Page 38 of Filthy Rich

So, anyway. It’s all a done deal. After a beat or two, he works his magic on my overheated hormones, making it hard for me to remember what all this hoopla was even about.

“Fine.” I turn away because I can’t stand the fleeting glimmer of victory in his expression. But then I take a closer look at the car, and all my remaining sullenness floats away.

She’s sleek and sporty, all seamless lines and summer dreams.

“Ready?” he says when he comes back from signing the paperwork. “Where should we go first?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I say, reaching over the side and running my hand over the buttery leather seats. “This is the best day of my life so far. I don’t care if we spend the day at Monaco’s trash dump. It’s already been amazing.”

He laughs again as he opens the door for me and watches me slide inside and arrange my skirt around my legs. “Wait until you try the gelato.”

CHAPTER TEN

TAMSYN

“You’re starting to worry me.” Lucien flashes an indulgent smile at me over our late lunch and takes another slurp of his own soup. “Does Mrs. Hooper not feed you?”

“She does, but this is so good that I just might lick the bowl.” I abandon my spoon and break off another piece of crusty bread, using it to sop up the remaining drops of broth. “I’m sure everyone here expects me to behave like an idiot American, anyway.”

“I can think of more interesting things for you to lick,” he says, smirking.

“I’m sure you can,” I say with a sudden violent blush at this intriguing idea.

“And I’m sure they’d be happy to bring you another bowl.”

“I’m sure they would, but this is the end of my first ever bowl of bouillabaisse, and I want to savor it.” I pop the last of the bread into my mouth and let my eyes drift close as I chew. It’s impossible to stop a tiny orgasmic moan from leaking out of my mouth. Not the first one of the meal, I might add. “I’ll never have this moment again. Who knew that soup with giant filets of fish in a broth could be so amazing?”

“The French.”

We laugh together, the moment every bit as delicious as the meal we just shared. Then I take a second to savor my surroundings, still unable to believe the fabulous fortune that brought me to a place like this.

Our table overlooks the ocean on one side and the pink luxury homes terraced into the hill above us on the other side. Everything here is so vibrant, from the profusions of hot-pink flowers in pots everywhere, to the intensely blue sky overhead and the glittering water dotted with yachts and sailboats so far below. The sun feels warmer on my skin here. The gentle breeze seems way more refreshing than anything I ever felt back in New York. The food is more flavorful, every sound crisper and cleaner to my ears.

And he…

The quiet warmth of his eyes as he watches me. The banked intensity, as though I’m interesting enough to warrant all this attention. It’s so stupid and clichéd to say it, but I’ve never felt more alive. And that’s why part of me is so anxious about this whole situation.

This can’t be real. None of it. This can’t be my life. Even if it is only for a few days.

He notices, of course. He notices everything. “What?” he says, frowning.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I say, sounding exactly as shaky as I suddenly feel. “Everything is so beautiful. Everywhere I look. I could cry, it’s so beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. I meant to tell you that last night, but I got carried away,” he says quietly. “Nothing around here is as stunning as you are.”

“Except for you.”

I hear the quiet hitch of his breath as we stare at each other across the table. I note the rising color across the hard planes of his cheekbones and see the way his gaze dips to my lips, lingering there. I greedily notice the way he licks his own lips. And my equilibrium slips even further.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that in public,” I say, my pussy aching for him. Weeping for him.

Self-deprecating sound from Lucien. “You think I can control it?”

It all becomes too hot. Way too much. My sizzling skin seems in real danger of bursting into flames. Luckily, he takes mercy on me and looks away, rubbing his hands over the top of his head.

“So…” He pauses. Blows out a breath. “Speaking of first, how was your first day on the Côte d’Azur?”

That snaps me out of my sensual thrall. Thank God. “It was amazing. Amazing.”

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