Page 119 of My French Love Affair

Jacques might be a fucking idiot, but he’smyfucking idiot, and like it or not, I always handle it.

Even when I shouldn’t.

I exhale slowly, forcing my frustration down.

I should be focusing on the race. I should be pushing Jacquesand his bullshit out of my head.

But as I glance up, my eyes scanning the crowd, they land onher.

Poppy.

She’s returned to the deck, and she’s currently seated over with her friends. Her blonde hair is catching in the breeze, the silk of her dress shifting over her skin.

She’s not looking at me, but my breath slows all the same.

The rest of the noise - the music, the people, the conversation - fades into nothing.

It’s justher.

And me.

And a pull so fucking strong, I think it might rip me apart.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Poppy

The evening air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to steady the heat still simmering beneath it.

I step onto the deck, my heartbeat still not quite right, my body still way too aware of what just happened.

I stopped in the bathroom before coming up - splashed cold water on my face, fixed my hair, did my best to wipe away any trace of him.

Not that it matters. Not when I can stillfeelhim.

The way his hands owned me.

The way his voice curled around my name like he had every right to say it like that.

The way my body gave in before my brain could even catch up.

Emma notices me first, her brows furrowing as she sways slightly, lookingfartoo pleased to see me.

“Oh,hereshe is,” she sing-songs, pointing a very wobbly finger in my direction. “Poppy, where the hell have you been?”

“Yeah, you disappeared forages,” Jas says as she cocks herhead, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What were you doing?”

I open my mouth to respond, but Emma is already gasping dramatically.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, eyes widening as she clutches my arm. “Did you fall overboard?”

I blink at her, unimpressed.

“Yes, Emma,” I deadpan. “I fell into the Mediterranean, took a quick swim, dried off, and made my way back just in time for you to interrogate me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Em. If she’d fallen overboard, she’d still bedripping,” Jas snorts.

“That’s true,” Emma nods seriously, as if this logic makes perfect sense. “Youarevery dry.”

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