Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Kyle had never been happier to wake up with someone’s hand resting across his face.
Madison’s hand.
He eased away and turned onto his side, feeling a surge of love for the woman spread out next to him, taking up much of the bed. She slept like she lived. Bold. Passionate. Undeniable.
Last night, he’d discovered she loved the same way. Once they’d decided they were going for it, that was that. They’d crushed their lips together, ripped off each other’s clothes, and barely made it to the bed, only to feast on the melting ice cream.
Spoon optional, as Madison had wickedly said.
Laughing from pleasure as much as a sugar high, they’d gotten tangled up in the sheets with the delicious scent of cinnamon and vanilla on their skin. The rest of the night had been a roller coaster of passion, discovery, and connection he’d never experienced before.
God, what a night.
She was sleeping so deeply her breath was audible.
They’d finally called it when she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
Now her black hair lay in wild tufts, stark against the white pillow.
He imagined his hair didn’t look much tidier—not that he cared.
She liked having her hands in his hair, and he sure as hell liked it too.
“Any idea what time it is?” she murmured sleepily.
“Nope,” he simply answered, giving in to the urge to nibble the line of flesh connecting her collarbone to her arm.
“Any idea what the weather’s like?” she followed up, eyes still closed.
“Not a clue.”
“That’s what I thought. Zombies could have taken over Paris, shuffling around with someone’s leg in one hand and a croissant in the other, and we wouldn’t know.”
“You’re so funny.” He kissed his way up to her neck and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I didn’t know you like zombies.”
“What’s not to like? They cause havoc and eat people’s brains. Some people could use having their brains sucked out. I’ve always figured they’d provide an important community service.”
He slid closer, inhaling the intoxicating smell of warm, sleepy woman.
Ten years from now when they were celebrating this anniversary, he was going to sweetly recall how he’d woken up with her hand across his face, surrounded by the scents of cinnamon and vanilla and them, and she’d talked about zombies.
“Is it any wonder I’m insanely in love with you?” he murmured, kissing the underside of her jaw.
“You got laid last night—insanity pretty much defined everything we did.” She finally turned on her side to face him, meeting his gaze with her golden eyes. “The ice cream was an inspired addition.”
“Glad you liked it.” He wrapped his arm around her, testing the morning waters, but she stayed put, all warm, willing woman, looking at him with that directness he enjoyed.
“Definitely one of your best ideas, and you have tons.” She rubbed the five o’clock shadow on his face. “I like this scruff. You look even sexier than you did last night when I walked into the Romance Shrine.”
He chuckled at her description. Setting up said shrine had given him some worried moments.
He’d wondered if the candles would freak her out, or if she’d think everything was too cheesy.
But he’d still wanted to do it. Candles might not be her love language yet, but ice cream shipped over the pond clearly was.
“We can light more tonight if you’d like. ”
Her laughter was infectious as she pressed her face into the pillow and shook her head. “I feared I’d catch on fire as I passed by them since I’d squirted on too much perfume.”
He crinkled his nose playfully. “I’d wondered what had happened there.”
“Lesson learned. Me and perfume are like heat and basil.”
More insights into her mind. She was an open book today. Last night had bulldozed the last of the walls between them. Or so he hoped. “Because heat kills basil’s flavor, right?”
“And makes the leaves wilt.” She tugged at the sheet around his waist. “Wilting isn’t a problem you’ll ever have. Not that I’m surprised. You pack as much of a punch in bed as out of it.”
Tracing her cheekbone, he knew a crazy grin was spreading across his mouth. “We’re well matched that way, not that I’m surprised.”
She gave a luxurious stretch. “God, I feel like I could conquer the world. Is this how you feel when you go to one of those fancy spas for a week? And look, no seaweed or mud needed. Just you. Sign me up for more.”
Amused, he brought her finger to his chest. “Your name goes here for a reservation.”
She cocked an eyebrow but traced her name on his skin. “So…what are we going to do today? I can count the times I’ve languished in bed. Usually it means I’m sick as a dog. Are you hungry? Because I’m thirsty and starving, and I need a shower.”
He leaned in and kissed her slowly, letting the heat build between them. “How do you feel about me giving you a reason to shower?”
Her hands slid into his hair, gripping his scalp again in a way that made his eyes cross. “I love incentives. Do your best.”
