“We don’t have to do your whole
wait to have sex
challenge.” Dressed in only Chase’s t-shirt and my panties, I lifted my shirt a little and exposed my bare legs. He shifted his view to my thighs.
“No. I want to show you that this arrangement will be more than sex.”
“I think waiting the whole month is a bit crazy.” I spread my legs open. His t-shirt rose more and revealed a pair of pink panties to him.
“Damn. Maybe we’ll just wait a week or two.” Licking his lips, Chase gripped his erection with a shaking hand and edged away. My sex clenched and I wished I could touch him there, but he’d been moving my hands away all night, each time I tried to sneak a feel.
“Or we can make love now and then wait a week or two.” I wagged my eyebrows at him.
“You just drank a bottle of wine. You’ll wake up tomorrow pissed at me.”
I considered what he said. “I doubt it.”
“We should get some rest.” He switched off the light. “Once the plane drops in Paris, I’ve got a feeling you’ll keep me up the whole time we’re there and drag me around the city, visiting shops and eating weird food.”
“It won’t be weird.”
“You said you wanted to try head cheese.” He scrunched his nose up as if he’d smelled something rank.
“I bet it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
I’d explained that head cheese was not cheese at all, but sort of a meat jelly that was made from the boiling parts of a calf or pig’s head. His face had actually turned red from the details. Telling him that the brain, eyes, and ears were not boiled with the head to make the cheese did not soothe his fears at all.
“I’m not eating it,” he declared.
“You promised.”
He groaned. “Whatever. Let’s go to sleep. You’ve kept us up long enough.”
“Nope. It’s your fault we’re still up.” I pinched his stomach when he pulled me into his arms.
“You told me to tell you about the Beatles,” he said.
“I figured their history would be boring enough to put me to sleep.” I laughed.
“Careful. I’ll throw you out of this plane if you keep that up.”
“Your fandom is extreme,” I said.
“Okay.” He sat up and grabbed his iPod. The screen illuminated the room. “I’m sure you’re Beatles out by now. Would you like to hear something else?”
“Definitely.”
“In my argument of old is better, I will play the oldest song I own.” He laughed and browsed through his playlist for a few minutes.
Finally he stopped on something, placed the iPod on his nightstand, and returned next to me. I laid my head on his chest. Warmth radiated from his satin skin. His scent covered me like an expensive sheet and I sank into it, feeling at home for the first time since I’d met him. A new song played.
“What instrument is that?” I’d learned he had an ear for picking out instruments after only hearing a few notes.
“Acoustic guitar.” His body stiffened.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He stroked my arm with his fingers.
“Tomorrow. Will you be there, with that sweet smile on your face and those flowers in your hair,”
the guy sang.
“Or is this just only for tonight, will things change once we turn on the light? Tomorrow.”
“Who is this?” I asked.
“This is Banyan Prodd,” Chase said.
“I’ve definitely heard this song before. I just didn’t know who sang it.” I closed my eyes and yawned. Chase brushed my hair away from my shoulders and massaged the back of my neck with gentle circles. I loved the way he touched me. Each finger delivered its own glint of delight into my body. I could tell that he was familiar with the intricate details of how to please a woman. He understood how to keep a lover satisfied and her mind constantly on him, whether he was around her or not. His skill alarmed and intrigued me.
“I used to yearn for tomorrow, never thinking of the now. But here you are and now I can’t seem to think how, I ever craved tomorrow.”
“I love this,” I whispered.
“My mother did, too. She used to play it over and over. I could hear it drifting from her bedroom on Sunday mornings. She would sing it too. God, she had a beautiful voice.”
I opened my eyes and gazed up at him. A dim light from the doorway cast a glow on his sculpted face.
“Sometimes I would wake up, quietly tiptoe to her open door, and sit down next to it, holding Mr. Talbot and listening to her sing.”
“And who is Mr. Talbot?” I smiled.
“A very smart teddy bear.” He moved his hand from my neck and pressed the button to start the song over. Something about the way he described his mother caused me to wonder if she was still alive.
Didn’t Lucy say that she died?
