The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“Careful,” he said gently, still holding my hand to steady me, despite the brass handrail.

“That was... intense.” I eased down and sighed. “You were not fucking around.”

“Neither were you. Well done,” he said with a laugh, getting in to sit behind me.

I leaned back, much preferring his warm body to the cold porcelain. “I can’t believe I could handle all of that.”

“I had my doubts. I thought you would use the safe word at one point. I was considering stopping at that point.” He threaded our fingers together beneath the water, raising my hands with his as he wrapped his arms around me.

I giggled. “Oh, with the flogger?”

“Yes. Your eyes were the size of dinner plates. Just a second after I hit you, I thought, ‘oh, she didn’t like that.’” He laughed with me, trailing drops of water up my arm and over my shoulder.

“You did it once more after that,” I reminded him.

“That’s why I only did it twice. Once to try it out, and again to let you decide. I knew you’d tell me if you didn’t like it.”

I sat up and looked back at him. “You knew I’d want to do it more than once to make a decision?”

“I think I know a surprising amount about you, considering how new our relationship is.” He gazed up at the ceiling as he considered. “I know you’re terrified of needles and blood, I know you’re capable of becoming exceptionally angry on subjects you’re passionate about.”

“I know you’re afraid of elevators and airplanes,” I interrupted.

“That I am.” He stretched one long leg out to flip down the tap and turn off the water. “I know that when you let yourself love someone, you love them without reservation.”

I thought the swell of emotion I felt for him at that moment would crush my ribs. “I know you give away more of your heart than you can stand to lose.”

He pulled me back again, and I twisted to lay on my side, my cheek against his chest, just above the water.

“That I do.” His deep voice rumbled beneath my ear, as did his contented sigh. “But I carefully assess the risk first. You’re a good risk.”

“How romantic,” I said dryly.

His arm tightened around me. “Take the damn compliment, Sophie.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I’d arranged to meet Holli at a cafe she’d fallen in love with, across the river from the Île de la Cité. Neil had gotten directions from the concierge for me.

“Are you sure you don’t want a car to take you?” Neil asked from the bed as he watched me wind a pale pink patterned scarf around my neck.

I shook my head. “No. Are you sure you don’t want to come with?”

He wasn’t dressed to come with. He wasn’t dressed at all, and the lure of warm, sleepy skin was so tempting. But I hadn’t seen my best friend in weeks, so it was an easy temptation to overcome.

“And impose on your reunion?” He lifted his gaze from the iPad screen he was reading and peered at me over his thick-rimmed glasses. “Never. Besides, I’ll be fine here. I have some final arrangements to make for our sight-seeing tomorrow.”

I twirled in a circle, my floaty skirt flaring out as I spun. In ivory layers of silk with cherry blossoms printed on it, it matched the pink, fitted scoop-necked t-shirt under my white pea coat. “How do I look?”

He pretended to regard me critically for a moment. “Like someone who wants to role play a very naughty ‘innocent virgin’ scenario when she gets back.”

I grinned at him and went for my purse.

“You’re certain you can get around the city all right?” he asked, a hint of nervous father in his tone.

“Hey, I’ve lived in New York for the past six years. I think I can handle Paris.” I went over to lean down for a kiss. I meant to make it a quick peck, but his hand came up to cover the back of my neck and pull me down further. My mouth parted in surprise, and he sucked at my bottom lip.

I moved away reluctantly. “I don’t want to be late.”

“If you get lost or have trouble, just find a taxi stand, get into a taxi and say ‘emmenez-moi á hotel Plaza Helene s’il vous plaît’.” he advised.

“What does that mean?” An uncertain smile tugged at my lips.

“I’m lost, please do not take advantage of my nubile young body while helping me.”

I snorted. “What does it really mean?”

“Take me to the hotel Plaza Helene please.” He gave me another quick kiss and released me. “Go. Have a good time.”

Riding down in the elevator, I felt a thrill of trepidation. Getting around a city where I didn’t speak the language was more daunting than I had expected when I’d tried to run away to Tokyo as a teenager. Now, I understood the importance of communication; I resolved to pick up Rosetta Stone or something when we got back to London. I would start with Icelandic.