Page 37 of From Paris, with Butter
My thin linen dress was plastered to my skin, and Laurent’s clothes weren’t much better. We were so soaked it felt as though there was nothing between us.
Laurent cupped my face, and his fingers traced the line of my jaw as the rain fell around us. Several raindrops slid into my mouth, and their coolness was a startling contrast to Laurent’s hot, probing warmth.
When I ran out of breath, I pulled away reluctantly, gulping air. Laurent was staring unashamedly at my chest. I realized that my bra showed clearly through my soaked dress. At least I’d worn one of my expensive bras, all lace and silk. My nipples stood out clearly under the thin fabric.
Through Laurent’s wet shirt, I took in every hard line of his chest. I’d never seen him so mussed. His hair, little wet squiggles now, dripped onto his forehead. His tie was thrown over one shoulder, and his shirt clung tightly to his abs. I looked again at his bare throat, glistening in the rain, and wondered hotly what the rest of him looked like under all those wet clothes. Then he pulled me back in, and every thought fled my mind as our mouths met hungrily.
Just then Laurent’s phone buzzed. Our thighs were still pressed tightly together, and I felt its vibration through my clothes.
With a groan, Laurent pulled back and fished his phone out of his pocket. As he read the text message, his shoulders slumped.
“Work. Of course. They always need something.” He looked at me and attempted a smile. “I’m sorry, Margot. They’re going to keep bothering me until I do this.”
Disappointment coursed through me, but Laurent’s sadness bothered me more. I hated to see him so upset.
“Don’t worry. Your work’s just keeping us respectable. I was close to pullingyour clothes off in the street.”
Laurent smiled, and some of the sadness lifted from his face.
“I guess we should go inside,” he said.
We held hands up the stairs and to my apartment door. There Laurent kissed me again, sweetly and softly.
“You know,” he said, his face still close to mine. “I forgot to ask what you thought of my second attempt at the quiche.”
Oh no.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Even though this gorgeous man had me trembling all over, I still couldn’t lie.
I swallowed hard. When I spoke, my voice was barely above a whisper. “The crust still tasted store-bought.”
Silence. I opened my eyes a sliver. Laurent was staring at me, nonplussed. I could only imagine what he thought of me, a woman he’d just wined and dined, then nearly ravished in the street, who couldn’t even bother to tell a white lie about his baking skills.
Laurent’s mouth opened, and I thought he’d make a sharp retort. But then he began to laugh.
That got me going, and we fell against each other in a fit of hysteria. I might have even started crying, but we were both so soaking wet I really had no idea.
Through my laughter, I dimly heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn’t until I heard Madame Blanchet’s voice that I jerked up and tried to get a hold of myself.
“Margot? Laurent? Are you alright?” she asked, her tone as unruffled as always.
“Yes, Madame Blanchet,” I assured her, hiccupping a little. I didn’t dare look at Laurent. I was barely holding my laughter back as it was.
“Well, that’s good. I was afraid someone was doing amphetamines in the hallway.” Madame Blanchet looked my rain-drenched self up and down. “I’m glad you chose a black brassiere, Margot. Too many young people are wearing this newfangled colorful lingerie. It’s tasteless.”
“Yes, thank you, enjoy your evening, Madame Blanchet!” Laurent said as I crossed my arms over my chest and died a thousand deaths.
After Madame Blanchet had retreated back down the stairs, I let out a strangled giggle.
“She’s going to tell all her friends about us.”
Laurent kissed me again. “I relish the thought.”
“But, how does she know what young people are wearing for lingerie?”
“Some questions are better left unanswered, ma chérie.”
Laurent kissed me a final time. “Now I really have to return this call. Thank you for understanding. Let me know when your next day off is, and I’ll start thinking of plans. Until then, I need to keep working on that quiche.” He smirked, his eyes soft and bright.
