Page 197 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“Idolove you,” I whispered as one more tear trailed down my cheek. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much I want to tear the feeling out of my heart, then shove it back in because I know I couldn’t live without it. I don’t know what to do with these feelings—they’re too much, they’re too?—”
“Shh.” Nathan pulled me back into his chest and gently rocked me side to side as he stroked my hair out of my face. “I know. I know.”
“Do you?” I sobbed, not even caring that I was probably streaking eyeliner and makeup across his perfect shirt.
One of those broad hands came up to cradle the back of my head. “I do. Better than you think.”
We rocked like that for a moment, back and forth, a quiet, kind repetition that gradually soothed my soul enough that the tear began to ebb, and I was finally about to look up at him again.
Nathan framed my face with his hands, using his thumbs to brush the last of my tears away.
“So beautiful,” he murmured.
He didn’t look away. Not even a little.
“Can I kiss you?” His voice nearly floated away on the wind.
I popped onto my toes. “Do you really need to ask?”
“I’m just checking. Consent is important. Especially in moments like these.” He took a step closer. “Giovanna,” he said in that particular way of his, like he was tasting something extraordinarily sweet. “Joni.”
I hummed in response. “Nathan,” I whispered, but more to myself than to him.
“Can I kiss you now?”
By that point, his gaze was roving. Hungry. Like he couldn’t keep it in one place because there was much to take in. Then his brown eyes met mine like he was forcing them to stay. Wide and open.
Chocolate.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”
We stared at each other for a few more moments. Then Nathan Hunt—my fake boyfriend who had somehow become my true love—slipped his hand around my waist and placed his mouth with the same precision that seemed to direct every action in his life. Maybe even led him to me.
It was a kiss like no other.
Slow but deliberate, it deepened into something that reached to the bottom of my toes and tugged, linking my soul to his like a chain forged from steel. His tongue found mine with a deep caress that seemed to caress my heart.
And he didn’t stop. He didn’t pull away. He kissed me and hugged me and loved me until I’d had my fill. Until we’d both gotten everything we needed.
Or at least what we could there on the bank of the Seine.
He pulled away with a gasp, and I whimpered in his response. My hands clutched his hair, unwilling to release the silky locks. He only smiled as he untangled their grip and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
“I think,” he said, “we should go back to my hotel.”
“Why there?” I asked.
“Because I don’t think your sister will appreciate it if I ruin her apartment. And for the things I want to do to you right now, I’ll need some extra space.”
FORTY
BEST KINDS OF SEX
#5 Get Back Together Sex
The light was still pink the next morning when I woke up in Nathan’s suite in yet another part of Paris I hadn’t even thought to explore.
Two months I’d been here.
