26 Hours in Paris (19 page)

Elated to hear the words on her lips, he threw back his head and buried himself inside her silky acceptance. Relinquishing his heart to her, he claimed her body in deep and urgent thrusts, plunging them off the edge in an earth-shattering and joint release.

He collapsed over her, holding her close and reveling in the heat of her breath on his neck. When the strength returned to his arms, he lifted his weight off her chest and looked at the perfect woman beneath him. His woman.

He stretched up and released her hands. Quickly unwinding the material from her wrists, he rubbed them gently and brought each to his lips. “Thank you.”

Long lashes rested over her cheeks, and she burrowed against him with a content moan. He slid to her side and pulled her against him, holding his most precious possession against his heart.

As their breathing settled and his senses returned, he reached for the glass of juice and took a sip. Lifting her mouth to his, he gave her a drink.

With a beautiful smile curving her swollen lips, she looked at him and stroked her fingers over his jaw. “Tell me what you want, Marko.”

“More time,” he said. “Come with me to Provence. There is so much more I want to show you. Let me introduce my home and family to you. Plus, there is my mama's bouillabaisse on Sunday. I'll get you back to New York with time to spare for the deadline.”

“Okay.”

His heart soared. “My absolute favorite word.”

Sending up a silent prayer of gratitude, he dropped his chin to her shoulder and simply held her.

M
arko brushed his lips over her temple and held Kat tight. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Kat asked in a soft whisper.

“You've given us more time. You've allowed an opportunity to see and experience my world. Nothing could make me happier than introducing you to my family.” Combing his fingers through her hair, he inhaled the sweet floral scent and smiled. “They will be glad to know that I'm not delusional over an imagined lover. You're real.”

“I can never imagine anyone thinking of you as delusional. You've got all your shit together—all of the time. You're smart, capable, successful, super handsome, deliciously sexy, and everything a woman dreams of.”

He fit a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to meet her gaze. “But I wasn't enough for you.”

“Not true. You're intimidating to most people. To me.” She looked away and sucked her trembling lower lip into her mouth. “When your family meets me, you'll realize
I'm
not enough for you.”

Confusion punched him in the gut. He hadn't expected those words. Was at a loss for a reply. Not once had he ever imagined she'd felt that way. And not once had she alluded to that in the past. He touched his thumb to her mouth and released her lip. “
Bella
, please tell me why you feel like that.”

“Marko, we come from two different worlds,” Kat said, glancing up at him.

Easily solved. He would relocate.

“Your family is a respected powerhouse of French aristocracy. Cultured and elegant, they would never welcome the daughter of an ordinary blue-collar worker. We simply run in different socioeconomic circles. They won't approve.”

Sucker-punched for a second time, he wiped his palm down his face and rubbed his jaw. His beautiful and smart woman harbored archaic insecurities. He searched his mind for a proper argument, realizing his primary responsibility was to her well-being and not to his comfort. It was the first time she'd trusted him enough to reveal an honest objection to their relationship, even if it was wrong.

“Perhaps such reasoning would work with obnoxious and self-righteous families that value people's bank accounts more than people's hearts. You have my word that my family is not one of those families. They haven't met you, and they already love you.” In spite of wanting to shake the nonsense from her mind, Marko kept his voice soft and reassuring.

“They already love me?” Kat asked, her pupils wide.

“They do,” he assured. “They love you because I love you.
Bella,
you are perfect for me. You are all I've ever wanted. Never doubt how you complete me.”

He watched her features change, could see the thoughts churn in her mind, and he recognized the moment she let go.

“Okay,” Kat said, slowly nodding. “I trust you, Marko. I do.”

The woman he loved had finally trusted him with her thoughts. Thoughts he knew were wrong, but her thoughts nonetheless.

“I love you,
bella
,” Marko said, empowered to love her as she should be loved. Taking her mouth, he kissed her with tender appreciation and assurance as he sank into the warmth of her body.

* * *

Amidst the soft snores leaving her lips, a loud rumble sounded from her stomach. Marko grinned and reached for the phone, but she stretched over him and stilled his hand. “What is it, Kat? I was just going to order some food.”

“If you don't mind, I'm ready to go home,” she said. “I'd like to sleep in our bed.”

Home. Their bed. No, he didn't mind.

“Maybe we could stop in the club's café for a quick snack?” Kat added, circling a finger in the middle of his abdomen. “I'm sure you need to replenish your energy.”

“I think it's you that needs to replenish your energy.” He traced a finger up her spine and massaged her nape. “The café it is.”

She uncurled from his body and reached for a bottle of water. “I like the cafe. It's peaceful and welcoming . . . and sexy. There is something freeing about being in a place where anything is accepted and we can just unwind.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was
unwinding
on his lap and waiting for her bisque to arrive. He liked the feel of her head resting on his shoulder and loved the way her body draped so sweetly over his. He considered keeping her at the club a little longer just to allow her more time to relax. After years of dancing around their relationship, she'd finally relaxed enough to confide in him. She'd trusted him.

“I like you like this,” he said against her hair.

“How's that?”

“Carefree and open.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Willing to accept.”

“I'm always open,” she said in a rather petulant manner. He tapped her butt. She scraped her teeth over her lower lip and shrugged. “It's this place. Or maybe it's our agreement. Probably it's you. You're a little different. A bit more demanding. You won't let me get away with things any longer.”

Fuck. If only he'd read her right from the beginning. “No. I won't.”

“It's a relief,” she admitted, straightening as the server placed the soup before them. “If you're willing to assume the consequences, it's possible to take a chance.”

“This is happening. It's not about taking a chance.” He adjusted her in his lap and handed her the spoon. “You and I are a we. In every sense of the word. I'm not letting you go again.”

She placed a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw, and his body tightened. Relief and anticipation mixed in his mind. She was his.

