Page 102 of My French Love Affair

“Then maybe,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “you should do something about it.”

When his lips crash against mine again, it’s fiercer, more desperate, as though he’s proving a point all over again. I can’t find it in me to care all that much - not when there’s some depraved part of me that wants nothing more than to be unravelled by this man.

Frederic’s large hands tighten around me, fingers biting into my skin as he pushes off the door, carrying me further into the room like I weigh nothing at all.

Suddenly, my back meets something soft.

The plush cushions of a couch.

Before I can register the change of position, his forearms brace on either side of my head, blocking the rest of the world out.

His eyes trail over me, lingering on my chest as it rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths.

“Are you always this intense?” I ask.

“You havenoidea.”

His fingers skim the hem of my dress, and I arch a brow as I pull my head slightly back, feigning nonchalance even as every nerve in my body sparks to life.

“Is this the part where you seduce me?”

He chuckles as his hand slides up my thigh, his palm warm against my bare skin.

“I don’t need to seduce you,mon ange,” he murmurs, tilting his head so that his lips graze the shell of my ear. “You weremine the second I saw you at that airport.”

My stomach flips violently at his possessive tone.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

I swallow.Hard.

“You’re wrong.”

His lips twitch.

“Liar.”

Before I can fire back, he kisses me again.

The kiss is hotter, deeper, as if he’s still trying to prove his point. I pull him closer, my hands fisting into his shirt as I drag him fully on top of me.

“You like this,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away so that he can trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. “You likeme.”

“You wish,” I counter, though the staggered rhythm of my breathing undermines my bravado.

“I do,” he agrees shamelessly, lifting his head so that those impossibly blue eyes lock onto mine. “But that’s not the point.”

I narrow my eyes. “So whatisthe point?”

“That you’re still here.”

One of his hands moves from where he’s bracing himself on the couch to my face. His fingers trail along my jaw before his thumb drags slowly over my bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to make my breath hitch.

He focuses intently as he brushes his thumb back up, nudging it between my lips.

But instead of letting him inside, I nip at it.

A sharp, teasing bite.

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