Page 34 of Once Bitten

Chapter Fourteen

I could tell you that I didn’t fall in love with Paris and, by extension, Finn, (or maybe it was the other way around), but it would be the biggest lie I’d tell in my life.

From the moment I stepped out of the car and onto the Avenue de Georges V, in front of the Four Seasons hotel, I was like a teenager in love, or a kid in a candy shop, or any other cliché you can think of to describe complete and utter adoration.

Swept up in a world that was only of my most hidden desires, I fell head first into the most decadent week of my life.

Finn, it turned out, was practically a local. A well-known local. A well-loved local.

“Mr. O’Reilly!” The hotel manager came down to greet him as soon as we’d made it to the reception desk. “How long will you be staying this time?”

“A week, José, and it is Ms Sinclair’s first time here.”

“Ah, first time at the Four Seasons, madam? We will try to make your stay as perfect as it can be.”

“No, it’s my first time to Paris.” I answered shyly, intimidated by this luxurious world and the elegant people in it.

“Mais non! Where have you been all this time?” Jose teased me, making me feel 8 years old, hiding behind Finn.

“My usual room, please, and the adjoining one if possible. If not, then any two connecting rooms is fine.”

“No, you stay in…” I started, not wanting to put him out.

He hushed me with a look and a wink. “I need to be close by, I can’t let you go running amuck here, who knows what trouble you’d get up to.”

My body shivered when he said the word ‘close’, was I ever going to be numb to his proximity?

He took the keys and led me to the elevators, his hand pressing firm but gently on the small of my back. Every time he was close, every time a part of his body touched mine, I wanted to moan from the hot burning need that boiled just under the surface. One night with Finn had made me crave him like nothing before. I cleared my throat and tried to move away, finding respite from the heat of his body, focusing on the stunning hotel.

I had been to beautiful homes and hotels with Larry, the benefit of travelling with a company VP, but he was often frugal when it came to expensing our travel and stayed in comfortable but modest places if it was on the company dime. There had been nothing like the Four Seasons. Ever. And I wondered if it was possible to just die of happiness here.

***

If my eyes could orgasm, they would’ve shivered in their sockets when Finn led me into the living room joining our suites. It was wall to ceiling luxury, the carpet looked like it should be hanging in the Louvre, the pastel blue palette carried through from the furniture to the wall hangings. Finn came in behind me, chuckling as he tucked his hand under my chin, closing my mouth.

“Careful, they have flies here too.”

“No, Finn I don’t think they do. But if they are, can I come back as one in my next life time? Sheesh, talk about the fancy fly life.”

He threw his had back and laughed. I couldn’t help but smile, I had a lot of memories of him growing up, mostly of me just sitting back and adoring him from afar, but not many of them were of him laughing. I dared to hope that being with me now had some part of it.

I playfully pushed his hand away, regretting it immediately, the skin where he had touched tingled with yearning.

The door bell rang and saved me from doing something stupid.

“Entrez,” he called out, walking towards the door.

“Bonjour, Monsieur O’Reilly, how would like me to arrange the bags?” The bellman asked, and I disappeared into my bedroom.

I giggled out of sheer joy on seeing the king size bed with the jacquard bed linens, framed by hanging curtains on the wall. I could hear Finn in the other room and I took the risk of being seen and ran up to the bed flopping down on it and feeling myself sink deep into its comfortable, delicious, cloudy folds.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Like it?” Finn spoke from the foot of the bed.

“I can’t hear you. I’m busy turning into a Parisian socialite turning her nose up at everything.” I adopted a fake French accent, “and zhou, zhou eez joost a poor peazant. Not

wurzee of speeking to me.” I waved my hand as if dismissing him. “Ooof!”