I don’t know who could have gotten in without buzzing me. If it’s the bloody police, they’re going to have one pissed off Frenchman to deal with. I pull my sweatpants on and trudge over to open the door, my fearless watchdog opting to stay put in her bed.
I yank the door open, and everything in me goes hot and cold all at once.
She’s already turned away, like she wasn’t expecting me to answer. Her eyes go wide with surprise when she whips her head around at the sound of the door. I take every detail of her in as if time has slowed down just to give me the privilege. Her hair is damp and a few shades darker than it is when it’s dry. It hangs straight and heavy over her shoulders, drops of water collecting at the ends and seeping into the fabric of her coat. She doesn’t have makeup on like she did earlier tonight, and her eyes are tired even as they brighten with the shock of seeing me. Her lips part, colour slowly flooding her sleep-deprived pallor. Even after a night from hell, she’s stunning.
It’s only then that I realize I’m not wearing a shirt.
Despite the difference in clothing, it almost feels like we’ve returned to the end of our date. I can feel her mouth again, so gentle where it pressed against my cheek, hot and soft and glossed with the promise of more.
I forget all about what was said on the sidewalk tonight. I forget that it’s past five in the morning. I forget everything except the need to have her where she belongs: on the other side of this door, preferably with her back against the wood and her legs around my waist.
“I...I, um...” she stutters. There’s something intimate about watching her lose her words. I get the sense that it doesn’t happen often. “I...Someone was leaving, down in the lobby. They let me in. I didn’t...I didn’t think you’d answer if I buzzed.”
“Why are you here?”
The words come out colder than I intend. The steel they’re laced with is meant for me, not for her. I have to get a grip, or I really will try to kiss her. That can’t be what she came here for.
“Because...I lied to you.”
“About working for Taverne Toulouse?”
“About wanting more.”
I brace my hand on the doorframe, hoping she’ll go on. She has to go on. She has to say more than that, or I won’t be able to stop myself from trying something she’ll reject and I’ll regret.
“I do want more. I...There is a me and you. There shouldn’t be, but there is, and I couldn’t fall asleep without telling you.”
“So you came to my apartment?”
I sound like a dickhead. I can’t come up with the right words, mostly because I’m not thinking with words at all. I’m thinking with breath. I’m thinking with skin. I’m thinking with blood and heartbeats and the flex of muscles that beg not to be restrained.
Monroe’s face hardens, her vulnerability arming itself with contempt. “Clearly this was a mistake too. I’ll just go.”
“Wait.”
I lunge forward but force my hand to drop to my side just before I can grab her wrist. I won’t touch her, not unless I know she wants it.
I don’t know what she wants. I don’t have a hope of figuring out what’s going on behind those bright brown eyes. All I know is that I want a chance to try, to sip and savour and let the flavours play out on my tongue.
God, I would give anything to make her stay.
“I’m sorry,” I urge. “It’s five in the morning, and I woke up at six yesterday, but that’s not even the reason everything I say is coming out wrong. I just...I’m scared to mess this up. I’m scared to watch you go. When I look at you, I see this—thischance. I know I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it if I don’t take it, which iscomplètement fouconsidering I didn’t even know you existed a few weeks ago, but you...you make me feel things I forgot I knew how to feel.”
“Julien...” She hovers in the hall, still poised to head for the elevator. My name sounds like it hurts her to say it. Already, I’ve put her in pain.
I want her to stay. I know she should go.
“But maybe you’re right.” I drop my gaze to the carpet. “Maybe it was a mistake.”
“Fuck it.”
She’s right in front of me before I have time to notice her move. Only a few inches of space separate her chest from my bare torso. I could wrap an arm around her waist and her body would be flush against mine. She stares up at me, breath heaving, eyebrows pinched with determination.
“If this is all a mistake, then fuck it. Let’s make one more.”
She’s so close we’re breathing the same air. I inhale her exhale as her fingers brush my knuckles and then tangle themselves with mine.
“Julien?”
