Caught Up in Us(52)

Maybe you could say I was selfish. Maybe you could say I was stupid. Maybe you could wonder why I didn’t wait five more weeks.

All of that and more was true.

But I ceased caring. I stopped reasoning. I tossed the rules out the window and threw caution into the river Seine because I was in Paris with the only man I’d ever loved.

I felt fluttery, twitchy, agitated. I didn’t know if it was fear or desire. Either way, there was no turning back. I was going there with Bryan, going to wherever we were going. I didn’t feel guilty, I didn’t feel naughty, I didn’t feel wrong. I stepped into our future as I broke the kiss. “Take me to your hotel room.”

I’d never seen a man hail a cab so fast in his life.





*****





The taxi slowed down for a light on the rue de Rivoli. I peered ahead, noting the clogged street in front of us, the boulevard packed with cars. We wouldn’t reach the W for another ten minutes at this rate, so I closed the scratched-up partition that separated us from the driver.

“It’s like you can read my mind,” Bryan said, and returned for a deeper kiss. But I wanted more than kissing and he knew it. He moved his hand across my leg, his fingers dancing down to my inner thigh. I opened my legs a little bit, an inch or two, enough to let him know to keep going.

He didn’t stop kissing me as he traced the outside of my panties. He’d always made me weak in the knees with his lips alone; now it was like double or triple the pleasure with his kisses and his hand. As I tasted the soft underside of his lips, he dipped his hand inside my panties, first pressing on my pubic bone, then making his way between my legs. He kissed me softly, while his fingers explored me, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, always the right way. I barely moved for the next few minutes, except to subtly push against his hand as his fingers glided over me and inside me and around me. He traced me lightly at first, then harder, pressing down in all the right places, savoring how much my body wanted him.

“Please don’t stop touching me.”

“I have no intention of stopping.”

He’d been a pro on the phone, narrating and guiding me, and bringing me to orgasm with words alone. He was even better in person, his hands like magic hands that knew how to make me moan, or sigh, or cry out as his fingers grazed across me, then narrowed in on the one place I wanted him most.

“Keep touching me like that. I want to be kissing you while I come.”

His hungry lips devoured me as he stroked me. My insides were lava, and my body ached for all of him. I wanted to fall away from his mouth, so I could moan, so I could sigh, so I could breathe heavily and say his name. But he kept kissing me, even as my lips fumbled at his, and I writhed, my breaths coming faster. He zeroed in and I bit gently into his lip, managing to gasp out the words I’m coming, as I finally let go of his lips.

I shuddered, and clasped his hand against me. I stayed there, basking in the aftershocks of the most intense pleasure, of the way the boy I’d fallen for, the man I loved, had brought me to this state. “You didn’t stop kissing me the whole time and there I was, coming while you were kissing me. It was like my two favorite things at the same time.”

“Good. Because there’s a lot more on the menu tonight,” he said, as the taxi pulled up to the hotel and Bryan handed several bills to the driver. He made a brief stop at the front desk and then we stepped into a waiting elevator. As the doors closed, he placed his hand on the small of my back. We made it to the fourth floor, down the hall, and to his room. He slid the card key in the door, and once inside, I tore off my coat, and he tossed off his jacket.

His room was heavenly, with a gorgeous gilded mirror and antique nightstands. French windows, fittingly, led to a balcony. But I had little interest in the surroundings when there was a king size bed with a soft, white, down comforter that called my name. I longed to be naked on it, with my legs wrapped around Bryan.

He stood behind me and ran his hands along my arms. He reached my hands, clasping my fingers in his and whispered in my ear. “Do you have any idea how much I want to make love to you right now?”

“How much?”

“More than I have ever wanted anything before.” He swept my hair from my neck and kissed me there, sending tingles of insane pleasure down my spine. I understood the meaning of the word swoon — I had become the very definition. He walked me to the bed, and laid me down, then pulled off my boots. He ran his hands up the inside of my legs. Every touch thrilled me. Every second of contact sent me higher.

“You have far too many clothes on, Kat.”

“Take them off. Take them all off.”