Page 138 of Tangled Hearts
The music hit and Noir took the runway.
It was Cash’s song, which made the reason they were in the back from the jump make sense.
She wanted to jump up and down but Noir was a professional. She kept her best resting bitch face on full display.
She strutted down the runway like she was a veteran. She looked past the cameras, keeping her eyes straight. When she reached the end, she posed for the flashing cameras and turned around. On the walk back, she caught Cash in the wings, mouth parted like he wanted to cheer out loud but kept it cool for her. The rush swarmed her chest. She wanted to laugh.
Backstage exploded. The designer hugged her, the crew tapped her shoulder like she’d saved their night.
Cash pulled her aside, hands cradling the back of her head, foreheads pressed together. “Proud of you, pretty girl.” he breathed. “The finest one here.”
“Just here?” Noir purred, pushing her chest into him.
Cash looked around. “I can show you how you’re the prettiest girl in theworld.” He swiped his tongue against her lip.
They had a late dinner across the river. They dined on oysters and steak frites, while bubbles popped. It was a celebration and Cash was pulling out all the stops. They got celebrity treatment everywhere they went.
Cash ordered for them in practiced French. That made her grin.
“You showing off,” she teased, swinging a fry.
“For you,” he shrugged, unbothered, “always.”
Noir leaned back, watching him sign a napkin for a busboy and slip him a bill. A warmth spread through her that wasn’t just the wine. She thought of Christian—his pull, his chaos, the way she once believed she could fix him. It hurt to admit she had loved him with everything she knew back then. It also hurt to realize she could love Cash now with everything she was learning to be. Two truths. One heart.
Guilt tugged, then let go when Cash touched her knee under the table and looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth watching.
“Where yo’ head at?” he checked. “You good?”
“Yea.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I’m… happy.”
“Good.” His smile softened. “Let it be that.”
They spent a few more hours curling into each other over dinner. Noir loved Paris. It truly seemed like a place for lovers.
They reached the hotel after midnight. They were staying at a suite high enough to touch clouds. Floor-to-ceiling windows threw the city’s lights across their skin. Cash tipped the bellman again and locked the door behind him.
His movement wasn’t rushed.
He hung up her coat.
He placed her heels by the wall.
Then he poured her some water and handed it to her.
“You walked a runway tonight,” he murmured, thumbs circling her waist. “In Paris. Remember this for the days you doubt yourself.”
“I won’t forget.”
Pulling her into him he kissed her slowly, tasting the night on her lips. Noir melted into him, her hands slid up his chest, fingers hooked in his chain. He lifted her onto the edge of the bed, mouth trailing along her jawline, down her neck, across her collarbone. She tugged his shirt up. He stripped it off and tossed it aside. His hands mapped her curves like he was making a promise with his palms.
“You feel safe?” he checked, eyes on hers.
“I feel seen,” she answered.
He eased her dress off, careful with the fabric, careful with her, always. The city glowed behind them. Her breath deepened. He took his time, tasting the hollow of her throat, the top of her breasts… lower and lower, until her fingers tightened in his hair and her thighs trembled around his shoulders.
“Cash,” she whispered, voice breaking into a plea that wasn’t about permission anymore, just want.
