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The manager, Madame Chevrolet, I learned from her badge, handed me the plastic card and pointed down a marble hallway. “Last elevator in the row will take you straight to your suite.”
“Merci beaucoup,” I called out over my shoulder in my best French accent as I strode away. My stomach was doing somersaults as I neared the lift doors. I couldn’t wait to see Jamie. I hadn’t seen him since a couple of days into the new year, when he’d flown back to the US.
The tour to Paris was his management’s doing, and I’d admitted to Jamie how nervous I was to be meeting him there.
Since the new year, we’d avoided an outright admission that we were together, although speculation had been rife that Jamie had a girlfriend. Not to mention the woman who had turned up in my bar with the same name as his sister who’d had been back to grill me twice, having seen the pictures from New Year’s Eve on Instagram.
Terry had spun her some bullshit story about Jamie being my actual pen friend, but we’d wanted to keep his identity secret so as not to spoil the night for the customers who’d already booked the New Year ceilidh.
As I went to push the button to call the lift car, the doors opened. My heart missed a beat at the sight of my sexy rock star boyfriend standing right there. With his back to the mirrored wall, he looked casual with his arms and ankles folded as he shot a grin at me. Immediately his arms unfolded, and he lurched at me, dragged me inside the lift car and crushed his lips to mine.
“You made it, baby,” he gushed when he’d examined my tonsils with his tongue and leaned back to look at me. He chuckled, grinning at what I guessed was my dazed, breathless reaction to him.
“Damn, Daisy, to look at you, you’d think I’d just fucked you six ways from Sunday.”
I stole a glance in the mirror and my usually pale skin was red, showing him how easily he’d set my body alight.
“Bonjour,” I rasped, still a little breathless. My body felt as wobbly as a toddler on a bouncy trampoline.
“Fuck, do you speak French?” Jamie asked, glancing down at me with heat in his eyes as the lift door opened into his suite. I hadn’t even felt the car move.
I thought at first, perhaps it was the lift ride whisking me up that had made me feel so lightheaded. Looking at Jamie again, I took in every inch of him and knew that just wasn’t the case.
“What do you think?” I asked, chuckling that my one word could have given him such an idea.
“I think if you speak French, I’d insist you spoke in that sexy as fuck accent every time, I gave you my cock.”
I laughed. “How crude of you,” I chided. “And anyway, you don’t” I waved my hand around trying to think of another way of putting it… “give me your cock, it’s still attached when you screw me,” I explained.
Jamie laughed. “Sure, I do. And you love it, if all the ‘Oh, Jamie, yeah, right there’, and ‘just like that’, were real. Tell me you haven’t been faking it,” he pleaded, walking backward from the lift with his hand over his heart.
My heart squeezed at his instant playfulness and I found that trait adorable. I laughed.
I felt myself blush. “Of course, I wasn’t faking it, but you have to admit, when you fuck me you… kind of give it to me and take it back, give it and take it—” I joked being crude about how we had sex.
Jamie covered my mouth with his, shutting me up. His passionate kiss made me moan into his mouth. He chuckled and a small groan took him by surprise as well. My heart skipped another beat when his arms tightened possessively, and he pressed his body closer.
Every time I saw him, a new colony of butterflies burst to life inside me. It had been six weeks since I’d seen him. Kissing my rock star boyfriend had not gotten old… not in the least.
Chapter 2
“Come,” he said, leading me over to a set of French doors by a small terrace. He moved me in front of him and slid his hands around my waist. The way he held me close as I looked over the city made me appreciate how much he treasured me.
“Do you see this, baby?” He asked loosening his grip just long enough to point at the Eiffel Tower in the distance and placed it back on my body, giving my hip a gentle squeeze. “One of the most romantic cities in the world and I have to work.” His voice sounded laced with disappointment and I reminded him our mutual schedules had brought us together.
“But that’s fine. I’m here with you… we’re here, and I’m so excited to watch you play in concert again. It’s been over two years since I attended a DistRoyed concert.”
Turning me toward him, he lifted my hand, straightened my fingers and placed a kiss at the center of my palm.
“God, baby, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again. I’ve missed you so much.”
His voice was barely a whisper as he gripped my hips and dropped his forehead on mine. He stared longingly into my eyes and in that moment, I never wanted to be anywhere else again. For a while neither of us spoke, just basked in the quiet of seeing each other again and being together.
“Six weeks is a long time,” I eventually said in agreement. “I used to think it wasn’t, but since meeting you it’s felt like an age. I’ll admit, being away from you is getting harder. Even on the plane, I became depressed at the thought I’ll have to leave you again too soon. I’ve only just gotten here and I’m already thinking this long weekend won’t nearly be enough.”
Jamie’s lips pinched into a line, like he understood my pain. He pulled his head away and slid his hand from my back to my hand, linking his fingers in mine. “Don’t think that thought, just kiss me,” he frowned, and quickly shirked his sadness away with a smile that spread a little too fast. “Come, let’s get you settled and find something for you to eat.”
“I’m not hungry, not for food… unless it’s one of those French Pastries,” I confessed, but then pouted. “I don’t want to waste time eating.”
