When in Paris... (Language of Love) (22 page)

“You tired?” he asks, peering down at me.

Without actually measuring them, I’m sure his eyelashes are an inch long and for a second I’m mesmerized. I blink and do my best to shake off the feeling.
Concentrate, Olivia.
“Not really, but I’m hungry.”

“You want to hang out in our room? We’ll order in.” He looks over at Rebecca, who is listening to our exchange with avid interest.

Several of the other girls, Jessica, Emily and Francesca halt mid-conversation, shoot furtive looks at one another before turning speculative gazes on me and Zach. Jessica, who I’m positive has a thing for him if the way she flirts with him in class is any indication, gives me a haughty, steel-eyed perusal before leaning down to whisper something in Emily’s ear.

“Sure, we’d love to,” I reply, staring at Jessica, daring her to say a word.

The elevator doors
swoosh
open on the ninth floor and we all pile out. My luggage is stacked three pieces high. Clothes occupy the bottom large one, my laptop is in the next and at the top, my handbag/catch-all else. Making sure I have the straps for all secured, I wheel the monstrosity out and pray nothing falls off.

In all the noise and confusion of us getting off, I lose track of Zach and have no idea in which direction he went. Rebecca and I locate our room at almost the end of the hall on the south side.

We spend the next fifteen minutes unpacking and checking out where we’d be sleeping the next six nights. Nothing fancy, the room boasts two double beds, a desk, two chairs, a small table in what would be described as a tiny sitting area and a flat screen TV that sits on a sturdy faux-wood dresser. I’m not a coffee drinker so the coffee pot and filters are lost on me. The bathroom is functional and clean, just the way I like them. The electrical outlets are…different.

The shrill of the phone on the desk is jarring in the quiet of the room. Rebecca’s on it within seconds, jerking it off its cradle.

“
Bonjour
,” she says in a sweet friendly voice. It’s obvious she’s been dying to try out her French in earnest. Her face brightens when the person on the other end responds. She turns to me, eyes dancing.

“Hold on.” She extends the phone to me.

I take it without a second thought. “Hello.”
Bonjour
is easy. Impress me with some real French.

“Hey, Olivia, you still coming?” My heartbeat accelerates at the unmistakable sound of Zach’s voice.

“Yes, what’s your room number? I kind of lost track of you by the elevator.” I’m pretty sure he didn’t have my room number before, which means he went to the trouble of having me looked up.

“Nine-twenty-three. You girls good with a greasy traditional American meal of hamburger and fries or do we need to order you something more refined now that we’re in Paris?” At the teasing note in his voice, I get that tingly feeling all over again. Jeff never gave me a tingly feeling anywhere, even in the beginning. Even when we were making out.

I mouth,
burgers and fries?
to Rebecca’s brows raised in question. She nods fervently.

“Yep, we’re good with that. Oh, can you make mine a cheeseburger and just let us know how much it costs?”

“Forget the money. My treat,” he says dismissively.

“Zach, I want—”

“Olivia,” he says in this stern, brook-no-argument voice.

No one has ever said my name like that, low and sexy, a sound between a growl and a purr. I have to admit, my name on his lips is a complete and utter turn on. Which is when I know I’m in trouble so deep, I barely have the strength to swim up for air. From where I’m treading right now, I wouldn’t mind if I drowned.

“It’s my treat,” he continues, speaking softer now, his voice almost coaxing. And it works because I cave with a breathless and mumbled thank you. My face is hot when I hang up the phone and turn to Rebecca.

Giggling, she shakes her head and says slyly, “Boy, are you two going to have fun in Paris.”

Several lurid thoughts come instantly to mind that I try to squelch. Nothing serious can happen with Zach no matter how much I want it. Yes, I’ve known him for over four years but we’ve barely scratched the surface when it comes to our friendship. For me, getting physical with a guy takes time. Which means nothing can happen while we’re in Paris.

~*~*~

After traveling for the last twelve hours, I take the quickest shower known to man and pull on black jeans and a long-sleeved peasant blouse. Make-up is minimal and my hair gets a vigorous brushing before I feel presentable enough for a late dinner with Zach…oh and Bill—although it’s not like it’s a date.

The guy’s hotel door opens practically before we can knock. “Heard you coming,” Bill explains with a wide grin, opening the door wide to let us in.

Bill’s on the track team and has the body of a long-distance runner, long and lean. His hair is a dishwater-blond and he’s cute with a wicked sense of humor. His French is pretty good too.

His gaze goes over me but the one he directs at Rebecca is definitely more appreciative.

The delicious odor of greasy burgers and fries hit me the minute the door opened. In the midst of poring over the silver-lidded dishes on the table, Zach shoots a look at us. “Hey, right on time.”

I notice he’s changed too. His hair is still a bit damp on top where it is longer. Another pair of jeans but these are dark-blue and not as worn but look just as good on. I walk over to Zach and Rebecca hangs back to talk to Bill. I don’t know if she’s interested in him or whether she’s deliberately trying to give me and Zach a bit a privacy.

His gaze sweeps slowly up and down me as I approach and the clenching in my stomach begins anew as I feel the heat of his gaze everywhere it touches. Self-conscious, I run my hands down my thighs to have something to do with them but I’m sure it only draws more attention to just how nervous I am.

A faint smile curves his lips but his hooded stare speaks volumes. “You look great.”

But if he’s going to put it into words, that’s a good place to start.

“Thanks, so do you.”

“C’mere. I told you I don’t bite,” he says, tipping his head to the side, motioning me over. Closer.

Now I’m thinking about him biting me and I can’t get the image out of my head.

With a grand sweep of his hand, he removes the lid from one of the dishes. “Dinner is served.”

