“But—”
He took his hands from his pockets and placed them on my upper arms. “And I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.”
He kissed me before I could say anything else, silencing with his lips any words of dissent I might have offered. Because there were so many I could think of—we just met two days ago, who the hell will you say I am, your family will think I’m nuts running off with a guy I just met, and… and I’m scared. I’m feeling too much here. What the hell is this between us?
But when he ran his hands up my shoulders and took my face in his palms, I wanted to melt into a puddle. He’s not ready to say goodbye either.
“Say you’ll come,” he whispered on my lips. “You’ll love it—it’s so beautiful there, and there’ll be lots of wine.”
I smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful, Lucas. But what about your family? Won’t they be mad when you show up with—”
He shook his head before I even finished the question. “They’ll be thrilled. Henri and Jean-Paul love to entertain, and my brother and his fiancée said I could bring someone. I just didn’t have anyone I wanted to bring before now.”
“What about your mom?” For some reason, the thought of meeting his movie star mother made me shiver.
Lucas noticed the chill, and folded me into his arms. “She’ll be glad to meet you, I promise. Come on—I climbed the tower for you, I danced with you, I played your song…”
I sighed, too comfortable in Lucas’s embrace. Way, way too comfortable. I wrapped my arms around his warm lower back. “I want to…”
“What’s holding you back?”
Biting my lip a moment, I decided to be honest. “I guess I’m just wondering about what all this means. I mean, we just met. My wedding was just called off, and—”
He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length and shaking me gently. “Stop thinking so much, Mia. It means we have fun together, that’s all. It means I’m really, really glad we met and I like being with you. Let’s just go to Vaucluse and have a good time, OK? No analyzing it, no deeper meaning, no worrying. Who knows, maybe after three days there, you’ll be desperate to fly back to Detroit to escape me and my family.”
I smiled. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re coming.” He squeezed my shoulders. “We’ll leave tomorrow after breakfast.”
I closed my eyes, wondering if this was a mistake but completely unable to stop myself from nodding. “OK.”
“So now the question is, what would you like to do tonight? Are you tired? Do you want me to take you back to your hotel? Do you want to come back to my apartment? You’ll need to pack, but you could do it tomorrow.”
“Whoa. Brain spinning.” God, what am I doing?
“Sorry. You’re probably not used to just being spontaneous about these things. Especially a trip.” He took my hand again and we continued walking down the stairs.
“Ha. You got that right. Before this week, I’d say there wasn’t a spontaneous bone in my body.”
“I’ll put a spontaneous bone in your body.”
I shot him a scornful look, although his comment turned me on. “Very funny. Where is Vaucluse anyway?”
“It’s in Provence. And don’t worry, everything is casual there. You might want to bring a dress for the party Saturday night, but don’t—”
“Lucas!” I grabbed his arm. “I didn’t even think about that! God, I’m totally unprepared for a trip to Provence! I don’t have the right clothes at all.”
He rolled his eyes. “Mia, if you want to go home and make a new outfit calendar right now, that’s your prerogative. But.” He pulled me to him again and slipped a hand underneath my loose top, then slid his fingers beneath the strap of my bra. “I can think of many other things I’d rather do tonight. Want to sleep over?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes. Because I do, in fact, have the perfect outfit for that.”
#
“I cannot believe how many times I’ve had sex in the last twenty-four hours.” Clad in a soft t-shirt and a pair of boxers from Lucas’s drawers, I took the new toothbrush he’d found for me out of the package and rinsed it. “It is nearly inconceivable.”
“Is that good or bad? Here.” Lucas squirted some toothpaste on my toothbrush and then his own.
“It’s good,” I said. “So, so good.”
“Glad to hear it.”
We brushed, rinsed and spit standing side by side at his bathroom sink and Lucas stood my toothbrush next to his in the holder. This is too much, too private and cozy. I feel too close to him. But I tried to play it off.
