Page 64 of French Kiss

“Um, we’re in France. It was supposed to be a joke.”

“There are Italian restaurants here. We could find one,” Josh said, always up for anything.

“I feel like it’s conventional to eat the food of the place you’re visiting.”

“Since when do you care about convention?”

“True. How about this—you tell me what you feel like eating, and I’ll find us a place.”

He looked confused, like he’d never considered that his tastes or opinion on the matter was a factor. “Oh. I don’t know. Honestly, I could kind of go for a salad.”

For some reason, that made me laugh. It was so un-French and so him. We asked our waiter, who spoke flawless English, to give us a few recommendations, and we ended up at a brasserie back on the Left Bank, where the menu did offer an array of salads along with omelets, which suddenly sounded very good to me.

From the outdoor table where we sat, I watched people walking past, some carrying baguettes and sacks of produce to bring home for dinner, others chatting with friends. At the tables around us, some people were just having drinks. Others were eating oysters or smoked salmon or lamb chops. I couldn’t have been happier with my eggs, and I could tell Josh liked his salad.

“I wondered how your vegetable-loving self got by here with all the rich food,” I said.

“There’s a ton of produce. The whole farm-to-table thing. It’s not hard to find fresh stuff.”

“I guess I figure I can get salad at home. Here I should eat butter and sauce.”

“You should,” he said.

“And eggs, apparently. These are so yum.” It didn’t hurt that they came with a large side order of shoestring fries, which I devoured as well. Another huge meal, another glass of wine. Pure bliss.

* * *

The sun was finally down,so I knew it had to be close to ten at night. Josh put his arm around me on the Pont des Arts, where we watched the sky’s dusky pinks turn to pale blues over the Seine. We stood there for a long time, long past the point when the sun had set, long after the sky turned a deeper blue. The air was still warm, but a comforting breeze rustled around, giving us an excuse to huddle a little closer.

“You know, we’re really close to your hotel. And I know a shortcut,” he said.

“Impatient to get to the hotel, are we?”

“I was just trying to be efficient. I know efficiency is important to you.”

“So considerate.” I said, as we walked along the pedestrian bridge.

Josh led me across the road and through a small doorway to the left of the Académie Française. He was explaining the Académie’s function of maintaining the integrity of the French language, but I was barely listening, thinking only about whether I’d paid enough attention to the bra and panties I’d put on in the morning. Are they seductive enough? The night before had been perfect. What if tonight doesn’t measure up?

My legs were tired, my body felt relaxed, and getting back to the room was my singular objective. Once through the doorway to the right of the Académie Française, we were back on the Rue de Seine, just a couple of blocks from the hotel. Josh had stopped talking at some point, but I couldn’t have said when.

I didn’t ask if he was okay. I was too preoccupied with the soundtrack playing on repeat in my head, wondering about how things would be when we got upstairs. Would it be as good as the first time? Would it be better?

We took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the door to the room, barely able to get through the entryway before our mouths connected and our hands were everywhere.

“I’ve been wanting to—” I didn’t let Josh finish.

“Don’t talk,” I said. “Show me.” We fell on the bed, Josh squarely on top of me, and this time I didn’t give a shit about whether I’d left the place a mess. It might have been straightened up in our absence, but I didn’t notice. It felt blissful to be lying on a soft mattress after all that walking, and a part of me just wanted to lie on my back and let Josh take me wherever he wanted to go. I felt like I would follow him anywhere. I’d never been able to say that about anyone before.

Josh’s mouth fell hard on mine and the feel of his full lips sent my insides into a twisting churn of wanting. Of needing him closer, wanting to feel every part of him. My lips parted and his tongue didn’t hesitate before pushing inside and beginning a sultry dance with mine. Hands everywhere, bodies pressed together. Wanting more. And also wanting to slow things to a syrupy crawl so I could enjoy every touch and heartbeat. Being with him this way was still new, and I didn’t want to rush through the good parts.

Our kisses became slower and more languid, our hands taking their time. Josh pushed up onto his hands and kissed my neck, my jawbone, the tender spot near my ear.

“You know… I don’t have anywhere pressing to be,” he said, his voice a quiet growl in my ear.

“Glad to hear.”

“I’m just saying… maybe we take it slow.” He was noticeably breathless, rolling to one side.

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