Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
JO
Iwake up to the faint hum of the Parisian street below drifting in through the half-open window, but Axel’s side of the bed is empty.
My stomach flips as I remember last night.
The possessive way he pressed himself into me, the way our coupling felt like fire and gravity combined.
It was nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
It was a whole lot better than I had imagined it would be.
I have never orgasmed like that, especially from penetration.
I knew Axel would be good in bed, but I didn’t expect him to be that good.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets falling over me in a tangled heap.
I can still feel the imprint of his body on mine, the memory of his hands tracing me, holding me.
Shivers run down my spine at the recollection.
I push the sheets away, and my hand lingers on the inside of my thigh, and as I do it, I wish it were Axel’s warm, strong hand on me again.
I touch his side of the bed, and it is cold.
But maybe it was just one and done for him.
We just had to get it out of our systems, and now we have.
I tell myself to be ready for the fact that it may never happen again.
After all, we’re supposed to be here playing detective, finding information about the stolen painting.
Everything else is dangerous. Unnecessary.
A distraction. A fire I can’t control. It’s going to be hard enough going back now after one time, but if we keep letting it happen again and again, it will be too hard.
I know that much. But I also know that if he walked through that door right now and kissed me like he did last night, I wouldn’t resist him. Not even for a second.
I pull myself up, my muscles stiff from last night’s unfamiliar movement, and pad on bare feet across the cool wooden floor to the bathroom.
The tiles in the bathroom are a little bit cold.
I debate between a shower and a bath, and I decide on a shower.
I get in when the water is hot, and steam curls around me.
I close my eyes, letting the water wash over my skin.
My mind betrays me, replaying Axel’s touch, his lips, the way his chest had pressed against my breasts.
Every brush of his skin against mine, every shared breath, every fleeting touch. It’s impossible to forget.
I try to focus. Get a grip, Jo.
This is Paris. We’re here for an investigation.
I can’t, no, I shouldn’t be thinking like this.
Yet the thought of last night’s activities stubbornly pulls me in again.
The images are fresh and insistent. I run my hands over my arms, over my body, trying to scrub away the craving that lingers so strongly.
But it’s still there, wrapped in every nerve ending.
I shake my head. Focus, Jo. You’re not here to …
you know. This is not a dirty weekend. But the image of him, of us, it’s right there.
I sigh and let the sexy images stay, dangerous as they are.
My hand strays towards my belly and moves lower.
That is the moment I halt. I turn the water off quickly and step out of the shower.
I wrap a fluffy white towel around myself, then pick up another smaller one and rub my hair briskly until it is damp and clinging in loose strands to my face and neck.
Leaving the bathroom, I select an outfit that’s simple but elegant, something that feels right for Paris.
A fitted white blouse and a pair of high-waisted black trousers.
After slipping into black flats, I fasten a pair of little silver earrings that I picked up in London the week before my life was turned upside down.
I stand in front of the mirror, running a comb through my damp hair.
When it dries, I’ll scrunch it into a ponytail.
My reflection feels alien. It shows someone professional, composed, and ready to meet whatever the world throws at her, but between my legs, my clit feels heavy and hot, and the flush on my cheeks betrays the night before when I was anything but composed.
I can still feel the ghost of Axel’s hands sliding along my back, the curve of his palms against me.
My pulse quickens, and I catch myself biting my lower lip.
I tell myself to stop being so pathetic.
It was just sex. No need to get carried away.
It probably won’t happen again. But a part of me, the stubborn, daring part that is likely to get me into trouble, desperately wants it to.
I apply a touch of make-up. A dab of brown eye shadow, a swipe of mascara, a hint of neutral lip color. It’s a ritual. Just me grounding myself, pretending everything is normal.
Once I’m ready, I grab my cell phone to call Axel and see where he is.
I scroll, thumb hovering over the screen, but before I can press dial, the door opens quietly, and Axel steps in, holding two steaming cups of takeaway coffee.
The smell of the coffee is rich and warm, and beneath that is a smell that is deliciously, overwhelmingly him. My pulse leaps.
“You’re up,” he says, his green eyes catching mine, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Where did you go?” My voice is soft, a mix of curiosity and something else, something I’m not quite ready to name.
He steps closer to me. “I wanted to make a call. To the dealer. I needed to set up an appointment without disturbing you.” He hands me one of the cups.
I put my cell phone down and take the cup.
The heat seeps into my fingers. “I called him. Told him I was interested in some art, just casual, you know. Unfortunately …” He hesitates for a fraction of a second.
“… He’s out of town for the next two days.
The appointment is set, but it’s not until Monday morning. ”
I laugh, a bright, musical sound that surprises even me. “That’s not unfortunate at all,” I say. “We’re in Paris, Axel. There’s plenty to do before chasing down corrupt dealers.”
He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing across his lips. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I take a slow sip of the coffee, letting the warmth and aroma flow languidly through me. “We’ve got an entire city at our fingertips, but today, we must go to the Louvre. Please.”
He chuckles softly, watching me with amusement. “Must? The Louvre?”
I nod, leaning against the edge of the dresser, tracing the rim of the cup with my thumb. “Must. The Louvre.”
I know he is going to agree, but he pretends to consider.
“It’s iconic. I’ve wanted to go since I was a kid. It’s a museum of dreams, Axel. You can’t just come to Paris and walk past it.”
He tilts his head and gives me that calculating, teasing look I am coming to know too well. “You know, you’re insatiable when it comes to art.”
I mock gasp, playful and unrepentant. “Insatiable? Me? Never.”
“I beg to differ,” he says, and the way he looks at me tells me that he’s no longer talking about my love of art.
I blush slightly under his blazing gaze and his smile becomes wider. Then, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He unfolds his fingers, revealing two tickets. “Ah well, would you look at that. Two tickets for the Louvre.”
I blink in surprise, then laugh, delight spilling out of me. “You knew I’d want to go?”
He shrugs and his expression is dry. “It wasn’t exactly a huge leap of the imagination.”
His beautiful green eyes hold mine, and I feel a rush of heat low down in my belly.
My pussy becomes wet just thinking of what we could do if we stayed in instead.
I feel that same pull, that same tension from last night flickering in the air between us, and I know if we don’t move soon, the Louvre won’t be happening.
We will be making our own entertainment, and maybe that will be just as fun as that sounds.
“Stop, Jezebel,” Alex says sternly.
With a laugh, I set my coffee down and take a step closer to Axel, unable to hide the grin spreading across my face. “No one’s called me Jezebel before.
His eyes glint. “I can’t believe that. Your mouth alone qualifies you.”
“So are we tearing up the tickets?”
“Nope, but consider your body mine to do with as I please tonight.”
“Well,” I say. “That will make today officially perfect.”
He smiles, that faint, wolfish grin that makes my chest tighten, and he lifts his cup in a mock toast.
“To Paris. To art. To the Louvre and every fucking thing that comes after it.”
For a moment, the city outside the window doesn’t exist. There’s just us, in a cheap hotel room, a faint hint of coffee, the morning light, and the electric pulse of something new vibrating between us. Something that threatens to become as necessary as oxygen for me.
“Ready?” Axel asks.
And I nod. Yeah, I’m ready. I’m ready to go and ready for more.