Page 101 of My French Love Affair

Ishouldtell him to go to hell and never look back.

But I don’t.

Instead, I do something far,farworse.

I rise onto my toes and I tilt my chin up, my lips a breath from his.

And as the tip of my nose brushes against his, I whisper, “then don’t be.”

Chapter Thirty

Poppy

The second the words leave my lips, something inside Frederic seems to snap.

A deep, guttural sound escapes him - somewhere between a growl and a groan - and then he’s on me.

His mouth crashes against mine, searing,claiming, and there’s nothing slow about it. It’s all heat and fire, tension snapping like a rubber band stretched too tight for too long.

His hands grip my waist roughly, fingers digging in like he’s making sure I’m real, like he’s making sure I can’t slip away again. I respond instinctively, fisting my hands into the fabric of his shirt as he presses me harder against the door, pinning me there completely with his body.

Logically, I know it should feel wrong. Stifling. Overwhelming, even.

Instead, it’sintoxicating.

"You haveno idea," he murmurs against my lips, his voice tinged with something possessive, "how long I’ve wanted to do this."

I shiver, my fingers curling tighter into his shirt as his lipsleave mine, trailing down my jaw.

"Then why did you wait?" I gasp, tipping my head back to offer him more access.

“Because,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin, “I knew the second I touched you like this, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

His grip on my hip tightens as his lips ghost over mine again. I lean into him, chasing him, but he pulls back just in time.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

Likehell.

I tug him closer, dragging him down until my lips meet his with a desperation I can’t ignore. He groans against my mouth, something raw and almost tortured.

And then he takes over.

His hands skim down my sides before gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as he pins me harder against the door. His hands slide lower, his fingers tightening around the curve of my ass as he hoists me up, effectively forcing my legs to wrap around his waist.

"Frederic -"

I can feel every inch of him, every hard, lean muscle pressing against me, and my breath stutters. My body is trapped between the solid wood of the door and the solid strength of him, and he knows it.

Hefeelsit.

“Still want me to leave you alone?” he teases.

I narrow my eyes, trying -and failing- to hold onto any semblance of control.

“I still think you talk too much,” I tell him, my voice slightlyhoarse.

He chuckles.

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