Amanda's Guide to Love (4 page)

But now, after just a few minutes
of Kes’s exquisite caress
es
, she was fully
primed, her body burning with need. Craving him. How unusual and exhilarating
to inhabit the present moment so fully, caring about nothing—absolutely
nothing—except getting this man inside her.

The intensity of her desire boggled
her mind.

She wanted everything he had to
give.

“Now,” she said, half-conscious she
was voicing her wish. “Please.”

He lifted his head to give her a
scorching look. She held his gaze, feeling delightfully debauched. Without
taking his eyes off hers, he crawled up and covered her body with his.

The next hour was a blurry tangle
of muffled cries, writhing and thrusting, sweat, kisses, scratches and bites,
unbearable tension, and body-jerking releases. When it was over, she couldn’t
fathom getting dressed and taking the elevator to her room. Even crawling out
of the bed seemed like a Herculean
effort. Her body was completely and
utterly relaxed. And it affected her mind. All she wanted now was
to
drift into a deep, dreamless slumber. Even with
a sheet twisted around her leg and the large hand of a virtual stranger resting
on her derriere.

All things considered, sleeping
over wasn’t
that
big of a deal, was it?

Her
Guide to Perfection
might be her bible, but it was just a book by two Parisian style icons. It
wasn’t an all-seeing god—it wouldn’t
know
she’d broken one of its rules.

Besides, there’d be no unpleasant
complications because she’d be sure to sneak out at dawn.

On that promise,
Amanda closed her eyes and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Water
.

She needed water. Not just a glass
of it, but one of those magnum two-liter bottles of her favorite Evian,
straight from the fridge.

My kingdom for an Evian.

The next thing Amanda’s waking
brain registered was the pounding headache. Then came the numb arm.

She peeled her left eye open.
Judging by the light, it was early morning. Amanda focused her gaze on the wall
in front of her and winced. A red sunset stared back at her in all its vulgar
glory. It featured garish colors, a string of palm trees, a dark expanse of
water with a glittering path in the middle, and a couple of seagulls painted
black against the huge orange sun.

So kitsch
.

Had she been the owner of this
“work of art,” she would have kept it tucked away in a closet like an X-rated
movie instead of exhibiting it on the wall for everyone to see.

Hang on a sec—why am I seeing this
at all? Where am I?
Amanda
noticed a heap of clothes on the floor, some of them hers, others . . .
definitely not. Slowly, painfully, memory returned. She was in Deauville. In
bed with a man she’d met last night.

Oh God.

She turned her head as quietly as
she could to see if he lay next to her.

He was still asleep, sprawled on
top of the tangled blanket, stark naked.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

OK. She needed to calm down. The
situation wasn’t as bad as it looked.

The good news was she’d woken up
early, so she could disappear before he woke up. Like that, there’d be no
awkward hellos and clumsy good-byes, no fake smiles
,
and no embarrassing innuendos. Once in her room, she’d shower and then catch
the first train back to Paris.

Amanda stood up from the bed and
tiptoed across the gray carpet to collect her things.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” the naked
man said in a deep, raspy voice befitting the sex god that he was.

Merde
.

At least she’d had time to pull
on
her panties.

“Hi.”
Kes.
That was his
name. His Gypsy name.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“I wouldn’t call this early.”

“Trying to sneak out, huh?”

“What gave me away?”

He chuckled and propped himself
up
on his elbow. His lack of clothing didn’t seem to
bother him at all.

She looked at her feet.

“Listen,” he said, “how about we
grab some coffee and croissants and go to the beach? It’s empty and really
beautiful this time of day.”

“I don’t—”

“We’ll soak up some morning sun and
then go our separate ways. What do you say?”

“I need to get back to—”

“I just wouldn’t like our short but
enjoyable acquaintance to end in this kind of awkwardness. I’m proposing a more
pleasant ending. That’s all.” He wrinkled his brow in a playful entreaty as if
to say,
Is this a great idea or what?

“I haven’t brought a swimsuit. And
I
never
go topless.”

The statement would’ve been more
convincing had she delivered it wearing a bra.
Oh well.

He must have seen the irony of the
situation because his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “We’ll buy you one at
the gift shop downstairs.”

He jumped out of bed and pulled
on
his boxers. As he sauntered toward her, she
blushed at the ribald images that flickered in her brain.

It should be forbidden to look so
hot.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked,
holding out his hand.

No. Yes.
She sealed her consent with a
quick handshake. “I’d like to stop by my room first.”

“Whatever for?”

“Bathroom.”

“Use mine.”

She smirked. “You’re afraid I won’t
come back.”

“Should I be?”

“It’s a possibility.”

He stepped aside and opened the
bathroom door for her.
“Mi casa es tu casa.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped in.

“I’ll order croissants and coffee
in the meantime,” he said
,
shutting the door
behind her.

Amanda rushed to the sink and
poured herself a glass of cold water. Oh, the bliss. She downed two more before
inspecting the counter. To her relief, she found an extra toothbrush and a
perfume-free shower gel.

