“Sure.” I shrug.
“Look, I have to go take care of a few things for work, but I’m so glad you’re coming to Paris.” He steps out, and closes the door behind him.
I’m glad I’m going too.
I know the right thing to do is give him the space he needs to think about his relationship with Tatianna. But spending a whole week alone with him in a romantic city like Paris? The temptation will be nearly overwhelming.
When we arrive in Paris, the joy on Mia’s face is incredible. She’s like a little kid in a candy shop, her eyes wide and her mouth curled into a silly grin. I can’t help getting swept up in her excitement, my own mood lightening despite having been here many times. Even after a twelve-hour flight, she’s full of energy and ready to explore.
“Where are we going first?” she asks, as the driver cruises down the highway that leads from the airport to the city.
“The hotel.” I chuckle at her. “I thought we could drop our luggage, and then I’ll show you around a little, but we have a business dinner in a couple of hours.”
On the plane ride here, I told her all about Pierre and the successful European firm he runs. I would like to take over managing his company’s investments stateside and need to show him why that would benefit him. But first I need to win him over. The French are much more relational when it comes to business. They don’t get in bed with just anyone. His wife’s name is Adele, and I explained that I needed Mia to keep her happy and occupied. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. I know by tonight we will both have our game faces on, but for now, I’m happy to indulge her in the role of tour guide.
When we reach the hotel and step into the opulent marble lobby, Mia’s eyes dart over the elegant paintings and the finely upholstered furniture. I stand at the check-in counter, waiting, as the clerk types something on the keyboard.
“Monsieur, the luxury king suite you’ve requested has been prepared. The bellhop will bring your luggage up.”
Shit. My assistant booked the room for me and Tatianna months ago, of course it’s just one room—with one bed. “Actually, I need a bigger suite—something with two bedrooms.”
She looks down at the monitor and begins typing again. “I’m sorry, but we’re completely full at the moment.” She frowns.
“Okay, then just a regular room with two beds?”
She shakes her head. “We have no occupancy other than the suite you reserved.” She explains that there’s some big fashion convention happening this week and many of the hotels are full.
I consider searching for another hotel, one outside the city, but with my meetings all being in the business district, I realize that’s silly. Mia and I are adults. We will be fine sharing a room. Shit, we used to have sleepovers all the time when we were little.
“Fine,” I say to the clerk. “Please send up our bags.”
I find Mia admiring an oil painting at the far end of the lobby.
“The colors are amazing,” she says when I get close.
I love how she can find such simple joy in things. I realize if I was here with Tatianna, she’d probably be complaining that our room wasn’t quite ready and her nose would be stuck in her phone.
“I have some news,” I say, guiding her toward the elevator with my hand at the small of her back.
“The reservation was made months ago by my assistant, and now the hotel is completely full.”
Her eyebrows draw up. “So? Spit it out, Collins.”
“How do you feel about sharing a bed?”
“Oh.” She lets out a nervous laugh and staggers back a step, her hand curling around the railing inside the elevator, like she needs the support to remain upright.
Before she has time to respond, the doors open to our floor. We walk in silence to the room, and I slide the key card into the slot beside the door.
“It’ll be fine,” I assure her, motioning her to enter ahead of me.
“Of course,” she says.
My stomach tightens into a knot, because the moment the door closes, and I’m alone with Mia, all I want to do is throw her down on the bed and kiss the living daylights out of her. Perhaps it was our close proximity on the plane, the way she rested her head on my shoulder while she slept, or that I feel closer and more connected to her than I have any right to. She’s not mine. But shit, I want to feel her hot mouth on mine and soft body in my hands.
Memories float into my brain, how her body felt under mine the first time we had sex, how her tight pussy fit me like a hot glove… No one has ever felt as good. Even though it was our first time, and it was little awkward, it was still the best, because it was not just physical, it was life changing, it was with the one person who had no hidden agendas, it was just two people with real feelings, exploring each other. I would kill for another chance like that.
A knock at the door interrupts my wicked thoughts, and I tip the bellhop after he delivers our suitcases.
Clearing my throat, I mumble something about cleaning up and head to the bathroom.
Christ, how am I supposed to survive an entire week sleeping beside Mia, watching her emerge pink and damp from the shower, listening to her sleepy sounds as she drifts off, being surrounded by her scent…
I scrub my hands over my face. I feel like an awkward teenager. So I do the only thing I can think to do. I grab a squirt of body wash and begin jacking myself off.
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