she’d pictured in her mind’s eye for years.

  She listened to his authoritative tone instructing the driver in French, but wasn’t in the least bit concerned about what he said. Marko would take care of everything and she could actually take in the splendor that surrounded them. She could enjoy the experience without worries. The realization that she’d left Kathryn behind and accepted the remaining twenty-five hours as Marko’s Kat filled her with a sense of empowerment, strength, freedom, and joy. She inhaled the cool air and smiled. Before her stood the oldest church in Paris.

  “I’ve dreamed of this place,” she said aloud, snaking her hands around him and leaning her chin on his broad shoulder. “This is really it. The bustling spirit and grandeur of Saint-Germain-des-Près.”

  “Up until a few centuries ago, the Abbey owned the majority of land on the Left Bank. Right to the Seine. It’s survived fire, war, and so much more. As you know, artists and intellectuals from all walks of life have always flocked to Paris. This is where your Hemingway and Picasso gathered in the cafés. These are the streets you had pictured on your walls in school,” he said, gathering her in his embrace and pointing beyond the massive boulevard and tourist traffic.

  “Can we walk from here to the Seine after breakfast?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. “Anything you want, bella.” He turned for the infamous café with the white and green canopy, her hand once again tucked against his warm body. “You’ll love the old bookstores and quaint shops.”

  Kat moved toward a table beneath a propane heater, but Marko insisted the glass-enclosed terrace afforded the same views and wouldn’t disappoint. He led her past the café patrons sitting outside.

  “It offers needed shelter from the wind,” he explained.

  Without an objection, she followed and sat at a small table in the corner. They didn’t speak, simply sat together and looked out the window at the pedestrian traffic. It took no time for a middle-aged waiter to approach and take their order with brisk efficiency. Marko ordered their drinks and suggested an omelet for her. She agreed and the waiter jotted the order on a tiny pad, gave a curt nod, then maneuvered over the suitcase at the neighboring table with an explicit phrase on his narrow lips.