“Giselle? Talk to me.”
She says nothing, resting her head on my chest, and I exhale, tightening my arms.
“Look, I’m angry for you. I’ll beat the shit out of him,” I say.
“Cumulous clouds are the mother of all other clouds . . . ,” comes Greg’s excited voice.
Her shoulders shudder, and my anger notches up, but I hold it in, tracing my fingers down her spine to rest on the waistband of her skirt, idly brushing at the place where her blouse is tucked in. “Baby, talk to me. How can I make it better?” My hands rub down her back, lingering at the top of her ass before starting at her shoulders again. Her hair brushes against my jaw, and she smells like vanilla, sweet and thick and heady. God. So fucking good.
Her body shivers, and I think she sniffs.
“Baby, don’t cry, please . . .” I try to ease away and tip her face up, and she grudgingly lets me. “You aren’t crying,” I accuse as we stop moving, and I see the glint in her eyes.
She laughs, stuffing her face in my shirt again. “Oh God, no. He’s so awful. I tried, I did, but if he talked about clouds one more time, I was going to stick a fork in his face.”
A grin tugs at my lips. “You don’t want to go meet his mom?”
She guffaws. “My own is enough.”
“Ego bruised?”
“It’s worth you dancing with me,” she says with a smile and tangles her hands in my hair as we start dancing again, and I have no clue if it’s a fast song or slow, but I don’t want her out of my arms.
“Did you eat at least?” I ask a few beats later.
She smiles. “Should have just stayed home and ordered from Milano’s.”
“Nah, it’s your birthday eve.”
“I’d rather sit on your couch and watch Shark Week.”
“Bloodthirsty beast.”
“You like it.”
“I love it.”
She laughs, and I laugh with her. Watching her, the curl on her red lips, the way her eyes linger on me, holding my gaze . . . a sense of urgency flies at me, digging deep and taking up space in my chest. I want to be alone with her—just her, just me . . .
“Come on; let’s get out of here.” Clasping our hands together, I head to the exit, and she follows me.
Before we get there, I look over my shoulder to see if Greg is going to protest, but he’s got his lips on the blonde. My fists curl, which is ridiculous, since she wasn’t really into him, but he’s a giant douche.
She seems to know where my head is, because she tugs me out. “Let it go, caveman.”
A while later we’re deep into Shark Week as we sit on the couch in the dark, eating more cookies Giselle insisted she make.
She hands me another one, fresh from the oven, then wipes at my mouth as I chew.
“What?” I say, swallowing my bite.
“Chocolate,” she murmurs. Her hair is up in a messy bun, glasses back on, her clothes changed out for her shorts and one of my old shirts. I whipped off my jeans and settled on gym shorts and a workout shirt.
She scoots closer and wipes at my lips again. “Stubborn spot.”
“It’s fine,” I breathe, freezing.
“No, let me get it.” She leans in and licks the corner of my mouth. A satisfied purr comes from her. “Yummy.”
I snatch the nape of her neck before she can pull away. “Did you seriously just lick me?”
She pauses, giving me a sheepish look. “I was . . . hungry?”
My chest rises. What am I doing? I should just go to bed. Now.
She stands up. “I’m going to bed.”
I grab her waist and pull her back down on the couch. “Oh, no you don’t. We’re watching TV.” Obviously I have two personalities.
Her head leans on my shoulder as she settles back onto the couch. “I warn you, I may fall asleep. It’s been a tough week.”
“I’m sorry about your professor.” She’d told me the details of her meeting with Dr. Blanton.
“He just made me more determined. I want my PhD, I want to write, and someday I will go to CERN.”
“How far away is Geneva?”
“Eleven hours and twenty-two minutes on a plane, roughly four thousand five hundred and ninety-eight miles.”
Too damn far.
“Stop! Go back!” she calls, her hands taking the remote out of my hands.
“What was it?” I say, expecting something horror related, but my face freezes when I see what show she’s landed on, her gaze intense as she leans forward.
“French film. It’s called My Night in Paris. Basically, the movie takes place during one night when the hero meets the heroine in a coffee shop, lures her back to his hotel, and fulfills her sexual fantasies. Here comes the part where he goes down on her. Best ever,” she says—with a serious face.