Page 69 of The Heir
With a groan, I complied and let her feet touch the ground again.
Her gorgeous eyes had a playful expression in them as she placed her hand on my chest and slid it downward slowly. I held my breath when her hand moved around me and stopped on my left cheek. With a naughty smile, Linea squeezed my ass. “I always wanted to do that. You have the sexiest butt in the world.”
Her words made my belly do a flip and again, my need for her exploded. “If you marry me, you can touch it as much as you want to.”
Linea let go of my pants and watched me with a cheeky smile before she brushed her thumb across the edge of my lips. “Thor, you don’t know what you’re saying. What we’re experiencing right now is intense lust. From the moment we stepped out of the drone I felt the shift. We’re getting affected by the energy waves of the French. They think about sex all the time. I promise you that when we’re back in the Northlands, you’ll be grateful that I didn’t take you up on your proposal.” Backing away from me, Linea kept watching me with hunger in her eyes.
“No, it’s not like that. I wanted you before we came here,” I protested and reached out my hand for her.
“It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We don’t have to marry to have sex,” she said just as she turned a corner with a small wave.
“This conversation isn't over,” I called after her, but Linea never answered me.
CHAPTER 17
Nighttime in France
Linea
Our last night in France we partied again.
Now that I’d been part of the delegation from the Northlands, I had a much better understanding of what the summits were about.
My favorite parts had been the brainstorming sessions on how to improve life for people around the world. But I also loved the many social events that had brought us closer together. It was fascinating how the French and Northlanders could argue fiercely during negotiations and then drink and laugh at night. Tonight, the French had hosted a last closing party and I’d seen Mason and Indiana try to teach Victor and Isaac how to do manly handshakes like they did in the Northlands. The choreography had confused the French and their attempts had made Mason and Indiana laugh out loud.
My respect for the Motlanders grew as I watched them counterbalance the volatile temperaments of the French and Northlanders. Several times they intervened when the negotiations would have otherwise broken down.
It was beautiful to see the Motlanders arrive with an agenda and skillfully find a way to get what they came for. Their approach reminded me of water finding a way around hard rock. I suspected that over these many years of muddy discussions, the Motlanders’ fluid approach had shaped the others just like canyons and rivers are formed by the patient forces of Mother Nature.
As I lay in bed next to Celeste, who shared her apartment with me this week, I couldn’t fall asleep. So much had happened these past weeks.
From Sparrow’s wedding in the Northlands, to me finding Thor in the Motherlands, and him bringing me to the summit in France.
I reflected on how unpredictable my life was and how I’d never imagined that Thor would propose to me.
The mental image of him falling to his knee made me turn on my side and pull my duvet higher. Thor was arrogant, aggressive, and inconsiderate at times. I’d spent years avoiding him and yet, here I was, fearing not what my life would be like with him, but without him.
Would I ever experience the kind of passion we shared in the hallway today?
Would I ever be able to visit the Northlands again and see him married to someone else?
Would I live to regret that I didn’t take the chance to explore the attraction between us?
Could I be the gentle water that would round Thor’s sharp edges?
Turning on my other side, I tried to do my breathing exercises and let my body calm down enough to sleep. It didn’t help.
Thor had said he needed me today. It had sounded urgent and sincere.
I need him too.
It sounded ridiculous in my head.
It’s not like I love Thor. We don’t even know each other that well. I’m just horny. That’s all it is.
And yet my heart whispered of a young girl’s dream.
A knock on the door made me sit up.
