38. Katherine
38
KATHERINE
Alex’s dark eyes meet mine, and a smile hovers on his lips. He’s not a smiler, my Alex. But my admission pleased him.
I’m torn. I want to see King. Hug him. Make sure, with my own eyes, that he’s okay.
But if Gabe got them a safe space to stay, away from prying eyes... My heart squeezes. I want to know the full story. I want to hug them both.
Aside from that, what am I going to do? If they’ve evacuated our building, I’d just be in the way.
“Let’s just enjoy our last few hours in Paris, and we can fly home early.” I press against his cheek. “Just not in the middle of the night. Let them sleep.”
“Okay,” he says, his voice dark and rough as his scruff. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
I know him well enough by now to decipher that sentence. He’s not planning to come back to bed.
“What about you?”
“I have some calls to make.”
I lean away from the circle of his arms and slide my hands to his shoulders. “In the middle of the night?”
I quirk an eyebrow, and his lips twitch. Gotcha.
“It’s not even bedtime on the East Coast.”
“Will it keep?” I ask, closing the distance between us.
He tips his chin up, those gorgeous eyes heating. “Perhaps.”
Holding on to him for balance, I straddle his thighs, the robe tangling around my lower body. A big hand slides along the exposed skin of my thigh, then jerks the fabric, freeing me.
“I could get some beauty sleep?—”
“You don’t need it,” he cuts in, adorably cheesy.
His sweet words set fire to my veins. Who would have thought Alexander Hunt would have such a soft spot and say such lovey-dovey things? I adore this side of him. The softer, quieter side that he shows so rarely.
“Or—” I trail my fingertips down his naked chest.
“I like where this is going.”
“Do you?” I tease? Then I lean back, acting like I’m getting up. “I could go back to bed.”
He snags a hand around the back of my neck and jerks me down into a kiss. Warm, firm lips move beneath mine, an erotic dance that has me shifting in his lap. I need to be closer. I need less fabric between us.
He’s right. This isn’t solely about sex. But when I walked out here and saw him gloriously naked, bathed in the glittering light of the city, I immediately wanted to create a few memories.
Sinking my fingers into his hair, I sweep my tongue along the seam of his lips. He groans, and his hands tighten on my thighs. I’ll never get enough of him or those masterful hands. Nor his kisses or his heat. Definitely not the way he’s always thinking about what I need and how he can make me happy.
I want to return the favor.
I will return the favor.
Sucking on his tongue, I grind against his crotch. He’s getting harder by the second, prodding the underside of my thigh.
His hands twist in the tie of my robe, yanking me down against his erection. A ragged breath escapes my lips, and I use the interruption to trail kisses along his jaw. A deeply masculine groan rumbles from his chest, and I smile, giddy. The way he never stifles himself is such a gift for my soul. And my ego. I love knowing what I do to him.
My hands coast over his muscles, and let’s be honest, it’s like touching a furnace. I slide back a few inches and continue my quest with my tongue. Down the strong column of his throat, across his collarbone.
He jerks, a breath hissing between his lips when I flick his nipple with the tip of my tongue.
“Beauty—” He growls the endearment.
I slide to the floor, grinning up at him and his magnificent cock. It’s a work of art. I glide my hands down his incredible body, so broad and honed, dusted with dark hair.
He cups the back of my head but doesn’t try to control my movement. It’s more like he needs the connection.
“Let me make you feel good.”
“You already do. Every time you smile at me.”
His words hit me deep, stealing my oxygen and overflowing my heart with all the best feelings.
“Stop distracting me with your pretty words, handsome,” I say, shooting him a teasing smile. He returns it, and I swear I start to glow from the inside out.
This man who knows the worst the world has to offer, who rarely smiles and is oh-so-serious, has found his joy. In me. In this relationship we’re building. Gulping, I duck my face, nuzzling his thigh.
His muscles flex, and his cock bobs.
