Page 73 of City of Love

His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

I nod slowly. “All right,” I say, my heart sinking. “But if you’re going to reject me, I’d prefer you look me in the eye while you do.”

He winces, and his eyes finally open. His gaze finds mine. “I’m wrong for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, looking pained. His arms tighten around me as he goes on. “And I don’t know the first thing about how to be in a successful relationship. You deserve so much more than I could—”

“No,” I say, cutting him off and shaking my head. My words are brimming with the fire that’s suddenly coursing through my veins, and my fingers curl more tightly into his hair. “No. You’re going to have to do better than that. You don’t get to decide what I deserve. Relationships aren’t about what anyonedeserves. How can they be? Humans aren’t static beings; we’re constantly changing. It’s about what you’re willing to work for. All that matters is that you’re willing to try—”

But he suddenly pulls me so tightly to him that I lose my breath, and the next thing I know, his lips are colliding with mine.

Noel Marchand kisses like he does everything else: fiercely, possessively, completely in control. His lips slant over mine with a ferocity that until now I’ve only seen hints of—if his gaze simmers with heat, his kiss blazes unrestrainedly. Because it isn’t just a kiss; it’s a claiming. My heartbeat, my breath—they belong to him now.

And he belongs to me. I can feel it in the way he responds to my touch—the way his fingers clench at my waist as I give his hair a little tug, the way he growls low in his throat when I deepen the kiss. His hands move to my face, gentle yet firm, tilting my head to find better access. Each touch of his lips to mine obliterates everything Marcus has said—that no one would ever want me. Because Noel wants me. There’s no denying it. His entire frame is curled possessively around me, and I could happily stay here forever.

But seemingly at the same time, we force ourselves apart; maybe we’ve both run out of breath at the same time, or maybe we can just tell that it’s time to slow down. Noel lets his forehead drop against mine, and for a moment we just rest, our breaths mingling as we steady ourselves.

After a second of regaining our composure, Noel speaks.

“I knew if I opened my eyes that I was going to kiss you.” He smiles softly at me. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

I smile, too. “Well, I’ve only been here for…what, like two weeks? So you can’t have been waiting that long.”

His smile widens, and a hint of mischief enters his eyes. “The day we went to the jewelry place—”

“Also known as the day you were acting extra sketchy.”

He nods, grinning. “That’s the one. You used my shampoo when you showered, but you used your cinnamon soap—you smelled like this intoxicating blend of the two of us, and you’re already so beautiful…” He trails off, shaking his head. “And then I found myself looking at your lips, completely confused and disconcerted about what I was feeling.”

I tilt my head back and laugh. “I remember that,” I say. “You were frowning at my lips like they’d offended you.”

Before he can respond, his phone begins beeping.

“Mince,” he says, digging it out of his pocket. He pushes one hand through his hair before looking at me regretfully. “I have to go to work. Will you be all right here, or do you want me to take you back to my parents’ place?”

I shake my head. “I might just take a nap here. We can go back when you get off work, if that’s all right?”

He nods. “That’s fine.” Then, before I see it coming, he presses another quick kiss to my lips, followed by a kiss on the tip of my nose and another on my forehead. “Sleep well,chérie,” he says softly. “I’ll see you tonight. And lock the door after me, please.”

“I will,” I say, smiling at him. Because really, I just can’t stop smiling. Not even after he leaves, nor once I’ve laid down on the supremely uncomfortable couch.

Marcus was wrong. He said no one but him would ever want me, but he was wrong. My smile only widens as this thought passes through my mind, and with a sudden jolt of realization, I sit back up.

Marcus was wrong about this, and he was wrong about everything else, too. He wants me to be scared of him, but I refuse to be afraid. I’m ready. I am a fearless queen. I’m going to go to Mlle Hilliard and tell her what Marcus has been doing.

It’s time.

Chapter 22

Noel

Ibarely even recall getting to work. I’m walking on clouds, floating, and I can say with certainty that all the clichés about love are true. Whether this is love, I don’t know, but after that kiss I really do feel like I’m flying. It’s bizarre and slightly disconcerting, but I couldn’t talk myself down if I tried.

I’ve kissed a fair amount of women in my twenty-one years, all with different experience levels. I’ve kissed beautiful women and less-than-beautiful women. I’ve kissed kind women and less-than-kind women. And, yes, I’ve kissed fantastic kissers and less-than-fantastic kissers.

But none of those women compare to Lydia. Not one. And none of those kisses compare to Lydia’s kiss. Because how could anyone else compete with a kiss that I can only describe as a communing of souls? Her soft body pressed against mine, her hands in my hair, that little sound she made when we deepened the kiss…an intoxicating communion of souls. To call it anything less would be an injustice.

I arrive at work an hour before we open, and the time seems to inch along. My shift is only four hours, but that’s four hours I could be spending with Lydia. All I can think is that she’s at my flat right now, waiting for me. She’s on my couch, on mybed—

No, I tell myself, taking a deep, steadying breath.Don’t think about Lydia in your bed. That’s asking for trouble.

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