“Maybe it’s a good thing that we’ll have to slow down when we go to your family’s place,” I said, getting into bed. “I’m beginning to think I’m a fiend.”
We’d done it twice since we got home from dinner—on the couch again (at my request) and on his bedroom floor. I was amazed at Lucas’s ability to recover and do it again so soon.
“What do you mean, slow down? I’m not slowing down.” Lucas gave me a horrified look and snapped off the bedside light.
I watched him slide under the covers next to me in the moonlight. “We have to.” I propped my head in one hand. “We can’t be bonking like bunnies at the Count’s castle or whatever.” I threw my other hand in the air. “It’s uncouth!”
Lucas laughed. “Come here. I promise,” he said as I snuggled into him, “that the house is very big, and the grounds are enormous. We’ll find a way to be alone. There will be no slowing down.”
I kissed him before rolling over, putting my back to his front, and he curled an arm around my waist. It felt absurdly comfortable and almost foreign to me. Tucker wasn’t really a cuddler. Or a go-again-right-after kind of guy. And due to his aversion to bodily fluids, we’d almost never done it without a condom.
Even then, it had never felt like it had with Lucas in the shower.
Ever.
I wanted to do it again. I chewed my lower lip.
Well, you can’t do it again. It makes you think crazy things.
But was this crazy? Maybe normal people did this all the time and I just never knew it. I mean, I’d heard of vacation sex with near strangers, summer loves that you never heard from again, torrid one-night-stands…I’d just never indulged in them. I wondered if Lucas had.
I sucked both lips between my teeth to prevent myself from asking. Did I really want to know? I was torn—what if I wasn’t special?
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.
But I asked. Of course I did.
“Lucas?”
“Hmm?” His voice was already sleepy.
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Done what before?”
“Had a…” I struggled to label it. “A nonstop fuck fling for days on end.”
He laughed. “Nope. I mean, I can’t say I’ve never gone home with someone, but the nonstop thing is new for me.”
“Me too.” Relief washed over me like rain—I wasn’t just one of a string of girls to scream his name in this apartment. Repeatedly.
Then I was quiet for a minute, actually trying to count up the number of orgasms I’d had with Lucas. Holy shit, was it going on ten? That was more than I’d had with Tucker all year, probably.
And we’d never had one together. Suddenly I wanted Lucas to know that. To feel special.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
A smile crept onto my lips. “I thought the simultaneous orgasm was just a myth.”
“Then we’re even.”
I blinked. “How so?”
“I thought the gorgeous girl giving me that insane blowjob in the kitchen was a figment of my imagination. Then she did it again in the shower, so I’m beginning to think she might actually be real.”
I smiled, letting my tired eyes close. “She’s real.”
But was she? Lying there in his arms, I wondered if that was true. Was this girl here really me? Or was I acting out some sort of fantasy ver
sion of myself, indulging every whim, acting on every impulse? Was this all a reaction to being told ten days ago that my life wasn’t what I thought it was? That I couldn’t be who I thought I’d be? Maybe I was using this fantasy to avoid facing the truth—I had to start over.
Or was there more to it? Had this girl been inside me the whole time, smothered by the idea of what I thought I should be? Silenced by the fear of admitting I might be making a mistake? Revealing I wasn’t perfect? Wasn’t I relieved in part that Tucker had called off the wedding? Certainly this girl here in Paris felt more me than I’d felt in a long time.
But this still wasn’t real life.
Frowning, I snuggled deeper into the crescent of Lucas’s body. I didn’t care if it wasn’t real life.
It felt too fucking good to care.
After a breakfast of coffee, fruit, and crepes—which Lucas cooked—I went back to the hotel to pack a bag for the trip to Vaucluse. I’d convinced Lucas I could navigate my way back by Metro on my own, and even though I had to study the map for several minutes, I felt quite pleased with myself when I emerged onto the street from the Franklin D. Roosevelt station.