He figured he had when they both ended up on the shower floor.
The sun was high overhead by the time they left the bedroom. A few votives were still flickering in the hallway.
“High performers,” he commented. “Like us.”
Her mouth twitched. “Are you really planning on walking around the house without a shirt on?”
His entire inner temperature still ranged in the desert-hot zone. Right now, he could barely stand wearing drawstring pants while she had on her usual black T-shirt and jeans ensemble minus shoes. They were both barefoot. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, but it will make it difficult to focus.” She gave a throaty murmur of delight. “You were already a distraction, Kyle. But this look… You might have me grabbing some more ice cream from the fridge for breakfast.”
He was importing more as soon as possible.
When they reached the stairs, the Latin music he’d put on was still filling the house with its sultry beat. Later, he’d have to invite her to dance with him.
They were halfway down the stairs when the front door opened. They froze as Sawyer walked in.
His face went slack with shock as he followed the shrine of votive candles up the stairs. When he spotted them, he clapped his hand over his eyes. “Oh God! I’m so sorry.”
Spinning around, he backpedaled out of the house and slammed the door.
Madison winced. “Well…that was fun. You’d better go after him. He needs to paint. Which means we can’t be getting freaky all over the house.”
“No?” He laughed. “We’ll have to figure out a system.”
Or he’d find Sawyer a new studio to paint in.
But when he went outside, Sawyer was nowhere to be found. Returning to the kitchen, he found Madison piling leftover Cuban pastries onto a baking sheet.
“He booked it. I’ll text him.”
She was frowning as she placed the pan in the oven. “I hate saying this, but I want to be back in our Romance Shrine. I hate feeling weird again. Also, you have a few love bites on your chest. I’m sure Sawyer saw them. Now he knows I have vampire tendencies.”
Suppressing the urge to laugh, Kyle crossed the room and took her by the shoulders. She looked up at him, her golden eyes flinty again. “Our roommates are going to know we’ve had sex.”
She hitched a shoulder. “You’d think I’d be totally cool with it, but I hate that he ran off. That’s two roommates now who’ve come across us—”
“Make it three!” Dean genially called out, coming into the kitchen with Pierre’s covered cage.
“I see my idea for a sleepover gave you crazy kids the space you needed for your blossoming romance. How’s everyone doing this morning?
Kyle, I like the new look. You come off as a man who’s comfortable at home, proud of his love bites. ”
Madison started for Dean, prompting Kyle to playfully grab her arm.
“Keep talking,” she warned Dean. “My cleaver has been looking for some action.”
Dean chortled but wisely stepped backward. “Speaking of which…” He tossed a gift bag to Madison, who caught it deftly.
“You’d better not have bought me lingerie, Dean.”
Their friend gave a hearty guffaw. “If I’d known what your face would look like, I might have. Be careful. It could freeze like that.”
“Dean,” Kyle warned.
“Open the gift, Madison,” Dean only replied through laughter, “and then I’m out of here.”
She ruffled the gift paper and reached inside, pulling out…
What was that?
“I thought you needed a stuffed cleaver.” Their friend took a few more playful steps backward. “Now you can stab people, but no one gets hurt.”
Her face was blank with shock as she thrust out her new toy. “You think I can’t hurt you with this?”
His shriek was mostly for show. “How about I take Pierre for another night? I’ll drop him off at the restaurant tomorrow.”
“Dean, that’s not—”
“Pierre, Mommy and Daddy need some private time, so you’re coming back home with me,” Dean interrupted, lifting up the covering. “You two crazy kids have fun.”
He was gone in a blink.
Kyle bit his lip to contain his laughter as Madison stalked back toward him, shaking her new stuffed cleaver. “News is going to spread about us getting freaky, you know.”
“Maybe it’s better this way.” He cleared his throat to hide his mirth as he pointed the tip of the stuffed cleaver down to the floor. “Dean is the perfect town crier. How do you like your new present?”
She gently stabbed him in the stomach, and he pretended to double over. “I don’t know how I lived without it. We’re lucky he didn’t have matching T-shirts made for us that say LOVEBIRDS.”
Shoulders shaking, he kissed her smartly on the mouth and headed over to start making them a café crème. “With Dean, it’s always the gesture that counts. How soon will the pastelitos be ready?”
