Page 44 of Kiss & Collide
“It was a joke. I didn’t realize Caroline was a work thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. You were just thinking about getting laid and Caroline was pretty.”
“Not her. You.”
She swiveled to look at him again. “Excuse me?”
That night he’d looked up and seen Violet across the room, and before he knew it, he was heading straight for her, like she was a magnet.
“I went over there for you. I wanted you.”
“You did not,” she scoffed, but there was a blush creeping up her cheeks.
“Idid. But you looked at me like I was something you’d just scraped off your shoe—”
“Because I was in the middle of a work thing!”
“I know that now. But then? I just figured you weren’t interested. So I started talking to Caroline. She was nice.”
“I’m sure she was.”
“It all worked out in the end, right?” Without really thinking about it, he reached out and slid a hand up under her hair, squeezing the back of her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Touching you.”
“Why?” She froze.
He shrugged. “I like to. And it’s not like I haven’t done it before.” He leaned in closer. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had my hands and mouth on every inch of your body at this point, Violet.”
“That’s different.” But she didn’t shrug him off, so they stayed like that, watching the Seine.
18
“They put us up in a good hotel,” Violet remarked as they rode up in the elevator to Chase’s room a couple of hours later. There were mirrors on all four sides, throwing back the reflection of the two of them standing side by side in tense silence.
There shouldn’t be any nerves involved in this at all. They’d done this so many times.
She couldn’t figure out why this felt different. Maybe she’d just spent too much time around him today, without a race to focus on, or Pinnacle to deal with. Just … them. Plus, she’d told him about Ian. She didn’t tellanybodyabout Ian. She hadn’t even told Mira about him, not in detail anyway. What had possessed her to tell Chase, of all people?
Maybe it was that Chase met Ian? And in some weird way, she felt like she owed him some small explanation. Which was absurd. You only owed explanations to people you were in relationships with.
The elevator dinged on his floor.
“After you,” he murmured. “Room four twenty-six.”
She walked out ahead of him, feeling his eyes on her back like a physical touch. Like earlier on the Pont des Arts, when he’d touched her, a casual, affectionate …caress.
Inside the room, it was dark, but the curtains were open, letting in a wash of city light.
“You’re right, it’s a good view,” she murmured, dropping her bag inside the door.
She heard a rustle as he stepped up behind her. Then he put his hands on her hips and turned her around. Before she knew what he was doing, his hand had come up to the back of her neck, cradling her in that same spot, as his mouth came down on hers.
Part of her wanted to pull away. She was already feeling crowded and antsy and too close. But then his tongue was in her mouth and she just … forgot all that. He was honestly such a good kisser. And his tongue … it was wicked, what he could do with that tongue. She reached for his shoulders, sliding one hand up into his hair, that gorgeous hair she’d been staring at all day. His free hand slid down to her ass and grabbed her, pulling her hips in tight against his.
Then, as he held her in his tight grip, he began walking her backward across the room. He didn’t stop until she felt the cool press of glass against her shoulder blades. He grasped her hips and spun her around. Paris lay out below her in glittering lights. Her palms spread out against the glass.
