“It dawned on me that we didn’t discuss what last night was.”
Laurent turned to face me with his mug cradled between his palms. “’What it was?’ Did you wake up straight again? Was it a full moon last night? Let me guess… Instead of turning into a werewolf, you turned into a man with a sudden longing for cock, and now the moon is waning, you’re back to normal.”
“That’s quite some imagination you’ve got there.”
Laurent’s shrug said it wasn’t the first time he’d been told that. “Go on.”
It was far more difficult with him looking at me. “I should have set some ground rules.”
Laurent’s eyebrow arched. “Ground rules?” He took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “What sort of ground rules?”
“Last night was great. I don’t want you to think it wasn’t.” When silence met my statement, I pressed on. “But… it was just sex. Nothing more.”
“Just sex,” Laurent parroted without a shred of emotion in his voice. “I think the language barrier may be a problem here. You’re going to have to explain it more. What do you mean by just sex?”
“I’m attracted to you. Well, obviously I am because we did stuff last night, and it was great.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Right. I’ll try not to repeat myself. I just don’t want you to think I didn’t enjoy it. I’d like to do more… stuff.”
“Stuff? What stuff?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Laurent took another sip of his coffee. “It’s not that complicated. Do you want me to suck your cock? Do you want to suck mine? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want to get fucked? Do you want to put a gimp mask on and get on all fours, and have me lead you around like a dog?”
“Definitely not the last thing,” I said a little too quickly.
Laurent put his coffee cup down to mime flicking over the page of an imaginary notepad and crossing something off. “I’ll cancel the gimp mask order.”
The conversation wasn’t going the way I’d planned. I tried again. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you thinking I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not looking for anything more than sex.”
Laurent gave a slow nod. “What about the children?”
“What children?”
“The future ones we might have adopted.”
“What?” My confusion was genuine.
“What about the wedding?”
“What wedding?”
“Ours.”
A cold prickle worked its way up my spine, this conversation all a little too familiar. Was it me? Did I give off vibes that madepeople believe I fell in love at the drop of a hat? First Katrina, and now Laurent. At least with Katrina, it had taken a couple of months of us being together for her to turn obsessive. I’d only had one night with Laurent. I’d run to Paris to get away from Katrina. Where was I supposed to run next?
Laurent retook the seat on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. “You’ve gone very quiet.”
“Yeah.”
His lips twitched, and then he started laughing. Not quiet laughter either, but something that came from his gut, great bellows of it.
“You were joking,” I said, as relief flooded my body.
Laurent wiped a tear away, the extent of his hilarity enough to have him crying. “Your face. You should have seen yourself.”
