Page 113 of My French Love Affair

I groan, smacking his shoulder, and helaughs- a deep, satisfied, obnoxiously smug sound.

And,god help me, I almost want him all over again.

“You know,” I tell him, my body still humming from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “If I had known you’d be that good, I would have let you win our first argument.”

He lifts his head just enough to smirk, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on my thigh.

“Liar.”

I roll my eyes, nudging his shoulder.

“Smug.”

His grin widens, his lips brushing over mine, soft this time.

“Mine.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Poppy

For a few lingering moments, neither of us moves.

Our breathing is still uneven, our bodies still tangled, our skin still slick from the intensity of what just happened.

Frederic's weight is warm and heavy against me, his chest rising and falling in time with mine. One of his hands rests on my hip, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against my skin, while his other arm is stretched above my head, caging me in even though there's no fight left in me right now.

I stare at the ceiling, letting my heartbeat gradually slow, willing myself to not think too much, to just stay in this bubble for a second longer.

But then, inevitably, it happens.

The awareness creeps in. Theoh my god, what the fuck did I just do?thought pushes its way through the bliss, settling in the pit of my stomach like a weight.

My limbs go stiff, my mind snapping back to reality with startling clarity.

Whatwasthat?

I mean, obviously, I know what that was -

It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.

It was raw, intense, and overwhelming in a way that makes my toes curl just thinking about it.

But why did I let it happen?

I swallow, shifting slightly beneath him, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

Frederic notices instantly. He exhales, a low hum of satisfaction, before pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to my bare shoulder.

“Stay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin, his voice dangerously soft.

My stomach flips, but my brain is screaming at me to get a grip.

We stay like that for a few more minutes, and then we are suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door handle ratting.

We both look towards it, and my heart races.

I don’t even recall him locking it, but thank goodness he did. The thought didn’t so much as cross my mind.

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