Page 158 of My French Love Affair

"Good,” he smirks, brushing his nose against mine. “I mean it, though. You make it impossible to behave."

"Thendon’t."

One of his hands slides up in a smooth, quick motion, and he grips the back of my neck as he tilts my head and kisses me.

I barely register the way his grip shifts - one firm palm sliding down to my hip, guiding me, encouraging me to move against him, and I comply without thinking, rolling my hips in perfect rhythm with his.

The friction of the seam of his pants brushing over my clit through my panties is utter bliss, and it sends wave after wave of heat rushing through me.

I swear I could orgasm from this alone.

"Fuck," he mutters against my lips, his forehead pressing against mine for the briefest second. His breath is ragged, his control fraying. "You’re such a fucking tease."

I grin, breathless. "I learned from the best."

His jaw clenches, his fingers flexing against my skin, and then - before I know what’s happening - his hand grips my chin, tilting my face back up to his.

"Careful," he warns, his voice rough, strained. "You’re playing with fire."

I smirk against his mouth, my fingers threading into his hair.

"Then burn me."

His control is slipping. I can feel it in the tension coiled beneath his skin, in the way his muscles flex under my touch.

But the friction between us is unbearable, and my clit pulses in agony as I grind down against him, desperate for something I can’t even name.

“You’re a fuckingmenace,” he mutters, and I whimper, my fingers tugging lightly at his hair. “And this is a really fucking bad idea.”

I bite my lip, fighting back a smile.

“But you like bad ideas,” I whisper.

He curses, his hand flexing against my upper thigh. I arch up slightly, and as my lips brush against his, I just know that I’ve won.

“Freddie.”

His restraint was hanging by a thread -

And as his head tips back, exposing the sharp cut of his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, I think I’ve just cut it.

Fuck.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more devastatingly attractive in my life.

His other hand moves to cup the back of my neck, tilting my head just so before his mouth finds mine again. Our kiss is a collision of tongues, of sharp inhales and muffled moans and the kind of frantic, all-consuming urgency that makes my entire body burn as his hand slides higher and higher until his fingertipsfinallygraze the lace of my panties.

I gasp, breaking away, and his eyes lock on to mine.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Something wrong?”

His fingers press down, and a sharp, uncontrollable whimperescapes me.

Oh.

Oh,fuck.

“You tell me,” I manage, breathless, my entire body trembling. “You’re the one about to make me come in afucking restaurant.”

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