“You’re the distracting one. Wrapped up in a fluffy robe, but I can still see down the front.” He reaches out and brushes the neckline over my shoulder. “I dream about your breasts. Did you know that?”
His thumb traces my collarbone, and my breathing shallows.
“All those curve-hugging dresses. The evening gowns that offer them up on a platter. They’re perfection. You’re perfection.”
My moan turns to a purr as I take his cock in hand.
So, while I was crushing on him, he was crushing on me. My mind races, wondering if either of us would have ever taken the first step.
But I shut the thoughts down because this is my reality now. And I’m not going to miss a moment.
“Thank you.”
His skin is hot and silky, straining over his flesh. Such a gorgeous picture, washed with the peach light, head tossed back. And then he pins me with a look volcanic enough to melt rubber.
I swipe my thumb through the precum gathered at the tip, luxuriating in the ability to touch him like this. At three in the morning or whenever I want to. I’m utterly spoiled.
He spreads his thighs, making room for me. I blow warm air across the tip, and he sucks in a shuddering breath.
There’s nothing like making my men needy.
All three of them have confidence in spades. Could have anyone they wanted, and they want me.
He smells like sleep and sin. My mouth waters, wanting to taste him. To feel him in my mouth, bursting across my tongue, gagging me. I’m high on power. Drunk on love. And oh-so-ready to make a new memory with him.
Tongue darting out, I lick my way around the crown of his cock, fluttering little licks that have his hips jerking. He’s trying, unsuccessfully, to guide himself into my mouth, but I’m not letting him yet. And he’s not about to force it.
He likes being teased. I can feel it in the way his body strains against the too small sofa.
The whole time, I’ve let my hands wander. Cupping his balls, sliding up his abs, teasing the sensitive spot just beneath the plump head.
When I finally take him deep, we moan together.
“Fuck!” He threads his fingers through my hair as I fight to take him deeper.
He’s so big. My lips stretch wide, and my jaw aches. I wrap a hand around the base and cup his balls with my other hand.
His hips buck, and his shaft expands between my lips. The hot spray of his cum splashes against the back of my throat, choking me. Tears well in my eyes as my body reacts, screaming against the invasion. I wasn’t ready. I’d barely begun.
My drool and his cum slide down his shaft as I lift off slowly.
Because it’s a mess and incredible and fucking naughty. He might have come, but bringing him that kind of pleasure spikes my own.
He palms the back of my head, petting my hair. “Fuck,” he says again, this time, disbelief coloring the word. “I’m sorry, Katie Bird. I’ve been so worked up.”
Smiling, I lick him clean, loving his salty flavor. I never thought I’d like it so much. But when you’re with the right person?—
“Glad I could help.”
He hooks his hands beneath my arms and hauls me back into his lap, his long cock trapped between us. With a hand cupping my cheek, he steals a kiss. I rock against him, wrapping around him as best I can. He can be the tree, and I’ll be the koala.
His tongue swipes my lower lip, and I shudder, opening immediately and sinking into the kiss. This gives a new meaning to French kissing. Deep, breath-stealing, lighting every nerve ending on fire.
Finally, when we’re both starving for air, he pulls back but tips his forehead against mine.
“If that was helping, I’m going to need more help for the rest of my life.”
Seriously, he can’t keep saying stuff like that to me. A girl could get used to it.
???
An hour later and after a shower, we’re dressed and strolling to the Seine. There’s an early morning bustle as the city wakes. Lights flicker on around us, and the scent of dough is heavy in the air. My mouth waters because even though New York makes the best bagels, there’s nothing like a fresh croissant from a corner cafe in Paris.
Alex’s men keep a reasonable distance. I don’t. I cling to his arm, staying as close as public decency allows. But this is the city of love. Paris is accustomed to lovers.
Playing tourist with Alex is magical. No one cares who we are. The media has left us alone. No one follows us down the street with their phone out, recording us or peppering us with questions.
