She folds her arms, as her calm blue eyes morph into skeptical ones. “Then tell me your favorite line.” She raises her chin as if her question somehow raises thebar.
“From the movie?” Istammer.
Eyes squinted, she says, “Yep,” with a purposeful pop on theP.
I can’t help but smirk, knowing what I’m about to say may very well melt her heartandher panties. Even though I doubt she’s wearing any under thatshirt.
I clear my throat, preparing to speak in a low growled tone. “You don’t need a man, you need achampion.”
Thirty minutes later,after Lauren practically ripped my shorts off, peeled her shirt off, eased onto my lap, and rode us both into orgasmic paradise, we, once again, sit on the couch, now breathless, our naked bodies under the throw. I point the remote to the TV and begin another movie search as she nibbles onpopcorn.
“Hey,” she says, “how about we watchit?”
“Watchwhat?”
“Eat Pray Love.Duh.”
I laugh. “Greatidea.”
We watch the movie and nibble on popcorn, still very much cozy-naked under the blanket. I stroke her hair; she rubs my leg. She rests her head on my shoulder. I pull her in close. Then a thought pops in myhead.
“Why do you hate flowers andcandy?”
She picks up the remote and pauses the movie as if she’s preparing us for an in depth convo. She looks at the ceiling, then pins those heart-stopping eyes back on me. “Flowers and candy aren’t forever. Sure, flowers are pretty and candy tastes good. But then they’regone. Why would a man give the woman he loves something that’ll die or be eaten then forgotten? If a man gifts, he should gift something that means forever. I wantforever.”
I pull her back next to me, and rub her neck andshoulder.
Then I kiss her softly on the forehead and whisper, “Duly noted,sweetheart.”
Our blissful weekendcomes and goes faster than a Paris rain shower. We pranced around the villa like we were on our honeymoon. Loving. Sexing.Romancing.
And I feelglorious.
Waking up with her in my arms, makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. And yes, I know that’s a cliché, but this is a fucking clichémoment.
And now that it’s Monday, we part for the day, as I drop her off at HC Headquarters. She’s got loads of work left to do for themagazine.
“I’ll pick you up later, babe. Call me if you need anything,” Isay.
She frowns. “Jaxson, I really don’t want to go back homeyet.”
I run my thumb along her cheek. “I know, you can stay with me as long as you needto.”
“But my clothes, Truffles’toys—”
“What can I do tohelp?”
Her face brightens. “Would you mind going toChateau De Grenelle, to pick up a few things for me? I’ll text you a list of what I need. I’m pretty organized so you should find everything withease.”
Without hesitation I say yes and then Lauren hands me the keys. “Thank you, sweetie. I lo”—she pauses—“I appreciateit.”
Did I almost hear anI loveyou?
“You’re welcome.” I lean in and kiss her. “Anything foryou.”
Then I watch her prance into the building, her body making me internally screamhey, don’t leaveyet.
Yep, I’mfalling.
