Page 29 of Je T'aime, Actually
They made out for what felt like hours, shifting and tangling slowly on the sofa as evening turned to night. Monroe’s skin still burned where Chloé’s fingers had brushed, where her lips had lingered. Her clit throbbed, sensitised and desperate after the slow tease of Chloé’s thigh, the way it had brushed between hers again and again as they moved.
It had taken everything not to pull her closer and beg for more.
French kissing would never be the same again. How could it be, now she’d experienced it like this? Not just lips and tongues, but heat and meaning, and the way Chloé made it feel like every kiss mattered.
Monroe exhaled softly, still curled beside her, their legs tangled loosely now. One of Chloé’s hands rested just above her hip, her thumb drawing lazy circles that made Monroe’s breath catch each time.
“I should probably let you go,” Monroe said quietly, though it sounded more like a question than a decision.
Chloé didn’t move. “Probably,” she murmured, nuzzling a little closer instead.
Neither of them moved. The clock ticked somewhere out of sight. Outside, the trees swayed in the breeze. And Monroe’s whole body screamed for her to say ‘screw it’—to let Chloé stay and press her down into the mattress and feel her way into morning.
But instead, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Next time…”
And Chloé nodded, pressing one last kiss to her jaw. “Next time.”
twenty-two
“So, I assume you’ve been gallivanting with the woman from the plane?” Leah asked the following morning as Chloé wandered into the lounge, still barefoot, hair half up.
Cup in hand, Chloé sipped the strong black coffee and smiled slowly. “If you mean, have I been enjoying my time here with a beautiful woman, while ignoring the chaos of my life, then yes, I have.”
Leah arched an eyebrow. “Well, it’s about time you got back in the saddle and rode a good woman again.”
Chloé huffed out a laugh. “That metaphor is horrifying before nine a.m.”
“True, but not inaccurate.” Leah shifted into a more comfortable sprawl on the sofa, stretching her legs. “Anais was a long time ago. You need someone.”
“I don’tneedsomeone,” Chloé said gently, lowering herself into the armchair opposite. “But maybe Iwantsomeone. Or...want to want someone.”
“That’s a lot of wanting in one sentence,” Leah said, but her smile softened. “She must be nice.”
“She is,” Chloé replied, a little too fast.
“And...”
“And it’s early. But it’s not nothing.”
Leah studied her for a beat, then nodded. “Alright. Just…don’t overthink it. You have a tendency to pack a parachute before you’ve even climbed the tree.”
Chloé smirked. “You’re creating metaphors again.”
“I’m emotionally invested. I’m allowed.”
They both fell into a quiet pause, the kind that only came with old friendship and strong coffee.
Finally, Chloé leant back and said, “She makes me feel...unguarded. Like I don’t have to perform or fill space.”
Leah took another sip from her mug and set it down with a soft clink. “So, what now? Are you staying a while longer?”
Chloé shook her head ruefully. “The meeting yesterday—” she started, before waving her hand as if brushing it aside, “went as expected, but the offer was better than we thought. It’s complicated, but I’ve got time to put things to the staff and see what they think. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Understandable,” Leah said, “although I’m slightly offended you didn’t come straight here after the meeting.”
Chloé gave her a sly look. “I got distracted…”
Leah chuckled. “Sheisvery distracting, apparently. You’ve got that post-good-date glow about you.”