“How did your mother pass away?” I asked.
“She was killed when I was a kid.” He offered nothing else, and I didn’t feel comfortable pushing the topic any further. He chuckled. “I can’t believe I forgot how much she loved that song. Tonight, I play it and all of a sudden that memory hit me as soon as Paul started singing.”
“Well, it sounds like a great memory. I can’t imagine you as a child.”
“I was an angel.”
“Oh goodness.”
He pressed another button and then wrapped his arms around me. The song played for a third time.
“You should put the song on repeat,” I offered and shut my eyes. “It’s so mellow. I may fall asleep to it.”
“Sounds good to me.” A beep came. The song restarted.
I smoothed my body into his and hoped he would never release me. With his embrace, I felt safe and cared for.
Isn’t that all I really wanted in a relationship or marriage? To be protected and loved.
The guitar’s notes flowed through the room and soothed my spirits. I became intoxicated just from the moment. His scent gave me an emotional buzz and I drowned in the silk of his flesh, the luxurious wine coating my tongue, and the harmony of the lyrics. It was so weird that a song about a man being afraid to get his heart broken had given me hope for my relationship with Chase, and breathed renewed life into my doubtful mind.
“This moment is perfect,” Chase said, as if he could read my thoughts. “I could die right now and have no regrets.”
Shock filled me. I had no reply, but I understood how he felt and agreed.
“Goodnight, Jasmine.”
The plane rocked us as we lay together, connected into one. I struggled to stay awake and take pleasure in each second, but after a while exhaustion stole me away and my dreams shifted into romantic scenes of Chase making love to me in a cool lavender river as the moonlight shone on our wet skin.
Chapter 20
N
o longer on
the plane, I woke up to luxury.
This is what Cinderella must have felt like the morning after her wedding.
I sat up in the middle of the softest bed in the history of mankind. Even my behind purred with pleasure. Pillows surrounded my body. Several feet in front of me, a sort of study done in dark red and walnut stood before me. On one side was a white loveseat. A rich walnut coffee table was in the middle next to two white chairs. A chandelier of crystals shaped as tear-dropped candles hovered over the scene.
Holy cow! Where am I?
In my part of the room, where I lay in bed, beige walls were done in some decadent print I couldn’t name. Even the bed’s headboard boasted a silky fabric and was bordered with a gold carving that extended two feet high. Silver lamps decorated the wall. If I had mimicked this exact design it would have been a gaudy mess, but in this hotel room it spoke of great wealth and sophistication.
“Chase?” I searched the space with my eyes, but was pretty certain I was alone. No noise sounded from the bathroom. The lights had been switched to dim as if he hadn’t wanted to disturb me while he left. I slid off the bed and decided to check out the room some more. Each step to the bathroom was a sensual experience for my bare feet. The carpet’s fabric slipped against my skin. I gasped when I entered the bathroom.
This is unreal
.
I should take a picture of this!
Gold faucets jutted from a massive marble tub. Pink towels hung on the rack. Their embroidered lettering said, “Ritz Paris.”
Well. This is not the Motel 6
.
“Oh my God.” I almost swooned. “We’re at the Ritz in Paris!”
When did we land? How did he get me in here without waking me up? And where the hell is he now?
Shrieking, I raced out of the bathroom, then down a few steps, past another room with a glass display full of an elegant outfit, rushed to the front door, and opened it.
A woman in a black maid’s uniform with a crisp white collar and apron stood outside. “Can I help you?”
A thick accent clung to each word.
She’s French!
I shrieked with glee. The maid jerked back.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I scanned the immaculate hall and turned around. On my door, gold cursive lettering stated, “Suite Coco Chanel.”
“Oh my God!” I jumped up and down, slamming the door and running back into my room.
I’m taking pictures of everything. Vivian won’t believe this
.
Vivian was a huge fan of fashion designers and considered fashion a type of art to be treasured and drooled over. I spotted small steps to a windowed door, opened it, and stepped onto a small balcony. A gentle breeze tickled my cheeks.
Good God!
