Page 104 of My French Love Affair

"That’s what I thought."

Frederic’s grip on my thighs tightens, his fingers pressing in with a force that borders on proprietorial. His hands shift, pushing my dress higher, his fingers tracing the bare skin of my waist.

“You drive me insane,chérie,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost strained. “All that fucking attitude, and forwhat?”

A choked gasp escapes my lips before I can even attempt to stop it.

“There she is,” he breathes, pure arrogance as his thumb strokes over my hip. “Finally giving in?”

Flushed and breathless, I glare at him.

"Not a chance."

“You’re so stubborn,” he muses, shifting just enough to bring his face level with mine, his blue eyes burning into me. “But tell me,Poppy…”

His fingers trail lower once more, leaving heat in their wake and causing my hips to buck instinctively.

“Would you really be gripping me like this if you didn’t want it?”

He kisses me again - hungry, bruising,possessive -almost like he’s daring me to pretend this doesn’t mean something. But as his lips work over mine, I force myself to remember who I am - whoheis.

This arrogant, insufferable man who has done nothing but torment me since the moment we met.

"I’m starting to think this has been your plan all along,Freddie," I purr, leaning back enough to break our kiss. "All that teasing… was it just to get me under you?"

Frederic growls - a sound deep and primal that vibrates deliciously against my skin - and then suddenly, my wrists are pinned above my head, his grip firm and unyielding.

"Believe me," he murmurs, his tone edged with amusement. "You’ve had my attention since the second you stole my car."

I scoff and shift beneath him, but he doesn't budge.

“And now, I have you exactly where I want you," he adds. "No more running from me, Poppy.No more pretending you don’t want this."

His free hand slides beneath the hem of my dress, fingers teasing the lace of my underwear, but I amnotletting him win this easily.

"Who saysI'mdone pretending?"

Frederic chuckles darkly, his fingers pressing just a little harder against me.

"Me."

His fingers hook into the delicate lace of my underwear, shifting it to the side, and my breath catches.

The warmth of his touch combined with the sheer confidence in his every movement sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through me as the cool air meets my slick, wet core.

He strokes two fingers over me, brushing them repeatedly up and down the length of my slit. I suck in a breath, my legs instinctively opening further around his waist.

"Look at you. All of those protests, and yet you’re still so eager to spread your legs for me.”

I clench my jaw, wanting nothing more than to hold onto my last shred of dignity, to pretend I’m not completely unraveling beneath him; but I know there’s no way I can hold myself together as burning heat courses through me from head to toe.

"You fight so hard, Poppy," he muses, his fingers pointed as he drags them from my entrance right to the hood of my clit, barely grazing over me there before sliding back down again in a smooth, devastating stroke. "Butwhy?"

Frederic presses his forehead to mine, his breath heavy, his voice deceptively soft.

"Why, when you like it when I take control?"

My pulse is a wild, erratic thing, and I swear that my clit literally thrums in synchronisation with it as my abdomen clenches tightly. My hands slide from around my back to his front, and I dig my fingers into his shirt, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer.

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