“Thank you for this,” I say, not for the first time on this trip. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to get away.”
“Any time, Katie Bird.”
I press a kiss against his bicep. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
I try to remember the last time I was able to depend on anyone the way I can with him. Steadfast. Solid.
“I do.” He pauses beneath the canopy of a tree right in the middle of the sidewalk. After a quick glance around, he meets my gaze. “You woke me up, Katherine. Reminded me that life is for living. I was just existing for far too long.”
I squeeze his fingers, heat rushing up the back of my neck at the fierce praise. “I don’t want to exist ,” I whisper.
Without that auction, I’d still be on the hamster wheel, running for my life and never getting anywhere. I cling tighter because the idea of missing out on this is physically painful. My stomach sours and my nose stings with unshed tears.
Now that I’ve felt this way, whole and calm and like I belong, I wish that for everyone. I wish I could feel it forever.
“I want to live.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and offers me another smile. “Me too.”
“I want to live with you. And Gabe and Kingston. I want to make memories and feel so happy I could burst every single day.” The truth swells up and pours out of me. It’s wild and new and crazy. Like seriously the craziest thing I’ve ever admitted, but it’s true. And it doesn’t matter about the timeline because I realize now that everything happened just as it should have, right on time.
My stomach growls, and I laugh.
“Come on. Let’s feed you.” He wraps his arm around my waist, and I do the same.
We stop in a barely open shop. If I could bottle up the scent of this place, I would.
“Bonjour,” I greet the woman behind the counter. Then, I order our breakfast and espresso for Alex. Un Café au Lait for me.
Outside, we pick a cozy table.
“I love it when you order for me,” he admits, arranging his chair so he’s next to me. With an arm draped over the backrest, I snuggle in close and sip my coffee.
His admission surprises me. In my experience, men don’t like admitting they don’t know something. Or that they can’t do everything themselves. Grandfather would have had an aneurism if I’d ordered for him.
But this is Alex, and he’s a world apart from my grandfather.
“You do?”
“Yeah. It’s sexy.”
Did I mention I’m glowing?
If only we could just forget about going home. Gabe and King could join us here, and this dream wouldn’t have to end.
“What are you thinking about right now?” He nibbles at his croissant, and the scent of buttery-starchy goodness makes my mouth water.
“That I don’t want to go home. Gabe and King could meet us here.”
“You’d have to teach us French,” he says without missing a beat.
“My pleasure.”
We eat in blissful silence for several moments. I drain my coffee and brush the crumbs from my lap. “Earlier, when I said I wanted to live with you, I meant live . Not cohabitate or whatever.” I wave a hand, rambling. Unease prickles the back of my neck.
Why isn’t he saying anything?
He finishes his coffee and sets his cup aside. Then he hooks my chin with the tip of his finger, staring deep into my eyes. The air shifts between us, heavy with anticipation.
“I know what you meant, Beauty. And I certainly don’t mind the other way either.”
“Really?” This all still seems so new and fast.
“Why does that surprise you?”
I huff a laugh and lift a brow, dislodging his finger. “You’re a confirmed bachelor.”
“I was.” He glances at the little bistro table. “Let’s walk along the river.”
With my hand in his, strolling to the Seine, I absorb everything. The uneven stones beneath my feet, the voices coming from the shops, even the wind in the trees. I don’t want to forget a thing.
I’d like to bottle this moment. This single, perfect moment where I feel loved and in love. Where the expectations are quiet and so are my doubts. Like I might just burst from the happiness expanding inside me.
What a way to go.
We find a bench away from prying eyes. “What do you think the guys are doing right now?”
“If I know Gabe, he’s probably on the phone looking for answers about what happened to the building and when he can get back inside.”
I’d forgotten about the flood. My cheeks burn. “I should call King.”
“Before you do, I got you something.” He leans to the side and fishes something out of his pants pocket.
My heart lifts at the small box.