Madison needed a diversion right now. He wanted her light and giddy again—not frowning and worrying about their friends.
“Only about five or six minutes,” she told him, tossing the toy on the counter and then grabbing plates. “Also, I meant to ask last night but I got distracted. When did you become a big fan of Latin music? That was for me, wasn’t it?”
Now there was an edge to her voice. He had to work hard not to rattle the coffee cups and saucers as he grabbed them. “Making you happy was my goal, and the music was part of it. I’d like to dance with you.”
She pressed her hands on the kitchen island, her golden eyes large in her face. “Until Thea’s wedding, I’d never seen you dance with a partner.”
Shit. The weirdness between them was back. He finished making their crèmes and brought them over to the table. “Come sit.”
“I’m waiting on the pastelitos. I don’t want them to burn.”
Fine. He headed over to her with both their coffees. “Here. Have it while it’s warm.”
He sipped his own café, holding her gaze.
Yeah, she was overthinking things, no doubt about it.
“I know you love dancing,” he hedged, not wanting to unveil his secret dance lessons yet, “and I happen to love having you in my arms.”
Her brow knit. “Okay, that’s like flying in all my favorites from Miami and lighting a million candles.
Don’t get me wrong. I really like that you did it.
I told you last night it’s the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me.
But I don’t want you to simply do everything I like. Where’s Kyle in all this?”
Now he was frowning. “I’m right here. Happily.”
She touched his jaw, searching his face. “I know that. But I asked you before, and I can’t help feeling like I need to ask it again. What is Operation Kyle?”
He took her hand and kissed it. “It’s you, Mad.”
New tension filled her frame. “It can’t be me. It has to be about you. I don’t have to listen to Brooke’s podcasts or journal like Thea to know that.”
“I have everything I want.” He cupped her face, wanting to make her understand how he was feeling. “Last night was like touching heaven.”
“Ah… Okay, that’s really romantic, and I should probably giggle and melt, but I know I’m onto something. I cannot be your goal, Kyle. You have to be your goal.”
How many times did he have to repeat himself? “I am, and I know what I want. You. Can we maybe forget all that’s happened since we came down the stairs and start our day over? You’re frowning, and I’m starting to tighten up.”
Her gaze flickered off. “We can’t stay in the Romance Shrine all the time. Real life exists. Until the zombies find us.”
He let his mouth curve. She was trying to meet him halfway. Right now, it was enough. “Clearly, I need new locks on the door. For the zombies.”
And their roommates. He’d originally envisioned this house as the Paris Roommates’ new home in Paris, but that had changed. The others had all left to live with their Plus Ones, and this place was now his home with Madison.
He wouldn’t barge in on anyone else without calling or texting. They would need some new ground rules, especially in relation to Sawyer and his studio. Because Doc did need to paint and feel like he could come to his atelier without walking in on them.
Change.
He’d been riding its wave since he’d made the life-changing decision to come to Paris last August, break up with his fiancée, sell his share in his business, and start fresh here.
“We’ve managed to figure out everything so far,” he said gruffly, caressing the point of her chin. “I mean, look at us. I’m here with you in the kitchen in nothing but drawstring pants with love bites on my chest.”
“The sky has fallen for sure.” She shoved away. “Oh my God! The pastelitos. I forgot them.”
She grabbed a potholder and had them out of the oven in mere seconds, dumping the pastries onto a cooling rack.
He wandered over, sniffing the fragrant air. “They aren’t burned.”
Wilting against the counter, she tossed aside the potholder. “Thank God! I’d planned to stuff my face with them. I only had the guava and pineapple ones last night before we went upstairs. I’m hoping there are other fillings.”
“Count on it.” He gave her a wink. “I’m thorough. You’ll find traditional fillings like cream cheese and coconut along with some savory ones with beef, cheese, and chicken.”
Her heartfelt sigh erased her earlier tension. Thank God for food.
“Let’s chow.” She arranged the pastelitos onto a platter and carried them over to their small dining table still set for two. “Maybe after we eat, we can dig into another carton of ice cream.”
His diaphragm eased. “I’d like that.”
Only, as she plated their food, his mind was on other matters.
He still had a long way to go before convincing her their relationship was going to be easy trails.