Page 97 of My French Love Affair

Or…disappointment?

No. That’s ridiculous.

I shake my head, scolding myself for whatever the hellthisis, and move forward, my heels clicking softly against the dark wood floor as I enter a hallway lined with sleek, closed doors.

Finally. Surely a bathroom has to be down here somewhere.

I trail my fingers along the smooth wall, glancing at the elegant brass handles, debating which door to try first. I reach for one -

And before I can even react, a strong hand wraps around my wrist.

Warm. Firm.

Unrelenting.

A sharp gasp catches in my throat, but before the sound can escape, another hand clamps over my mouth, effectively silencing me.

My pulse slams against my ribs as I’m pulled firm and fast through an open doorway, the world tilting as I stumble backwards.

The door clicks shut behind us, trapping me in sudden, suffocating silence.

Heat. Strength.

Him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Frederic

Caught you.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Poppy

My front slams against the surface of the door, my breath leaving me in a sharp exhale as a solid body presses firmly against my back.

His strong grip tightens around my wrist - not painful, but firm,possessive- while his other hand stays pressed over my mouth.

The heat of his palm seeps into my skin, his fingers splayed wide, controlling and unwavering. My shallow breaths hit against his hand, warm and uneven, the sound muffled and trapped between us.

I freeze, every nerve in my body buzzing, my pulse hammering beneath his touch.

My mind scrambles for clarity, for logic, for anything other than the visceral reaction currently flooding my body.

I don’t know who it is.

I do.

I should be afraid.

I’m not.

Because even in the blur of adrenaline, even with my visionswimming and my nerves on fire, I know.

I know from the heat radiating off him, from the firm grip that isn’t rough, but still unchallenged.

From the scent - clean, sharp, laced with cedar and citrus, expensive and infuriatingly familiar.

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