Page 94 of Crazy In Love
“I’m fabulous. Thanks for the orgasms. I feel like a new woman.” She shrugged. “I might have to find me a random lover whenever I visit a new country.”
A random lover?
“I’m far from random.” I gave her a look and leaned over her, my arm pressed against the door above her head, caging her in. “And I don’t recommend picking up random lovers in new countries.”
Her tongue moved along her bottom lip, and then she smiled. “I’m just saying. No-strings-attached sex is fabulous. I don’t know why I’ve been living with so many rules all these years.”
Her hair was a wild mess of freshly fucked waves falling around her shoulders.
Hell, I wasn’t ready to leave. I was hoping for round two.
And I sure as fuck did not want to hear about her plans to have sex with other men.
This is unexpected.
Why the fuck did I care?
I was just about to ask her if she’d like another go at it—you know, to get all thoughts of other men out of her mind—whenshe pressed her hands on my chest. “It’s been real, Chadwick. I’ll see you tomorrow after your meeting.”
She wanted me out of here.
I stepped back. “Sounds good. What are your plans for tomorrow while I’m gone?”
“I’m going to go explore Paris. Go see the Eiffel Tower. Maybe I’ll meet a handsome Frenchman at a cute coffee shop.” She chuckled.
What the fuck was going on here?
“You need to be careful. You’re in another country, and you don’t know anyone. Keep your phone on you, and I’ll be back around noon.”
“Don’t worry about me, lover boy. I’m going to be just fine.” She glanced at the doorway, as if she was encouraging me to step through it.
“All right. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. We’ll go check out the fireplace, and we can grab dinner after.”
“Sounds like a plan. Good night.”
Before I could even respond, she’d pushed the door closed.
I should’ve been happy. I didn’t want it to be weird. I didn’t want the girls to find out and be pissed off at me about it.
I walked next door to my room and tossed my key on the dresser.
I’d had a long day, and I was ready to take a shower and get in bed.
Alone.
Exactly the way I liked it.
So why the fuck was I still thinking about Emilia Taylor?
twenty-six
. . .
Emilia
I’d handledmy first fling like a champ. I wasn’t clingy. I didn’t ask if he liked it.
I could tell he did.
