Page 69 of One Night in Paris

Keeping the magazine away from her, I drove to my apartment, parked, and took her up to the penthouse. Maybe I should’ve just left the magazine here, but I thought I might have to resort to truly desperate measures and show it to her in the diner.

Once we were inside my apartment, I asked her to have a seat. Harper situated herself on the far end of the sofa, pushing her body up against the armrest, like the thought of me being anywhere near her was repulsive. The woman was truly going to great lengths to let me know she was dissatisfied with my previous choices.

Sitting down about two feet from her, I clasped my hands together, the magazine tucked under my arm, and said, “Harper, I’m really sorry about everything that’s happened. I can’t control what those awful gossip rags said about you, but I can fight it. So, I’ve done my best to do just that. Hopefully, this will fix the situation so those nasty rumors will die down, and those photographers will leave you alone.”

Looking out the side of her eye at me, she asked, “What did you do?”

Without a word, I handed her the magazine.

Harper took it, but her eyes stayed focused on me for a moment. When she finally glanced down, she said, “New York Happenings? This isn’t a gossip rag.”

I nodded. “No, it’s not. But millions of people around the world read it every month. I thought it would help solidify the truth of what we have between us—had—what we had.” Even saying that, using the past tense, made me choke up a little. I tried to hide it.

Harper looked at the cover, noticing the photo of us right away. It was the true picture from the Golden Gate Bridge, one a person walking by had volunteered to take for us. Turning to the article, Harper read the title out loud. “Architect Bachelor Builds a Foundation for the Future Based on True Love.”

Once again, her face scrunched up with confusion. “True love?”

“Just read it,” I urged.

Breathing in deeply, Harper began to read. My gaze stayed locked on her face, watching for even the smallest indication that she liked what she was reading. Slowly but surely, the more she read, the more her face began to soften, until, when she reached the end, her eyes were glistening.

“Is this true?” The question was barely a whisper. “It says… you’re falling in love. With me.”

Nodding, I assured her, “Yes, it’s true, Harper. In fact, I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t recognize it at first because I’ve never felt it before. But the moment you walked away from me, I realized it.” Scooting closer to her, I reached for her hand, and she gave it to me. “I love everything about you, Harper. I love the way you make me feel, the way you make me laugh. You make me a better man. The moment you enter a room, it lights up from your smile. You’re so smart, so brave, and loyal as hell. Harper, these last two weeks without you have been the worst of my life. I’ve missed you every single second. Maybe my love isn’t enough to fix everything that’s gone wrong. Maybe you don’t feel the same way. But I had to tell you. If I let you walk away from my life without telling you, well, I’d regret it forever. So… Harper Reynolds, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.”

Holding my breath, I waited for her to respond. I’d put it all out there, not just in front of her, but in front of the world. It had been a bold move, but I prayed it paid off.

She blinked a few times, and then Harper said, “Kiss me.”

38

HARPER

“Kiss me.”

Logan Winters loved me. Not only had he declared this truth to me—he’d told the entire world. The article he’d had published in one of the most popular magazines in the country was all about how he’d met this remarkable woman who was kind, good, and loving, and she had stolen his heart. It talked about how I cared for my mom and worked two jobs to make ends meet. How I’d calmed his racing heart when he tried something scary for the first time, and how we made one another stronger just by being together. Every single word of the article was poetry. It made my heart sing. How could I have been so stupid as to walk away from him?

Logan stared at me for a long second before asking, “Are you sure? Because I said I wouldn’t do anything unless you wanted me to.”

Giggling at him, I replied, “Oh, I’m sure.”

His face brightening, he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. That taste of cinnamon I’d been craving ever since the day I walked away from him filled my senses, immediately clouding my mind. Completely acting on instinct now, I pulled him closerto me, opening my mouth wider as our tongues continued to tangle.

Logan’s hands began to roam across my body. Suddenly, I was very much aware that I was wearing a grease-soaked, ketchup-stained, unflattering pink dress. I wanted out of it. Reaching for the buttons at the top, I began to unfasten them, but Logan’s fingers covered mine. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

His mouth descended upon my neck. My head fell backward, and his fingers moved quickly down the buttons until the dress was loose enough to pull off over me. The second his warm lips left my neck, my body chilled. Thankfully, he only pulled away long enough to remove my dress. Then, Logan’s hands slid between my bottom and the couch. Lifting me up, he wrapped my legs around him and stood.

The thickness of his cock rubbed against my damp panties with every move as he carried me into the bedroom and laid me down on my back on top of his comforter. Thoughts of that night in Paris rushed over me. I’d shown him everything that night, and I was ready to give him everything now. He tugged off my shoes and stood between my legs, his fingertips drifting across my thighs and higher.

Logan hooked his fingers through my panties and pulled them away, standing back and admiring the view. I let him, lazily brushing my fingers along my outer folds. It felt so much better when he touched me there.

Bending over me, he brushed kisses along my stomach, swirling his tongue through my belly button before he dropped lower. The first swipe of his tongue left me breathless. When he began to lap up my juices, I tangled my fingers in his hair and eagerly pressed him further, rocking my hips and crying out for more. Within seconds, I was a puddle of quivering flesh, my pussy pulsing against him. This man knew how to send me flyingover the edge of euphoria like no other. More than anything, I wanted him to join me there.

Gasping and moaning, I managed to get out, “Logan, make love to me. Please.”

The warmth of his breath against me as he laughed made me vibrate anymore. “I will,” he said, his voice muffled by his current position. “But I’m still hungry. That burger just wasn’t all that satisfying. But this? This hits the spot.”

How could I argue with a man who could make me completely come undone just through the use of his tongue? I couldn’t. Letting my head fall back onto the bed, I closed my eyes and let the intensity of his touch continue to wash over me.

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