Frenched (21 page)

Suddenly he pulled all the way out and shoved my shoulders back. “I have to taste you. Now.” He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me and yanked me toward him so my ass hung off the edge of the couch. I reached behind me to grab the back of it, crying out at the first stroke of his tongue against the lace panties.

“Don’t you want to take them off?” I asked between pants.

“No.” His fingers gripped my thighs as his mouth worked me through the lace until I could feel how soaked they were. Then he pulled them aside and flattened his tongue on my clit, pressing hard before sliding it in a slow circle. My eyes nearly popped out of my head watching him devour me in the candlelight.

“Oh my God,” I moaned, reaching down to slide one hand into his hair.

He looked at me, but I could only hold his gaze for about five seconds until my head dropped back and my eyes closed in utter ecstasy.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Come for me. I want to watch you.” He reached up and untied the bow between my breasts, and the bra fell open. “Touch yourself.”

I moved my hand to one breast, squeezing it before twisting the hard, tingling nipple between my fingers.

Moaning, Lucas slid two fingers into me and flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking on it hungrily. My body moved of its own accord, my hips rocking against his fingers and my hand pulling his mouth into my core. I opened my eyes again, desperately wanting to see myself come undone at his mouth.

“You want to watch me?” I whispered, the fire rising inside me. “Watch me now. Watch me come. Lucas, oh my God!” I cried as the climax rocketed through me. My feet came off the ground, knees toward my chest, toes pointed in my high heels.

The moment the pulsing bliss subsided Lucas pulled me to my feet and dragged me over to the wall between the windows. My legs were so weak I could barely stand, and I fell forward, bracing myself with both elbows. He stood behind me, and in my heels I was the perfect height.

“Spread your pretty legs.” His breath was hot on my shoulder.

I did as he asked, and he moved my thong aside, teasing me with the tip of his cock at my entrance. I arched my back, desperate for him to plunge into me, but he loved to make me beg.

“You want my cock?” he asked, giving me one more inch.

“Yes,” I panted. “I want it.”

“Say please.” Another agonizing inch.

“Please. Fuck me, I want it now.” I looked over my shoulder, and maybe it was seeing my face that finally made him give in, but he gave up his teasing and shoved into me, deep and hard.

I almost laughed it felt so fucking good. My mouth fell wide open as he gripped my hips and pulled me back against his thrusts. “Yes, like that,” I said. “I love the way you fuck me.”

“Oh my God, I can’t even last,” Lucas moaned.

“Good.” I arched my back even more, sticking my ass out and bringing my feet together to make myself even tighter and wetter for him.

He must have liked it because two seconds later he cursed and squeezed my hips harder with his fingers, yanking me back as he throbbed inside me. I pushed against the wall and closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of his release inside me.

When it was over, he reached up and pulled my upper body to his, an arm across my chest. “I love you.” His lips rested on my shoulder. “Oh my God, I love you. I never expected this to happen.”

I hugged his arm to me and smiled. “Me neither. But someone once told me Paris was magical. I guess she was right.”

Dear Mia,

Unless you cheated and peeked, you’re reading this on the airplane. I know you’re nervous about the flight, but don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. (God, my handwriting is really bad. Sorry. If I’d known how bad it would be, I might have typed this or something. But anyway.)

I wanted to tell you how much this entire week with you has meant to me. No seven days have ever felt so short, and yet they made me feel as if I’ve known you for much longer. Time is a strange thing when you’re in love.

And I love you. So much.

I promise I will be back in the US within a month or so. As soon as I’m in New York, we will make plans to see each other—if you don’t want to fly to see me, I will be on the first plane to Detroit. I cannot wait to hold you again. Please call me as soon as you’re home to let me know you’ve arrived safely.

And now, since I know how much you love lists and you’re feeling a little tense right now, I thought I’d write my own list for you. I hope it makes you smile.

5 Things I Will Never Forget About This Week

1) The moment you burst into the bar the night we met, looking gorgeous and insane in equal measure. I think I loved you then.

2) The way your eyes lit up when I told you the story of Abelard and Heloise, and the sweet sound of your voice when you read the letters out loud at the villa. I keep hearing this in my head: “God knows I never sought anything in you except yourself; I wanted simply you, nothing of yours.”

3) The first time I kissed you, standing on the street corner on Quatre Vents—I’ll walk by that spot every day and think of you.

4) The shower... I knew I loved you then.

5) Watching you sleep next to me the first night you stayed over and thinking how happy I would be waking up to you every morning.

You know what? I can’t do this in five things. Because every moment with you was unforgettable, and everything about you is burned in my brain—your face, your hair, your skin, your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your hands, your lips, your legs, your smell, your taste—oh God, your taste. I’ll think about all of it every single day.

Sometimes I think about how you almost didn’t come to Paris.

Thank you so much for taking a chance.

All my love,

Lucas

Thank you so much for reading Frenched. I’m truly grateful for your purchase, as I know there are many amazing books and authors out there.

If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review on a retail site, such as Amazon, or Goodreads. Reviews are a fantastic (and free!) way to support indie authors, and they are much appreciated.

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Cheers,

Melanie

This book would not have been possible without the love and support of my husband. Merci, merci, merci. You endured many frozen meals, nervous meltdowns, and nights with me driven to distraction. I’m so lucky to have you. Let’s go to Paris again!

Thank you to Tom Barnes for providing me with a cover I adore and tolerating my anxiety. You’re awesome. Thanks Cait Greer for formatting assistance.

A million thanks to Angie Owens for her eagle eye and speed reading—I am beyond grateful.

To Team Harlow—I adore you! Thanks for being a part of my journey. To the ladies at AtoMR and all the bloggers who do so much to help authors, thank you so much for everything. You are amazing.

To the Wrahm Society, thanks for always being there to make me laugh, cry, think, and swoon. I want to hug every single one of you. So glad we found each other! (Estes Park, look out…)

To M. Pierce, for the kindness you’ve shown me.

I’m so glad we are friends.

To Laurelin Paige, for helping me make Frenched so much better in every way. I have feelings, I swear.

To Gennifer Albin, for inspiring me from day one. Thanks for the hard words.

To Bethany Hagen, whose brain I would like to eat and body I’d like to inhabit. At least for a day.

To Tamara, for editing, table-flipping, and unwavering confidence. You’re so beautiful.

To Kayti, for endless enthusiasm, Snow selfies, and a million laughs. You get me, sister. That’s no small thing.

I love you all.

“Hot gangsters, illegal nightclubs, a foul-mouthed daughter of a bootlegger, and scorching sex scenes... This book captured me from page one.” —Laurelin Paige, bestselling author of
Fixed on You

“This was an incredible story packed with excitement, laced with prohibition-era ambience, a strong female heroine and swoon worthy gangsters. I could not put it down. You will not regret picking up this impeccably written book.” —Seeking Book Boyfriends Blog

“I thought there was NO WAY Harlow could write scenes hotter than she did in
Speak Easy
. I WAS WRONG!” —Tamara Mataya, author of
The Best Laid Plans

“I will never pass up Historical Romance novels again. Because if half of them are as difficult to put down as these, I’m hooked. Melanie Harlow is on her way to becoming one of my absolute favorite authors. She can make me forget that I’m even reading a book.” —Biblio Belles Book Blog

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her history with the naughty bits left in. She’s the author of the Speak Easy historical series as well as Frenched, the first novel in a sexy contemporary romance series. Find her sipping cocktails at posh places in Detroit or online…

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