In awe, I drank in Paris. We were in the center of everything. A massive public square was laid out in front of me, one I’d seen in movies and TV shows about Paris, but couldn’t remember the name of. Stone buildings outlined a huge statue that stood in the center. Cars drove by the statue. People walked all over.
French people!
I waved at everyone like a crazy woman, but no one waved back.
“Jasmine!” Chase yelled.
I left the balcony and skipped to where I thought his voice came from. It took a few minutes to maneuver my way around the massive space. Once I found him, I spotted two servants following him. Several bags filled their arms. A buffet of yummy aromas drifted from those bags. Chase was dressed in charcoal gray pants and a white shirt.
“Good morning.” His lips twisted into a sort of half-smile. He reminded me of a mischievous kid on a cartoon, just caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.
“Good morning.” I battled with myself not to display a giddy grin, but it burst on my face anyway.
God, I must look like a little kid.
I giggled. “This is...I can’t believe you did this. The Chanel suite? Are you serious? When you said we were going to Paris, I thought it would be a decent hotel, but not this.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.” A giddy laugh burst from my lips.
“Any regrets?”
“No.” My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
He stepped toward me. “Then give me three months instead of one.”
Damn. He’s good
.
“I’ll think about it.”
“What’s to think about?” He flashed a wicked grin.
“Chase,” I whispered. The servants pulled out all types of food and placed them on plates. Most of the items I didn’t even recognize, besides some of the breads and cheeses.
“What’s this?” I went closer to the table.
“Breakfast.” He clasped his hand in mine and towed me away from the table and closer to him. “Answer my question. What do you have to think about?”
I sighed.
“Give me three months.” Those green eyes focused on me. A relentless man showed behind them.
“This isn’t fair, asking me to give you more time right when I wake up in freaking Paris.”
“Life isn’t fair.” He tapped his thumb against the inside of my palm. “Please.”
“Three months with the same rules?”
“Of course.”
I bit my lip. “Fine.”
“Then let’s make it six months.”
I hit him in the stomach with the back of my hand. He laughed and drew me in for a kiss.
God, even his tongue tastes so good.
I explored his mouth. He pulled away and sucked on my bottom lip. It felt so good. I moaned. The sound of a door closing came from farther away.
I left his lips. No one was in the suite but us and a table stacked with food. “All this is our breakfast?”
“I couldn’t decide what you would want. I asked around for the best breakfast in Paris, which sparked a serious argument between the connoisseur and receptionist.” Chase backed away from me and kicked off his sneakers. “Seriously, I thought the connoisseur was going to smack her when the receptionist disagreed about who baked the best bread.”
My stomach growled.
“So I settled on both of their top three favorite breakfast spots.” He guided me over and pulled out a chair for me. “Let’s eat, baby. Maybe you can tell me what the hell we’re eating once you try it.”
“I’m excited.”
“Well, I’m nervous.” He frowned and stared at the table. “I swear I heard one of them used the French word for ‘tongue’.”
“Whoa. I hope there’s tongue on here.” I pumped my fist in the air. “I love beef tongue. When executed well, of course.”
“Of course.” He frowned.
“Stop it.” I unfolded a cloth napkin and set it on my lap. “Oh, what’s the name of the place outside the balcony?”
“Place Vendôme.”
I repeated him.
“Why?” he asked.
“I just don’t want to forget any of this.”
“If you do, we’ll come back.” He shrugged. “Here’s your phone, by the way.” He handed it to me. “It kept ringing and buzzing. I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off so I took it with me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah right.”
“What?”
“You didn’t rummage through it, checking out all of my hot lovers’ voicemail messages?” I slid my fingers across the screen to check my missed calls. “Your fiancée called me ten times, Lucy five, and a number I don’t recognize also called. Should I assume it’s Wendy?”
“Yes.” He chewed on a piece of bread. A dark expression shadowed his face. “You like the suite?”
“It’s awesome. How much is it a night?”
“Seven thousand Euros.”
“Whoa. That’s several house payments.” I shook my head and checked my emails. “Are we going to discuss why your women are calling me or are we going to pretend like it’s not happening?”