I didn’t even feel any shame walking into the hotel in an outfit that was obviously Last Night’s. My heels barely touched the ground as I floated through the lobby, humming a tune. It had only been about twelve hours since I’d been there, but it felt like much longer. And my room was just as spacious and beautiful as ever, but it didn’t feel as welcoming or charming to me as Lucas’s small apartment.
The message light was blinking on my phone, and I grimaced, imagining five of them from my mother, haranguing me for not calling her daily like I said I would.
Sure enough, the first three messages were from her, listing the usual litany of horrible things that could happen to a young woman traveling alone. She demanded I call her back, and she knew I’d spoken to Coco because she’d called her, too. “If you made time for her, you can take five minutes and phone me as well,” she snipped. “I’m your mother. I’m only worried about you.”
“OK, OK,” I grumbled, slipping my heels off. “I’ll call you back.”
The next message was from Erin, who had also spoken to Coco but just wanted to hear the details from me. “I can’t get over it—it’s so cool!” she bubbled. “I want the full scoop, so call me when you can. Love you!”
And the last message…was Tucker.
“Hey, Mia.”
Long pause, during which my stomach plunged five stories and went kersplat on the Avenue Montaigne.
“I just wanted to call you and…make sure you’re OK. Make sure you have everything you need at the hotel.” Big sigh. “I’m feeling…bad about the way things ended. I mean, Christ, I don’t even know if they are ended. Completely, anyway.”
Another long pause. I brought a hand to my mouth. Was he fucking serious?
He exhaled again. “I’m thinking about you, that’s all. And I was hoping to hear your voice. I don’t know where you could be at six in the morning…maybe you’re sleeping. Or maybe you got up early and went for a walk. I wonder how you liked finally seeing the Eiffel Tower after dreaming about it for so long. I wish I could have seen your face light up. I remember how we talked about shopping in the Fauborg, having a drink at The Ritz…I wonder if you’ve done it all already. Don’t hate me, but…I wish I were there.”
My hand was shaking, the receiver jittering against my ear.
“So anyway. You don’t have to call me back. But maybe we can talk when you get home. I…I need to apologize. For lots of things. Well, that’s it, I guess. I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I’m thinking about you.”
Now he wanted to be here? Now he was thinking about me? Was this a joke? My entire arm shook as I replaced the receiver, and I sat there staring at it for several minutes, my guts churning. So many things to process… He was hoping to hear my voice. He hoped I was enjoying myself. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t sure things were ended.
And he wondered where I could be at six in the morning.
In bed with someone who appreciates me, asshole!
I went into the bathroom. I wasn’t totally certain I wouldn’t throw up. I wished there was such a thing as mental vomiting, because hearing Tucker’s voice saying those things had made me so furious, I wanted to purge the experience from my head.
How dare he? How dare he ruin my perfect day by calling and reminding me of the things we were supposed to do together here? Now he thought it sounded like a good time? Fuck you, Tucker.
Why should I see him or talk to him, ever again? Did I really have to listen to him apologize for humiliating me? He’d done me a favor! My entire body was tensed, my fists clenched, my teeth grinding, my breath shallow.
“Fuck you, Tucker,” I said aloud to myself in the mirror. “You didn’t want to marry me. You didn’t want to be here with me. And you’re not. You’re not.” I forced my breathing to slow. "You’re. Not. Here.”
OK. Better.
Turning away from my reflection, I stripped off my clothes and got into the shower. As soon as the water hit my back, I was reminded of being in Lucas’s arms, steam rising around us. His tongue in my mouth. His hands in my hair. His body against mine. His cock inside me, so deep.
My shoulders and spine relaxed, and I breathed deeply, taking warm vapor into my lungs and releasing it. I flexed my hands, remembering how they felt running through Lucas’s messy curls and sliding across his back. I turned toward the spray, opened my mouth, and let the hot water stream to the back of my throat.
Eliciting another memory.
I smiled.
What’s past is past. What matters is now.
