Page 99 of My French Love Affair

"That’s not -" My voice comes out weaker than I’d like, and I clear my throat, straightening my spine against the door. "That’s not how I’m looking at you."

"No?"

"No," I say, attempting to sound firm. "I’m looking at you like you’re invading my personal space.Again."

He hums, unconvinced. "You’d push me away if you really wanted to."

"Maybe I’m just considering my options."

"Take your time,mon ange," he muses, tilting his head slightly. "I can wait.”

His eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up. Slow. Calculated.

The heat between us is thick, charged.

“You’re one to talk about being able to wait, given that you justabductedme.”

His lips twitch, but I’m not so sure that there’s any real humour in it.

“In my defence, you called me a stalker first.”

“Because youareone,” I grit out.

But my voice isn’t nearly as steady as I want it to be.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

He moves, closing the last sliver of space between us and pressing himself fully against me, his body a wall of heat and strength as he pins me against the door.

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

Every inch of my body is thrumming with awareness. His presence iseverywhere, his scent - clean, expensive, intoxicating - seeping into my lungs, his closeness making my skin burn.

I hate it.

I hate itso much.

Frederic exhales, his lips parting slightly as his warm breath fans across my skin. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, but there’s something else there now - something taut and restrained, like he’s holding himself back with the last shred of control he has left.

His gaze flickers over my face, dark and searching, and as I look right back up at him, it’s like something inside him snaps.

His head dips, brushing his nose against mine.

A taunt. A test.

One of his hands drops away from the surface of the door and comes to rest on my hip. His fingers tighten at my waist, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles over the thin fabric of my dress.

It’s barely anything - a whisper of touch, really - but my body is traitorous. My breath catches, my skin prickling with awareness.

He’s so close.Tooclose.

But I don’t move. I don’t pull away.

And he notices.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs, voice low, rough and thick.

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