Page 16 of Sinful Temptations

Holy hotness.

Placing the napkin aside, I cleared my throat. “You know.”I curled my lip through my teeth. “I’m not actually hungry,” I lied. I was ravenous, but my stomach could wait.

His eyes danced from my cleavage to my lips, to my eyes, to the front door, and back again. He placed his hands on my cheeks and drew our lips together. Our kiss was soft yet intentional, with passion and familiarity that only two lovers could share.

Clutching my hands, Pierre eased back, his eyes absorbing me, his tongue slicking his lower lip. His attention had me believing I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

I could be the cover girl on any magazine.

I could turn heads, and not because I was a freak of nature, but because people envied me. They wanted to be like me. Big-boobed, frizzy-haired me. The woman who drove Pierre wild with lust.

I was on top of the world.Woo-hoo.It’s damn good to finally be up here.

Pierre raised a finger. “Wait here.”

He dashed off, and as I giggled at his eagerness, he whizzed around the restaurant like a man possessed, turning off lights, powering down equipment.

Within minutes, he was back at my side, apron removed, and I was pretty sure he’d refreshed his cologne. His delightful musk scent had me deciding that I needed my own fragrance. One that represented who I was. The one and only perfume I’d ever owned was a Christmas gift I’d received from William early in our relationship. I’d tossed it with the bulk of his leftover stuff when I’d kicked him out of our apartment.

I’d hated that perfume anyway—it had made me sneeze. It was the reason why I’d never ventured down the perfume aisle at Marks & Spencer.

Pierre rescued me from my tumbling thoughts byreaching for my hand and touching his lips to the back of my palm. “Shall we go,mon beau?”

I blinked at him, at the dirty dishes lining the table behind him and back again. “Go? But what about?—”

“Not important.” He flicked his hand. “You, Daisy, are important.”

Giggling, I nodded. “Only if you are sure. I could help you?—”

He gasped. “No. No. No. We have no time to waste.” He stood, and holding my hand, eased me to standing. Kissing the back of my palm he then pulled back, grinning like a man who’d won a Ferrari.

Flipping the sign on the front door to closed, he shut it behind us and strode to his Vespa. A man on a mission. I tugged on the helmet, and he kicked the bike to life.

I wriggled onto the seat, clutched my arms around his waist, and reveled in all kinds of wonderful as Pierre whisked us through the busy streets.

My gaze snagged on one fascinating Paris scene after the next. My mind danced from the thrill of what we were doing now to what we were going to do once we reached his apartment. And despite the numerous potholes we scooted around and barreled through, my boobs managed to stay contained within the sheer lace of my bra.

It was a fashion marvel.

We left the bustling traffic and entered his narrow cobblestoned lane. His neighborhood had looked beautiful during the day—at night it was even more stunning. Twinkle lights dotted the balconies. Potted plants were bathed in a variety of colored decorations providing enough glow to see all the Vespas lined up like a sales presentation.

The neighbors looked to be competing for the best-presented home. I’d never seen anything like this growing upin trailer parks. Hell, we’d never even owned a potted plant—at least not a live one.

Pierre parked the Vespa outside his turquoise door and quickly hustled me forward. “Quick, get inside before Mrs. Bauchenne sees us.” He spoke in a hushed whisper as he wrangled the key into the lock.

The door banged open.

“Shit.” He scowled as we stumbled into his entranceway.

Dashing past a collection of shoes and umbrellas, we scrambled up the internal stairs, giggling like a pair of streakers on a nudie run.

At the top, I tossed my handbag onto the nightstand beside the bed and turned, ready to jump Pierre’s bones. In a flash we were kissing. Our hands were all over each other.

Greedy. Hungry.

I clawed my fingers through his hair, down his back, over the bulge in his pants. He squeezed my breasts, thrust his hips forward, and moaned enough to confirm I was driving him wild.

He heaved a breath and eased backward, his eyes alive.

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