Page 108 of Cherry Beats

“Never,” he panted back.

I came hard, thighs squeezing together powerfully as my heart clenched in my chest. He soon followed—our breaths the only sound apart from the falling water and the unspoken things we weren’t admitting to one another yet.

Those seemed to be the loudest things of all.

I felt it in me.

I felt it from him.

“Cherry?”

“Yeah?”

“Before we leave this hotel, I want to screw you against every wall this suite has.”

I ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and clenched around him, watching as he shuddered in my grip and the goosebumps of his skin rose to life.

“You may have to consider getting rid of a few people from our room first.”

“I don’t care who watches.”

“Well, I do.” I chuckled.

He squeezed my arse cheeks and rolled me against him, tugging my body impossibly close. “Just give me the word, and I’ll block the whole world out for you. If it’s alone-time you want, I’ll piss people off to make it happen.”

“With an offer like that, how can a girl refuse?”

“My plan is to make sure you never say no to me again.”

“You can’t always have things your own way, rock star.”

“Watch me.” He grinned, and the look of happiness on his face made me want to throw in the towel, give up the fight, and admit my love for him there and then.

* * *

Two hours later, we’d eaten a room service dinner of the most beautiful steak I’d ever tasted, and we were now sitting on the balcony of the suite. The chairs alone were comfier than my sofa at home, and the hotel had created a wall of greenery that allowed those on the top floor to have some privacy, while also being able to enjoy the view of the Eiffel Tower, alight with twinkling promises of a magical world. Because that’s what Paris offered: magic. Even though we’d only been there a few hours, I already felt completely different to how I had done back home in England.

Being abroad made things seem less real.

It was easy to lose yourself in a fantasy like that.

Presley was opening our third bottle of champagne, aiming it at the night sky before he popped the top and began to refill my glass. I was only on my third. He, however, was drinking it like it was water.

“How are you not falling over?” I asked, unable to take my eyes from him.

Dressed in a white Four Seasons robe that was gaping at the chest, he fell into the chair beside me, propping his feet on the small coffee table in front of us and tipping his champagne flute to his lips. I watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, and I watched as he lowered it, sighed in contentment, and turned to face me.

“Practice makes perfect,” he offered without concern. “Plus, we’re celebrating.” Presley winked, and I couldn’t help but smile.

After our episode in the shower, he’d cleared everyone out of our suite and then guided me, still naked and shaking from the orgasm he’d just given me, and he’d laid me on the plush super-king-sized bed, spreading my legs wide and losing himself in between them with slow licks and teasing touches that built me up and up and up until all I could do was crash down to Earth with an explosive bang of pleasure. He’d whispered sweet things in my ear, saying how he’d make this the greatest trip of my life and asking me to trust him.

I do,I’d thought on repeat, unable to get the words beyond my lips.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, breaking me from my daydream.

“How surreal this all feels.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’m inParis.I’m with you. It’s all happened so fast. It’s crazy.”

“Crazy can be a beautiful thing.”

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