Page 48 of Say Yes to the Death

“Good.” She dropped her backpack on the floor and grabbed Luke by the jacket, yanking him roughly to her. Her suitcase toppled to the floor as her hands fisted his collar. It was hard to tell if it was the charm of Paris or her body betraying her with hormones, but she wanted—needed—Luke.

His tongue explored the inside of her mouth, and he gripped her so tightly that she nearly cried out. He reached down and cupped her ass, clad in her skintight jeans, lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist. He pressed her into the corner of the elevator. She wondered briefly if there was a security camera in the shaft.

Ha—shaft.

It felt like the first time again—their first kiss in Luke’s library. Her stomach somersaulted. His hands were magic. She threw her head back with a moan of pleasure, and Luke greedily sampled her neck, softly nibbling and kissing in equal measure. One hand moved from her back to her front and began a slow ascent, burrowing under her lace balconette.

She arched against him, desperate to be close. Between her former fiancé sleeping with her nemesis and the recent stabbing, Claire’s trauma had prevented her from opening herself—emotionally or physically—for months. But suddenly, she was open. She wanted Luke now.

The elevator dinged softly, jerking to a stop. Shit. Claire flailed, trying to withdraw her legs from around Luke. He set her down and her knees buckled. She landed hard on the faux marble floor of the elevator.

“Ahem.” A soft-spoken protest preceded the entrance of a smartly dressed woman, clad in black from head to toe.

Claire sheepishly righted her suitcase. What did she care if a French stranger caught her in a compromising position on an elevator? She would never see this stern Rachel-lookalike again. Luke grabbed Claire by one arm and pulled her to a standing position. She crammed herself into the corner of the elevator and tried to smooth her hair back down. Her tailbone ached from the impact.

Luke couldn’t hide his smile as Claire shifted uncomfortably. He checked his watch while they climbed another three floors before mercifully reaching the fourteenth.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” she said as she rolled her suitcase into the hallway. The hotel was more modern than the exterior and elevator suggested. Black and white were the predominant colors, with bold geographic designs claiming much of the wall space.

“Are you hurt?” Luke laid a gentle hand on her rear end.

“Just a mildly broken tailbone. Nothing that’ll get in the way.” She smiled as he unlocked the door to their room.

The black-and-white theme continued in their room. Heavy curtains decorated in fleur-de-lis covered the windows, and a thick white rug cushioned her feet.

Claire threw her backpack on the floor and shoved Luke backward onto the bed. She leaped on top of him and continued what they had started in the elevator.

He flipped her onto her back and planted a trail of kisses from her neck to the button of her jeans. When he arrived at her stomach, it growled like a feral cat.

“Ignore it,” she said, reaching to pull him back to her.

He laughed and dropped a kiss on her hand. “I believe I owe you a croissant.”

“But sex!” She wriggled and tried to pull her T-shirt over her head.

Luke stopped her. “I can’t concentrate with your stomach rumbling like a volcano. I need you to be in fighting shape. Croissant now. Sex later.”

Claire frowned and shoved him off her. Fighting shape? Was he going to ask her to run some type of obstacle course beforehand? “Fine. And some ground rules for when this does happen. Are you up-to-date on your STI screenings?”

He nodded. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Good. Same. I’m on birth control, but we’ll use backup protection regardless because a baby is not in my two-year plan. Understood?”

He nodded again and smiled. “Are you going to make me sign a contract? A non-disclosure agreement, maybe?”

“Shut up. I’m going to shower before we go. I’m still sticky from the ginger ale and Xanax cocktail that helicopter mom dumped on me on the flight.”

“Go ahead.” He set his toiletries bag on the dresser. “I have to make a call.”

She fought with the shower for a moment before figuring out how to adjust the temperature. For once, she didn’t think about her clients or the mysterious note as the warm water washed over her. Her attention remained on the fact that this was her first shower in France, which made it all the more enjoyable.

She opened the door a short time later in nothing but her towel. Surely Luke couldn’t turn her down if she was already naked. A sliding door she hadn’t previously noticed was open, leading to a tiny balcony with a table and chairs.

He stood at the railing, speaking on his phone.

She paused for a moment, simply admiring him. He was bathed in the golden light of the early morning, his button-down shirt rolled up to expose his devastating forearms. His jeans hung low on his hips, weighed down by the keys he carried even though his car was thousands of miles away. His shoulders were tense, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the railing.

She came up behind him and planted a soft kiss on his neck, right on top of the long, thin scar that disappeared below his collar. How did he get that scar? Even if she asked, he probably wouldn’t tell her the truth. But good lord, it was intriguing.

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