A burger the size of a small steak topped with what looks like three different kinds of cheeses sits center stage on the plate. Surrounding it on one side is a heaping helping of French fries. When you haven’t eaten a decent meal since last night’s dinner of cafeteria lasagna and broccoli, the sight of this makes me want to weep.

Bill and Rebecca join us at the table and soon we’re consuming our late dinner like it’s our last meal just before Napoleon’s men drag us off. Zach and I fall into the same rhythm we had before with the tension between us upped several notches.

At one point he’s staring at me so long I excuse myself to use the bathroom to make sure I don’t have a piece of lettuce wedged between my teeth or something else just as horrifying. Nope, I’m clean, which does nothing to stop the knot that is now my stomach from moving farther and farther up my chest.

When I walk back into the room, his eyes follow me until I sit down, a foot shy away from him. My gaze drops to his lips and I wonder for the millionth time what it would be like to kiss him.

His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. Before I can blink, he’s up on his feet, pushing the chair away from the table.

“The restaurant is closed and I’m still hungry. Olivia, you wanna see if we can find a place that sells mud pie? I think I saw one of those dessert-type places across the street.”

Rebecca snickers from where she’s seated on Bill’s bed. “I know someone who won’t win any awards for subtlety.”

Bill smirks but doesn’t say a word.

Now everyone’s eyes are on me and I’m torn. If I accept, our motives for traipsing around Paris at midnight will be obvious. On the other hand, I want to be alone with him so badly, it’s become a physical ache. One that’s been a faint throb for years now.

When am I ever going to be in a place like Paris—one of the most romantic cities in the world—with a guy I’ve been lusting after for years? In Paris I should be able to throw off some of my inhibitions and live in the moment, right? My response is an unequivocal yes.

“Sure.” I try to sound casual as can be while inside everything is in a flurry, like leaves in a storm.

“Great. Do you guys want anything?” Zach asks as he moves toward the door, me close behind him.

“Nah, I’m good,” Bill replies as he tries to muffle a laugh.

“Nope,” Rebecca says in unison.

Zach grabs my hand and tugs me along behind him. In the hall and after the door closes with a sharp click, he looks down at me and says, “You think I was obvious?”

I bite my lip, fighting a smile. “That you’re still hungry?” God, it’s the first time I’ve ever flirted with him, which makes me feel reckless.

His eyes go all smoky and his hand tightens around mine. His gaze drifts down to my mouth. “Why don’t you show me your room?” His voice is dark and husky.

I knew the trip to the store was just an excuse to get me alone but I’m not sure I’m ready for what I think he has in mind.

Tugging me closer, he leans down until his mouth is touching the shell of my ear. “Not that. I just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

“Oh.” My vocabulary is now reduced to single-syllable words.

“I can’t tell you how much.”

Right now I’m so dizzy with desire, I can’t even think straight. But I know my way back to my room. We arrive there in no time flat. I try to remain super calm when I slide the card into the card reader but my hand trembles.

The click of the door unlocking is the most welcome sound in the world at this moment. Using the flat of his hand, Zach pushes the door open when I turn the knob. Inside, the room is dark save a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the heavy drapes covering the paned windows.

I flip on the light outside the bathroom. Zach is standing against the closed door watching me. He slowly
slowly
pushes off with his hands and takes the two strides required to close the gap between us.

My heart starts an erratic thumping. The key card slips from my boneless fingers to the floor.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely as he lowers his head. His hands gently cup my face. An inarticulate sound emerges from my lips and I’m awash in blinding-hot desire. Then his mouth takes mine and I’m—
poof
—gone.

I’m not sure what I thought kissing Zach would be like but it’s a hundred times better than I imagined. His touch is firm and sure as he explores my bottom lip with his tongue. Needy sounds escape my mouth into his: a whimper, a pant, a stifled moan.

His soft lips lift, skim and gently rub mine. My senses are awhirl, filled with him, his clean masculine scent, his touch. I sift my hands through his hair until my arms are wound tightly around his neck, my breasts flush against his chest.

He breaks the kiss with a groan, plowing his hands through my hair, brushing it to one side so that the length of my neck is exposed to his mouth.

“Damn, Liv.” I feel his hot breath on my sensitive skin and then the brush of his lips as it trails from my collarbone to skim the length of my neck to the ultrasensitive flesh behind my ear.

I’m so excited now, my breaths come in labored pants. I want to touch him all over. Releasing my hands from around his neck, I explore his broad shoulders, familiarizing myself with the hard muscle beneath his shirt before moving on to his smooth back, stopping just above his butt.

His hands and mouth are doing their own exploring, one hand shaping my hip, the other cupping my head and angling it for another deep, soul-destroying kiss as he presses into me. I feel him hard against my stomach and my whole body clenches in need, in want. I’ve never
wanted
so much in my life.

It takes only a minute before we’re both too weak to stand. Without breaking the kiss, Zach walks me back to the bed and lowers me onto it. My legs instinctively part to accommodate him and then he’s there, turned on and hard against me. Lifting my hips to his feels as natural as breathing. My desire spikes to unchartered levels.

He deepens the kiss, our tongues tangling in frantic abandon, his hips pressing harder into me. Suddenly, he tears his mouth from my lips, his breathing nothing more than harsh gasps as he rests his forehead against mine. “I-I said we were just going to kiss but if we keep this up, it will be too hard to stop.”

Still lost in a fog of passion, my first instinct is to tell him I want more, that we don’t have to stop. But I know I’m not ready to have sex with Zach. Even if that’s what my body wants, what my body craves right now, I can’t. It’s too soon.

With my body screaming for me to reconsider, I reluctantly create a distance between us, just enough to let him know without words what’s
not
going to happen tonight.