Page 52 of French Kiss

A chorus of “Aaahh” erupted from the front of the boat. The Eiffel Tower, bottom to top, stood resplendent and aglow in yellow light. The fine outline of its metal form was traced in tiny lights, all casting a mirrored shimmer of gold on the river.

In that moment, I knew I couldn’t be mad at the Eiffel Tower or Maddox anymore. The sight was just too beautiful. I was so lost in that marvel of architecture that I was caught off guard when Josh brought his hand up to my cheek and his fingers lightly guided my face to look at him.

When I did, I saw only seriousness in his eyes as he gazed back at me, different from the way he’d ever looked at me hundreds of times before. Then he lowered his lips to mine, tentatively at first like he wasn’t sure if I’d stop him.

I wasn’t sure either, but instead of mulling every angle and implication, I gave in to the moment, enjoying the newness of his lips, their contour and taste. I shifted to face him a little more squarely and reached to wrap my hand around the back of his neck. His lips were soft, and the only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn’t backing away.

Good lord. It felt too good.

Long overdue. And surprisingly hot.

He pulled me a little closer, and his tongue gently parted my lips and slid inside, grazing mine before circling and swishing and drawing me further in. I felt myself respond automatically, wanting to feel more of him, wanting to be carried away by him.

He drew back and tracked the outline of my lips with his finger. Every touch had a ripple effect.

He kissed me lightly before backing away to look at my face. Waiting for my reaction. It was all I could do at that point—react. Go with it.

Eyes never leaving his, I pressed my body in closer to him and felt him respond by pulling me in a little tighter. I wanted to stay right there with him in our little envelope of space on the back of the boat. It wasn’t about finding solace over a broken heart. It wasn’t about Maddox at all.

Instead I was fully invested in feelings for Josh that I didn’t even know I had.

Because I was so busy avoiding the bad boy in my life I’d completely overlooked the good one.

I could feeling the bubbling questions in my brain about whether I was making a mistake. The only way to quiet them was to press my lips against his and feel the fire ignite in every part of me. No, the first time wasn’t a fluke. Everything fell aside the second Josh’s lips connected with mine. His hand was so gentle, his fingertips brushing the side of my face and tangling in my hair. I felt chills down to my toes at his touch and I lost all track of where we were.

No one noticed us—their eyes were focused upward on the bright lights and magnificent soaring structure and the videos they were capturing on their phones—but it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. The only thing that mattered was him.

Josh pulled back, his eyes searching my face to see what I was thinking. I could barely control my racing heart, let alone say a word, so I folded myself closer into him, putting my head on his shoulder and wrapping my arm more tightly around him.

“I guess I picked the cheesiest moment to kiss you,” he said finally, which made me laugh. It was so Josh, overthinking and self-critical but at the same time not about to let any doubts alter his course.

“It was the perfect moment.”

“So… that was okay? You’re not mad?”

“Hardly mad. I guess I’m just… I hope that wasn’t a pity kiss,” I said.

He scanned my face as if looking for more information. “Are you kidding? I’ve been wanting to do that for three years.” Then he looked concerned. “Should I be asking you the same thing? Was that just your way of thanking me for meeting you today.”

“Well, it was an amazing day. But, no. Not even close.” And by way of additional explanation for how my brain was processing the wild fluttering in my chest, I tilted my face upward to kiss him again, reveling in the way my body responded to the taste of his lips. Insides twisting. Heart pounding. I needed to feel the surge of emotion I’d felt moments earlier, if only to prove it was real.

The boat had made another U-turn and was drawing closer beside the Eiffel Tower, moving right under its glow, when the entire structure suddenly started to flicker like a Fourth of July sparkler, with lights dancing and hopping over its surface, fully animated and aglow. Behind us, a chorus of appreciative chatter in several languages conveyed the approval of the others on the boat, each of us watching the magical sight of the lights flashing like tiny light bulbs against the darkening blue sky.

“Every hour, on the hour, it does that,” Josh said, ever helpful. “We timed it perfectly.”

“Thank you, tour guide.”

I was torn between the urge to take pictures of the sparkly tower and the desire to hold tight to Josh and see what it would be like to kiss him for the next two hours. Well, not really torn. I took a few photos then turned so my back was against the railing and Josh had his arms around me.

This time, neither of us was tentative. I pulled Josh closer, my arms around his neck, while he leaned his weight into me. All the things I’d wondered about him over the years—the vague questions about what it would be like to kiss him—were answered in ways I never could have anticipated.

I want this. Oh, how I want this.

I forgot all about the lights and the scenery and only focused on him.

We stood in our same spot at the back of the boat for the rest of the ride back to the Pont Neuf, with our arms wrapped around each other as our guide continued her descriptions. “The Musée d’Orsay is located in the former Gare D’Orsay, a beaux arts rail station, and holds the largest collection of impressionist and post-impressionist masterpieces in the world…” She went on to name Manet, Monet, Renoir, and other prominent artists whose works were on display there.

I barely heard any of it, distracted by an acute awareness of every nerve in my body responding to Josh’s touch. His arms were encircled tightly around me, my back to his chest. I leaned against him and looked up at the sky, which was now a deeper shade of blue. The lights on all the buildings looked especially yellow against that sky, and the wind blew lightly over us as we sailed along.

I could have stayed on that boat with him all night long, reveling in the feeling of that first kiss and not at all worried about where things would go from there. I knew we’d have to talk about it.

Eventually.

I’d deal with that later. For once, I was in the moment.

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