Page 157 of My French Love Affair

A gasp catches in my throat, but it’s swallowed instantly as Frederic crushes his mouth against mine. His kiss is hungry, filled with nothing but heat and desperation, and I can barely breathe, my skin flushed as his tongue sweeps against mine, deepening the kiss until I’m fully at his mercy.

And I don’tcare.

I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care that this is reckless and incredibly risky.

I just want more.

Ineedmore.

My fingers tug in his hair, causing him to growl against my lips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Do you haveanyidea what you’re doing to me?”

Ido, and I fuckingloveit.

His hands slide lower, gripping my ass as he rocks me against him again, his breath hot against my skin. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and dramatic though it may be, I swear I might die if he stops.

"You want to play games, Poppy?"

His voice is a low murmur against my skin as his lips brush my pulse.

"I wasn’t playing," I manage, my voice breathless.

My heart pounds as he pushes me down onto his lap harder,making me feel every inch of his cock right against my core, and Frederic lets out a quiet, dark chuckle, his mouth ghosting over the sensitive skin beneath my jaw.

"No? Then what do you callthis?"

He rocks his hips up, his grip tightening in response to the gasp that escapes me.

I grip to his shoulders for balance, my nails biting into the crisp fabric of his shirt as he repeats the movement, drawing another strangled sound from my throat.

"That’s what I thought," he murmurs.

Every brush of his hands, every slow, deliberate shift of his hips sends pleasure surging through me, and I’m sure I’ll lose my mind if he doesn’t do something about it soon.

"Freddie," I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for, only knowing I need more.

His hands squeeze at my thighs as he smirks knowingly.

"What is it,mon ange?"

"I hate you," I say weakly, though there’s no venom behind it.

I don’t mean it. Not anymore.

He grins against my mouth as though he can read my mind.

"No, you don’t."

I don’t get the chance to argue.

His tongue sweeps against mine as he kisses me again, fully stealing the air from my lungs.

His fingertips dip below the hem of my dress and dig into my flesh like he wants to leave his mark, and I let out a quiet, desperate whimper, instinctively dragging my body against his in one slow, agonising movement.

"You make me insane," he mutters against my lips, his voice raw with frustration.

"You’re not exactly easy on me, either."

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