“
Bonjour, mes amis
. I am happy to see you have found your way,” Cyril said, appearing from behind them.

“Hello, my friend,” Marco said, extending his hand. “Please join us.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Cyril said. He pulled out a chair and sat. “We finally have an abundance of beauty between us.”

“We do,” Marko agreed and shook Cyril's hand.

“I'm guessing you two are more than casual acquaintances,” Kat said, her back going rigid. “Does that mean Cyril being on my flight was a setup?”

“No,” Marko snapped. “We discovered the coincidence an hour before you boarded at JFK.” He wasn't about to stand for her questioning him any further. He placed his lips close to her ear. “You've exceeded your questions. Eat your soup quietly.”

She sucked in a breath and looked down at the creamy concoction. “Okay.”

Her spine relaxed. He dropped a kiss on the side of her temple and turned his attention back to his friend and a typical conversation. “Was the trip successful?”

* * *

They returned home a little after three in the morning. Considering the repeated lovemaking and the fact Kat had dozed in his arms while he'd spoken with Cyril in the café, she was very chatty in their bed.

“So what did Cyril mean by ‘finally'?” Kat asked.

Chuckling, Marko let out a long breath and shook his head. “I think you've exhausted question number nine twenty times over.”

“Please. Tell me about it,” she purred, pushing against his chest and rising on an elbow. She gave him a sweet look and tapped a manicured finger on his chest. “Pretty please.”

“Rather convincing,” he said, rolling her on her back. He pinned her hands over her head and lowered his mouth to hers. Ending the kiss, he looked into her dark eyes. “But if you don't want to sleep, I can think of other things to do.”

“I want to talk,” she insisted. “How do you know him, and what did he mean?”

Marko shifted to her side, and folded his arm beneath his head. “I've known Cyril for years. We move in the same business circles. It was by Cyril's invitation that I came to be a member at the club.”

She propped her head on her hand and smiled. “Peculiar how Cyril invited us both to the club. Happenstance, I guess.” She smiled dreamily, the fatigue returning to her features, yet she didn't relax. “What did he mean by ‘finally'?”

“I've been helping subs find themselves for a while now. Over a year to be exact. I'd orchestrate scenes in the training room, sometimes play in the dungeon, but I never took one to the private rooms.”

“You only had sex in public?”

“No.” His knuckles strayed down her cheek, and he caressed along her jaw. “I have a rule against having sex in the club. I guided the subs, but I never kept one. When someone achieves subspace, they may lose rational thought, may not even be able to voice their safe word, so it is imperative that the masters act responsibly and on behalf of their subs. A good dom recognizes when his sub has had enough even before the submissive does. I personally believe a person within the grips of subspace may misconstrue sex for lovemaking. I didn't want that to happen.”

“We had sex,” she pointed out.

“First, you had not achieved true subspace and were in control of your faculties. Second, and most important, we made love,” he corrected, clasping her chin between his thumb and finger, and brushing his mouth down on hers. “Because I do love you, Kat. I love you with every fiber of my being.”

He treasured the gift of her acceptance above anything else he'd received. At last, he was empowered to look forward, both personally and professionally.

“Now, if we get some sleep, I'll be much sharper during my meeting, and I'll be able to come home to you earlier,” he said. “Then we can discuss our options on our own before we join the family and before your return to New York. Please.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased, snuggling against him, and running a small finger over his chest. “Marko, I love being with you. I love how this feels.”

Watching Kat sleeping in his bed had kept him awake all night, but when a man's dream came true, it was impossible to sleep. He didn't like the idea of her waking without him near, but maybe she'd sleep until his return.

Marko showered and shaved, dressed in a lucky suit, then dropped a soft kiss on her head before leaving the bedroom. Fearing the smell would wake her, he opted not to brew any coffee, and placed the burlap bag of beans next to the machine. He searched for her phone, typed out a quick message, then left for his meeting with a smile on his face.

* * *

At the bright hour often o'clock, way too bright for Kat's taste, she stumbled into the kitchen and found her phone propped on the coffee maker.

Disappointed that Marko wasn't home for a late breakfast, she was still excited for the day's outcome. If the meeting went well, which she was confident it would, there'd be three viable options for him to choose from. Four, if she counted the step down into the New York office of his current firm. But as she'd told him the previous day, she didn't want him to settle. He needed to choose the position that would be best for his career.

She reached for the phone, expecting a text about the progress, and in its place found a text from two hours earlier instructing her to read the note he'd entered. He hadn't wanted to chance waking her with a text alert at six-thirty in the morning.

 

 

 

 

Holding the phone to her chest, she did a little happy dance in the kitchen. For the first time in years, she saw herself as happily-ever-after material. So what if she had to make changes in her daily life? Her mother was doing well, her career was just starting to take shape, and she could stand to make adjustments for someone worthy. He was worthy. Unlike her, he'd actually shown in November. If Marko was willing to deal with her, she was thrilled to deal with him.

Deciding on good ol' boring home-brewed coffee, she got the coffee maker going and went to set up her laptop in the living room. After all, she was writing about Paris, and the view was the perfect inspiration.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and not only did she manage to categorize her notes, but she wrote a pretty great outline of the article. It wasn't difficult finding romantic things to say about Paris. What proved to be challenging was making it generic enough for readers to see themselves in it and not recognize Kat's personal story.

It was almost noon when her phone chimed an incoming text.

She immediately hit the voice call button, and he answered on the second ring.

“
Ciao, bella.
”

“
Ciao, bello
,” she responded. “How did it go?”

“It's still going,” he said in a low voice, sounding apologetic. “But, it's going very well, and it's not an opportune time to walk away. We're ironing out a few details, plus they want to examine a new direction they're considering for the company. I estimate a few more hours of discussions.”