Eh, fuck it!I nod slowly, quivering breathlessly.I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
He cups my chin, pulling me closer until there’s no space left for doubt.His delicate lips meet mine, kissing me gently at first, then more eagerly.
My hands instinctively weave through his hair, fingers tangling in the dark tousled strands—something I’ve craved since the very first moment we met.
His lips move to my neck, then to my ear, nibbling on the lobe as he whispers, “Should we take this to my bedroom?”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod.He scoops me off the counter and takes me into his room.
* * *
My eyes flutter open.I’m in Luca’s bed.I must have fallen asleep.
The room is dark, but I know behind the blackout curtains, daylight is begging to break through.I’m certain it’s still early in the day.The events of our morning unfold in my memories like a sweet dream.
Luca.
I stretch my hand across the bed, my fingers searching for him, but instead of finding him, my fingers brush against a note resting on his pillow.
The man loves leaving notes.
Naked, I wrap a blanket around myself and reach back for the crisp sheet of paper.Tossing my legs over the bedside, I tiptoe across the cold, wooden floor, the boards letting out soft moans as I move through the room.With a deep breath, I pull apart the heavy, velvety curtains, allowing the daylight to flood in, illuminating every corner.I hold the note up to read Luca’s words.
Jemma,
I didn’t want to wake you as you looked so peaceful.I had to step out for a bit.I promise we’ll finish making the cookies when I get back.
Luca
I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.What could be more important than lying in bed next to me, especially after the fiery moment we just shared?I anxiously tug at the blanket wrapped around me, wondering if I made a huge mistake.
ChapterTwenty-Three
JEMMA
He’s up and gone before me again, just like the last four days.I always thought Parisians took their time—joie de vivreand all.I know he doesn’t have to work, so where does he go?When I ask him about it, he simply says he has things to do.I don’t press him because I know the French are private.
But come on, dude!You can’t have “cookie time”—that’s what I’ve been calling our little bedroom escapade—and then pretend our passionate moment never happened.
Ugh!Seriously, every time I think of it, I go red in the cheeks and get a bit lightheaded, but then the frustration creeps in, ruining it.
I feel like his roommate.His pal.Good ol’ buddy Jemma, just hanging around.Sure, we see each other in passing, but there’s no playful touching, no sweet kisses in the kitchen.Nothing!
So much for being perfect.
I have my own schedule, and he has his.But I’m not going to let that stop me.I’m in Paris, and I’ve got a list to check off.
Seriously, I have a real handwritten list, from ...you guessed it.Luca.On Monday morning, I woke to find a checklist of sights—for your blog—it read.
See, it’s things like this that keep me wanting him.He can be thoughtful and attentive when the mood strikes.I still don’t know about the whole blog idea, but the list has come in handy.
So far, I’ve toured the Louvre, Musée de l’Orangerie, and the Musée d’Orsay, with the d’Orsay being my favorite, especially the fifth floor with the Impressionists.I spent hours soaking in the works of Monet, Degas, and Renoir.One painting,Bal du moulin de la Galette,held me captive for what felt like an eternity, transporting me to another time.
Most days, it’s been gloomy, with an afternoon shower.I’ve been hoping for snow, but it’s yet to be seen.I wish it would snow before I leave.I’d love to see this magical city blanketed in white.
On another note, I’m quite proud of myself for mastering the metro system.I even got myself a reloadable Navigo pass with my photo and everything.I feel like a local when I pull it out and give it a swipe.
Plus, the metro is so much more efficient than the New York Subway system, and quite frankly, much cleaner.The downside is that it gets just as packed during rush hours, but I’ve figured out how to plan my days around that.
