Page 105 of Ice To Meet You

She giggled, nudging me with her elbow. “I’m only experimenting. Estelle has offered to fly Iris and I to Switzerland to get some work done. Neither of us would go, of course, but I was wondering how I’d end up looking.”

Estelle du Comtois, Luc’s grandmother, was known for herlove of health spas and her flamboyant clothes. I shook my head, staring into the window alongside Esmé. “I love you, and I’d never stop you from doing anything you want, but if you ever change your face, there’ll be dire consequences. And…,” I kissed her pink cheek, “I’d much rather you did anyexperimentingwith me along for the ride.”

Esmé removed her hands, and her face dropped into its usual natural beauty. She turned to face me. “That’s fighting talk.”

“Not really, unless fighting’s the kind of experimenting you had in mind. You’d look great in boxing gloves and a pair of tiny shorts.”

Esmé tipped her head, offering me the swathe of creamy skin at her neck. I obliged, pressing my lips into her. “But I love you just the way you are. You’re beautiful and if you so much as go near a scalpel, I’ll go and live in that Alpine monastery Marianne Rossi is so keen to visit.”

She turned to me, her eyes wide with delight. “You wouldn’t.”

I quirked a brow at her. “I might. I could commit myself to a life of silent squirrel-keeping. You never know. I might obtain Nirvana while I'm there.”

She giggled. Though Marianne and Alessandro had eventually invested in the new gallery, Marianne remained a slightly irritating thorn in Esmé’s side. There was rarely a day when we didn’t hear from her.

Es ran her hand over my chest. Under her fingers, the cool fabric of my shirt dragged over my skin, sending a shiver straight to my trousers.

“Are you saying I don’t deliver you to Nirvana?” Her voice was husky and low.

I pulled her close, my fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “Every single time. But I’ll be honest—I’m a little worriedyou’ll wear me out. Maybe one of those old monasteries has a secret spring of eternal youth. I might need it.”

Our lips hovered millimetres apart as I pressed into her. She glanced down, then shook her head with a sigh. “Not this morning. If we don’t get a move on, we’ll be dealing with eternal drama—not eternal youth.”

“One kiss?” I whispered.

The corners of her lips bowed upward. “Just one.”She leaned into me, but stopped short, widening her eyes. “That's not monks.”

“What isn’t?” I ground out, wishing we could forget about monastic life and focus on enjoying each other.

“Nirvana. That’s Buddhism.”

I pulled my brows, a smirk on my lips. “No, that’s no good. I don’t have the right skin tone for orange robes.”

She wrinkled her nose, batting my chest playfully.

“Careful,” I whispered. “That's assault. I’ll set my squirrels on you.”

This time she grinned, and it set the very depths of my soul afire. I loved her so much.

Our lips met, and I breathed her in, curling my tongue around hers and running my hands a little higher up her thighs. Being here right now—with Esmé pressed close against my body—was all the nirvana I could ever ask for.

Our kiss deepened and Esmé let out a quiet moan, running her hands over my buttocks. But as a low clunk sounded behind us, she pulled away, looking over my shoulder.

“Was that the door?”

I brought my lips to her collarbone. “I don’t care.”

“But I do. I haven’t finished the flowers and there’s so many people coming to the opening. Your grandfather’s put the word out far and wide. It’s going to be busier than St. Mark's Square in summer.”

I chuckled. “I hope it’ll be a little less smelly than Venice.”

I kissed along her collarbone, willing her to come back to me. But when there was a definite scrape of something on the floor, she grasped my buttocks in a vice-like grip.

“No. There’s definitely someone at the front.”

She pulled away from me, smoothing her dress. When she was happy the pleats were in place, she stared at my groin. “What about you?”

I followed her gaze to the solid bulge at my fly.

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