That was amply
sufficient to freshen up for a quick beach walk with a wildly unsuitable man
she’d never see again, anyway.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they were all
set. Kes handed Amanda her coffee
,
then
fetched two towels from the bathroom and shoved them into a sports bag. Amanda
frowned in suspicion. If he planned on swimming, she’d salute his courage and
return to the hotel.

This was Normandy in May, not
Riviera in August.

At the gift shop, she bought a pair
of flip-flops and a bikini, which she slipped on under her dress in the
changing room. At least she’d return to Paris with a bit of
a
suntan.

The beach was only a short walk
away. Bathed in the gentle morning light, it offered a host soothing
sensations. Amanda listened to the murmur of the waves licking the shore and
the cries of the gulls wheeling above the water. As she breathed in the salty
scent of the algae, her eyes feasted on the rows of colorful parasols and a
scattering of sailboats gliding toward the horizon.

She strolled next to Kes down the
Promenade
des Planches
—a wooden boardwalk running along the beach—until her feet
began to itch for the sand. She removed her flip-flops and ran toward the sea,
the sand
soft and
yielding under her soles.
Kes followed her. She stopped before the waterline and continued along it,
scouting for pretty shells.

Not that she’d forgotten about her
newly unemployment situation or the humiliating circumstances in which she
'd
lost her job—the job that had meant the world to
her. Neither had her mind obscured the fact that she’d slept with a stranger
and was taking a stroll with him now. But the beauty of the vista and the way
the beach pleased her senses were stronger than her abstract grief.

She stole a glance at Kes as he
walked next to her, clad in his swimming trunks. Were his striking good looks
and his swoon-worthy smile the main attractions of this beach walk? It was
possible. Likely, even.

So be it.

In a couple of hours
,
she’d take the train to Paris and leave this
enchanted interlude behind. But as long as she was here, she would enjoy
herself.

He handed her a croissant then bit
into his own. When they were both done, he jogged to the nearest trash can and
dumped the paper bag and cups.

Returning
to
her side, he put his sports bag down and turned to her. “Ready?”

“For what?”

“A swim, of course.”

“No way. The water is too cold.”

He shrugged. “It’s
the
perfect temperature once you’re in it.”

She hesitated for a second and then
pulled her gown over her head. This was a crazy weekend, after all, and she had
only a few hours of madness left. Better not waste them on being reasonable.

The water licked her thighs and
tummy with an icy touch. Amanda let out a squeal and immersed herself up to the
neck. Kes swam around her, waiting for her to acclimate.

“Ready?” he asked when a smile
chased the grimace of discomfort from her face.

“I’m a semipro at swimming, Gypsy
boy,” she said. “The question is, are
you
ready?”

He laughed. “Let’s find out.”

He turned out to be a decent
swimmer, even if his front crawl lacked polish and his butterfly had no
technique at all, relying only on the brute strength of his arms. They stayed
in the water for a good hour, racing each other in different styles and taking
lazy backstroke breaks in-between.

Back on solid ground, Kes swathed
Amanda in one of the towels. Then he picked up the other and began to pat her
hair.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, her
teeth chattering.

“Nah.”

“Really? Then these goose bumps on
your arms must be a permanent feature.” She yanked the second towel from his
hands and threw it around his shoulders. “Is it a Gypsy thing?”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’m a dangerous
mutant.”

She began to rub his arms and chest
with the towel.

He stopped patting her hair and
stood still, his black eyes burning into hers.

“You can still run,” he said.

She peered at his now
-
serious face. When exactly had his joke turned into
an invitation?

I should take his advice and run.

But she couldn’t. Not when he
looked at her like this, his gaze hungry and full of intent—scorching,
irresistible intent.

He began to stroke the back of her
head and her neck. His hands slipped under her towel, caressed her shoulders,
and then slid down her back.

Too good to resist.

He drew her closer, his arms strong
and snug around her as if to convey she’d missed her chance to back out.

Amanda set her palms on his chest
and pressed her lips to his collarbone. His skin tasted of seawater. With a
pang of guilt, she realized this magical morning was a violation of every
ONS-related rule in her
Guide
. She should have returned to her room last
night, but she
'd
stayed. To add insult to
injury, she
'd
slept in his embrace and taken a
bonding swim
with him
in the morning.

Oh, and right now, she was pressing
her lips to his chest, which technically qualified as kissing it.

Merde.

“I’d like to change out of my
swimsuit,” she said in a desperate attempt to derail their speeding train from
its destination.

He let go of her. “Sure.”

She drew away, giving him her
trade
mark fake smile.

He looked around and pointed at
something behind her. “That cabin over there looks like it isn’t locked. Come.”

Without waiting for her consent, he
shoved their stuff into his sports bag and pulled her toward the beach closets
lining the boardwalk.

To Amanda’s surprise, one of them
was unlocked. She stepped inside
,
and he
walked in right after her.

“I’d like to change, too,” he said
in response to her quizzical look and pulled the door shut behind him.

She folded her arms across her
chest, expecting him to turn his back to her. But he didn’t. He just stood
there, staring at her, his body too close in the narrow space of the closet.
Amanda’s breathing grew shallow when she noticed his arousal.