‘Duke.’ I grin. ‘Best years of my life. Majored in Visual and Performing Arts. Got some great buddies out of it. But then right after, my mom—she’s my manager?—’
‘Hang on. Yourmum’syour manager?’
‘Yeah.’ Here we go.
She slaps the table. ‘You are kidding me. How did I not know this? So she’s, like, yourmomager? I’m imagining Kris Jenner now. Does she look like Kris? Are you secretly a Kardashian?’
She looks thrilled with herself.
‘Fuck you,’ I say. ‘She’s definitely not Kris Jenner. She’s a lot more WASPy. And she’s even scarier than Kris.’
‘God. She must be terrifying.’
‘She really is.’ She has no idea.
‘Is she here with you, then? In Cannes?’
‘She is, but I’ve made it very clear to her that we’re here on separate trips. Mom’s not a party girl. She’s staying at the Carlton. She’s here solely to schmooze.’
‘And what are you here to do?’
I lean forward and give her my most genuine smile, because I mean every fucking word. ‘I’m here to find the most beautiful, talented, mesmerising woman in this wholedamn circus and get as much of her as she’ll possibly give me.’
She looks at me through her dark eyelashes. ‘And how is that going for you?’ she asks quietly.
‘Well, I’ve found her. Now I just need to get as much of her as she’ll give me. And yes, I mean that exactly how it sounds. I wanna spend the night with you, baby. I wanna get you naked and kiss every fucking inch of you, and I wanna see how you look and sound when you’re actually enjoying yourself in bed. And then I wanna wrap my arms around you and fall asleep with my nose buried in your neck, and wake up tangled in the sheets with you.
‘And ideally, do the exact same every night we’re here. And based on how I’m feeling right now having you across from me, and how fucking amazing it was kissing you earlier, I wanna see you again, somehow, after Cannes. Cards on the table, Elle. That’s what I want.’
She’s looking at me, eyes lidded and heavy with desire, that tongue I tasted earlier licking her lower lip. I nod encouragingly.
‘And now comes the part where you tell me what you want, baby.’
‘I want that too.’ She whispers it. ‘I want—I want everything you just said. I just—it’s quite quick, that’s all, and I don’t want to be made a fool of. I don’t want to be another notch on Josh Lander’s bedpost during an ill-advised few days in the South of France.’ She looks down at her bowl again. ‘Even if I want to be in bed with you really, really badly.’
I’m not gonna lie; it’s a sucker punch to the gut to hear her talk like that about my bedpost, but there’s not much about my past behaviour that could reassure her. All I can give her is my word.
I reach over and take her hand. ‘Hey. Look at me. I get it. A lot of what you’ve read about me is total trash, but a lot ofit’s true, too. I like to party. I like women. But you are not the kind of girl any guy should get to mistreat. You’re not a conquest. You are… fucking amazing, and I’m so lucky to even have a chance with you.
‘I will not screw you over, baby. I’m already dreading getting on that plane next weekend, and we haven’t even fucked yet. I promise you, I will not make a fool of you.’
CHAPTER 7
Elle
In the end, the paps find us, and we beat a hasty retreat because the swarm of cameramen up the narrow street is threatening to ruin the evening of everyone else trying to dine in Le Suquet this evening. But that’s okay, because ever since Josh brought up the subject of us sleeping together tonight, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.
I’ve only slept with two people. I had a boyfriend for most of my time at uni. Luke: a gorgeous hockey player who was at Emmanuel College with me. We drifted apart during the craziness of Finals and my first film role, which I started shooting almost immediately after Finals, and then I slept with the barman in our local pub in the Cotswolds a couple of times last summer. So while I had a decent sex life with Luke, I’m not exactly experienced.
But it’s quite obvious that Josh is—that he’ll be incredible in bed. I can just tell. He’s one of these guys who oozes confidence, which is ridiculously attractive in itself, and sex.
He looks at me; I think of sex.
He walks; I think of sex.
He kisses me, and my entire body primes itself to have sexnow.
He also, despite my best efforts to rationalise with myself, seems genuinely attracted to me. And despite the many salacious stories I’ve read about him over the years, I choose to give him the benefit of the doubt. I do him the courtesy of judging him, not on what the gossip rags say about him, but on how he’s behaved since I’ve met him. And he’s behaved beautifully. Impeccably. He hasn’t put a foot wrong, and I literally fancy the pants off him. So we’re doing this.
