Biting my lip, I remove my hand, but he quickly pulls it back. This is the first time that he has voluntarily let me touch everypart of him—not only with my hands, but also with my mind and body. He’s letting me reach parts of him that I never have before. I feel we have crossed a line. He’s finally letting me in.
“Where? I haven’t seen it, and I’ve seen you…” I pause, feeling ridiculous in my shyness.
“You’ve seen me what, Gemma?”
“Naked. I’ve seen you naked.”
He waggles his brows. “So it would seem.”
“Are you going to tell me?” I ask, wondering where on earth it can be. I look over his arms and across his chest. They skate over his rigid abs and softening cock. Nope, there’s not a tattoo in sight.
“Always full of questions,” he muses as he plays with the ends of my hair.
“And you are always deflecting them.”
“I find that the less I say to journalists, the less I have to worry about.”
I narrow my eyes at him, hating that he has mentioned my profession.
“But when I look at you, I no longer see a journalist,” he adds thoughtfully.
I don’t know why, but this confession pleases me. I feel my heart start to flutter in my chest.
“What do you see?” I ask. I’m curious, as always.
He reaches out and brushes my nipple with his finger. “I see me, I see her, and I see you. When I look at you, Gemma, I seeus.”
Moving in close, I ask again, “Where is it, Phillipe?”
His beautiful green eyes slide closed, and he rolls onto his stomach. Across the top of his back in script is:The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.
I trace the words with my fingertip before I place my lips to his skin.How have I not seen this before?
Well, the answer is simple, really. He never wanted to show me.
In the silence that surrounds us, he lies facedown on the mattress with me pressed close to his skin. I finally feel that he has let me in. He has shown me a truth, and now, I havevision.
Twenty-Three
CONFESSION
Day 18
AS I STAND in the shower with my eyes shut the next morning, I think back to the night before. Phillipe let me stay all night. He pulled me in close and held me steady as I listened to his heartbeat.Thump, thump, thump.
The steady rhythm lulled me to sleep while my mind played trick after trick on me. One moment we were alone, and the next I swore I could see haunted gray eyes staring at me. As I lay there, I squeezed him tight and vowed nothing could make me leave.
Running my hands through my hair, I try to understand where my head is. The only problem is that it’s becoming more difficult with every passing hour and every disappearing day.
I have an article to write first and foremost, but my want and need to touch and be touched by this man is pushing that aside. I’m starting to discover a part of myself that I didn’t know existed.
Drive, desire, passion—these are all things I know I possess. They are what got me to the chateau in the first place. I have pushed myself to succeed and be recognized in this competitivefield. But now?Now, as I’m standing here with the water washing over my aching body after an intense night, I don’t know where I begin and he ends. I have no idea which side of me—journalist or woman—will win.
Either way, I need to get up to that studio. I have questions—from the journalistandthe woman—that I want answered.
Phillipe wakes up as soon as Gemma slips from his bed. The sheets automatically cool as she dresses in silence. She picks up the journal right before leaving his room during the early hours of dawn.
As he is lying there alone and in complete silence, he tries to hearher. He waits for a sign that she is there with him, but nothing comes.
