“I still can’t believe—”
“Believe it,” he snarls. “It’s real. It’s never going to stop being real. So you might as well start accepting it.”
I nod, biting my lip, shock at his rioting rage shivering through me with the same intensity as his words.
Curiosity moves through me as I study the fire in his eyes, the sharp, strong cut of his jaw.
Why me? I want to scream. What do I have to offer you?
But I sense he’s growing tired of those sorts of questions, and maybe I’m growing tired of asking them, too. Maybe it’s time I tried to accept the impossibility that a man like Forrest Ford could want a naïve girl like me.
I just hope that doesn’t change when he knows the truth.
“So,” he says with a smirk, “what are you thinking for breakfast?”
“I don’t mind,” I murmur.
“We’re in Paris,” he says. “I think it’s only right we order some pastries and coffee. What’d you think?”
I smile at the words.
We’re in Paris.
There’s something I can’t deny, no matter how much uncertainty ricochets through me. The Eiffel Tower is right there, looming, seeming almost close enough to touch.
“After breakfast, how about I take you on the river in my boat?” he says. “That is, of course, if you don’t have any other plans.”
I move my hands over my belly, even if my curvy body is the last thing I want to draw attention to.
And yet, he didn’t seem to mind last night, when he was claiming me with beastly tongue-strokes and possessive fingers.
My womb pulses and sings from deep within.
“I was going to hitch a ride on one of those tour boats,” I murmur. “But traveling in style with you, Forrest? That seems a whole lot better.”
I want to reach across and touch his hand, but something stops me.
Forrest smirks and darts his hand across the table, holding mine firmly, staring deep into my eyes.
“You don’t have to be nervous anymore,” he growls. “We’ve found each other. You never have to be anxious again.”
I smile, and my smile gets wider and wider until I feel like my cheeks are going to burst.
Please, please, don’t let this be a trick.
Chapter Six
Forrest
I handle the wheel casually, guiding us down the Seine as the sunlight sparkles off the water. My woman stands at the railing, her light spring dress fluttering in the caressing breeze, causing the fabric to hug tantalizingly close to her body.
I can’t stop my eyes from flitting from her legs up to her ass, framed gorgeously in that dress, like a personal slice of heaven just for me.
She gazes up as we glide under the Pont des Arts, the Louvre off to our right. She turns to me with light glistening in her eyes, a smile on her face that makes me almost smile in return.
I can’t remember the last time I even nearly smiled, let alone actually did it.
But for her, my woman, maybe I could.
I haven’t even told her that she’s mine yet, that she belongs to me, and it seems like we’ve silently agreed not to discuss how she freaked on me last night.
I’m content to let that sit for now, but as I greedily consume the sweet redness of her cheeks, I know I won’t be able to hold myself back forever.
I know that part of me is going to shatter and crumble and my defenses are going to come falling down.
Even now, the urge to leap across the deck is almost overwhelming.
Her breasts are weighty and round in the dress, begging me to pull down the fabric and make them spill free like they did last night, bouncing for me, her nipples going hard.
“Say it, firecracker,” I smirk.
“What?” she giggles.
“You can’t believe we’re really here …”
She rolls her eyes, a glint of sassiness in her expression.
“I would say it,” she murmurs. “But I know how crazy it makes you.”
“You make me crazy,” I snarl. “Nothing else.”
She bites her lip in that mind-fucking way, the gesture causing a thousand wolves to toss their snouts to the moon and howl, howl because the primal beasts inside of me need to taste her, to feel her, to explode inside of her.
She’s going to make such an incredible mother, passing on the enthusiasm she brings to life in everything she does.
When should I tell her?
What if I scare her away?
“Come here,” I say.
“Why?” she murmurs.
I smirk, captivated by the way the wind dances through her hair, causing waves to shimmer down the length of it, radiant, compelling, mine.
“Because I told you to.”
She walks across the deck, her arms at her sides.
I rush forward and loop my arm around her waist, doing my best not to grab a handful of her luscious hips. The river traffic isn’t as busy as in the summer, but it’s not light, either, and on the stone walkways there are plenty of onlookers.