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She had no idea what that was, but it obviously paid well if this apartment was anything to go by. “That sounds good.”
“How about your parents? What do they do?”
His family was obviously normal. If she told him the truth about hers, he would stop thinking she was incredible.
“My mum is an office manager. She works for a bunch of lawyers. She’s just married again.” It was a part truth. Her life was full of part truths. Hiding a chunk of your life led to a type of isolation that was hard to describe. The fact that no one really knew her created a particularly acute brand of loneliness.
“You have a stepdad? Does he beat you?”
The thought of Ron beating anyone made her smile. “No. He’s pretty cool, in fact. I bet your parents have been married forever.”
“Yes, but that’s enough boring talk about parents.” He pulled the coffee mug out of her hand and put it on the bedside table. “I don’t want to think about my parents just before I do all the things I’m planning to do to you.”
“I was drinking that!” She squealed with laughter as he tumbled her back on the bed. “What’s the time?”
“I don’t know. I’m a lazy student, remember? I never look at the time in the mornings.”
“But I’m supposed to be working.” This close she could see the pinpricks of dark stubble on his jaw and the sleepiness of his eyes as he smiled into hers. She felt the weight of him, pressing down on her, the roughness of his thigh against hers. Her heart kicked against her chest and desire almost punched the breath from her body.
She’d never done this before. Never laughed during sex. Never woken up in someone else’s bed feeling as if she belonged there. Sex had always been its own thing for her. Never part of something else. She’d never been held. Never nestled and nuzzled. It felt good.
He lowered his head to hers, and his kiss was so gentle she wanted to cry. He didn’t make it all about him. He took time to find out the stuff she liked, too. It wasn’t just about passion; it was about feeling.
He murmured something in French, coaxed her mouth open with his and deepened the kiss. It made her dizzy, the taste of him, the erotic slide of his tongue against hers.
His hands were sure and skilled, so different from the inept fumbling she’d experienced before. Etienne didn’t rush. He didn’t want to just “do it” and then get the hell out so that he could boast to his friends.
“I like you.” He kissed her jaw and her neck. “I like you a lot.”
It made her feel special to hear him say it.
She ignored the fact that he didn’t know her. Did anyone ever know anyone? She knew for a fact there was a ton of stuff Ron didn’t know about her mum.
“I like you, too.” It felt a little weird to say it aloud. What did it mean exactly? Like wasn’t love. It was way too soon for love.
But like was nice. It felt special.
He shifted
above her. “Am I too heavy?”
“No.” She liked it. She like feeling him. He was a hard, muscular barrier between herself and life.
Afterward, she fell asleep again and woke disorientated and panicking.
Sun spilled through the window so she knew it was late. “Shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?” She reached for her phone and swore again. “I’m late. I’m totally stuffed. Fuck—I mean darn.”
“Darn?” Etienne yawned. “‘Shit’ I know, and also ‘fuck,’ but what is this darn?”
“Darn. You know—oh, never mind.” She scrambled out of bed, grabbing her clothes.
Etienne levered himself up on his elbows, watching her from the bed with sleepy eyes. “You can use my shower if you like.”
“No time. I’m already late. I’m going to lose my job. If I lose my job, I lose my apartment.” How could she have been so stupid?
“You could move in here, with me.”
“Don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves.” She dragged on her dress. She’d felt pretty in it the night before. Now it felt wrinkled and wrong. Her heels were too high to suffer a walk over the cobbled streets. How could she have lost track of the time? How long would it take her to get back to the bookshop from here? She didn’t even know exactly where she was.