And right now, I didn’t have to think about Tucker, about whether I’d see him ever again, about whether I had to listen to an apology, about what this trip was originally supposed to be.
Because it was a million times better.
#
Lucas met me in the lobby two hours later, a folded garment bag on his shoulder, and together we took the Metro to Gare de Lyon. From there we boarded a TGV train to Avignon; Lucas had purchased two side-by-side seats in first class, and we spent the entire three-hour trip telling childhood stories and asking each other about firsts.
“First kiss.”
Lucas didn’t hesitate. “Jennifer Henkel. Ninth grade. My basement.”
I cocked my head, surprised. “You didn’t even kiss a girl until ninth grade?”
“Well, it took me until that age to be as tall as them.” He grimaced, adding, “And I copped a feel and made a mess in my pants.”
I burst out laughing, and he shuddered.
“Stop. The memory still stings. How about you?”
“Brent Adams.” I wiped tears from my eyes. “Sixth grade. Horribly embarrassing game of Spin the Bottle. No feels.”
“Probably better that way.”
“Definitely. OK…first time. You know.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively.
“Um, junior year. Hold on, I have to remember her name.”
“What?” I slapped his arm. “You can’t even remember the name of the first girl you slept with? The girl whose virginity you stole?”
“I didn’t say she was a virgin, I said I was.” He snapped his fingers. “Samantha Shields!”
“And? How was it?” I tried to picture Lucas ten years ago—what was he like then? Would he have liked me in high school? Would we have been friends, or more than that?
He smiled. “Well, I thought it was great, but I’m not sure she felt the same way. I had no idea what I was doing, and it was very, very fast. I’m not even sure I got my pants all the way off.”
I giggled. “Poor girl.” But at the mention of taking his pants off, my blood ran a little hotter. “Well, you’ve learned a lot since then.”
He closed his eyes a moment. “God, I hope so. OK, now you. First time.”
“College. I had a serious boyfriend my freshman year.”
He pursed his lips. “Name, p
lease?”
“Aidan.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “It was, you know, sweet. He kept stopping to ask if it was OK. And it was OK. But it wasn’t until my second college boyfriend that I realized what was possible.”
Lucas leaned closer. “You mean he gave you your first orgasm?” he whispered dramatically.
I leaned in too. “Yes.”
He pouted. “Damn. Here I was hoping I was the first to chart that territory.”
“Well, there have definitely been a few firsts with you, like I said. But no, sorry.” I patted his leg. “Someone beat you to that. Although not with his, you know…” I glanced down at Lucas’s crotch, which warmed my insides even further.
“No?”
“No. But Matthew was good with his hands. And he liked to talk dirty to me. I thought that was hot.”
Lucas’s eyes widened a little and he tilted his head. “You don’t say.”
I grinned mischievously. “Now you know my secret.”
“It’s a good secret to know.”
The thought of Lucas talking dirty to me combined with the way his eyes were starting to look a little hungry had me crossing my legs and squeezing them together. I had on a skirt and my thighs felt sticky. “You know, I’m wishing this train wasn’t so crowded right now.”
“Me too, princess.” He put an arm around me and whispered in my ear. “But it’s just another half hour or so. When we get to Avignon, we’ll rent a car, and maybe we’ll take the long way to the villa. I’ll fuck you with my hands, my tongue, and my cock in the back seat. And it won’t be sweet.”
Oh, God. My core muscles pulsed with heat—if I shifted in my chair the right way, I was pretty sure I could come if Lucas kept talking like that. I closed my eyes and whimpered.
Lucas continued to speak low in my ear. “Told you there would be no slowing down. In fact, you just added a whole new level to this.”
A whole new level. Fuck.
I crossed my legs the other way.
“Are you wet, princess?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
“I’m so hard right now.”
Of course I had to look. “Jesus, Lucas. You’re killing me.” My voice was barely a whisper, and I closed my eyes again. How depraved was it to have sex in a train bathroom?
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