One Cruel Night

“Well, what do you despise about your parents?”

“Twenty questions?” he asked right back.

I chewed on my lip and shrugged slightly. “Just trying to get to know you.”

“Usually, people start with favorite color and what they want to be when they grow up.”

“You make me want to cut right through the small talk,” I admitted baldly.

“I know what you mean.”

“So…very important question: what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I feel at a divide in that question.”

I laughed. “I thought you said this was an easy question.”

“I didn’t say that. I said that’s what people start with.” He brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from my cheek. “My parents want me to work for the family business. But I think I want to be a professor.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I’m working toward the degree. I shouldn’t have to think that’s what I want.”

“A professor in what?”

“Philosophy.”

My mouth popped open in surprise. “You are an enigma, aren’t you?”

“That is one way to describe getting a rather useless degree.”

“It’s not useless if that’s what you love,” I said with more vehemence than I’d intended.

“Tell that to my parents.”

“I know exactly what it’s like for others to think that your dreams should stay put,” I admitted. “My parents think that an English degree, a career in writing, is pointless. I’m smart. I could become a lawyer or a doctor or something practical in business. If only there were a way to tell them that none of that matters to me.”

But it was nearly impossible to do so. They believed it was worse than impractical, a waste of money. My parents wanted me to rise above the poverty line. An English degree might as well be a kiss of death.

“Tell me about it,” he said, taking another long sip from the bottle of wine. “That secret I told you? This is the main reason. They don’t accept me for who I am and then wonder why I’m always trying to escape.”

I could feel this mutual truth radiating between us. In some way, we were both adrift. A leaf blowing in the wind on no set course, just being pushed around. And I wanted more than that. Even if no one else understood my obsession.

“I get it,” I finally whispered, sitting up and dangling my feet.

Penn set the wine bottle aside and laced our fingers together. Something passed between us then. A current. A mutual understanding. The start of something new. It was inexplicable and incredible.

My body buzzed with excitement, taking in a truth I hadn’t let myself see before. I always blamed the fact that I never really dated on my history. Growing up in a different city every year had put a strain on all my relationships. But the truth of it was, I’d never met anyone who really saw me.

Penn’s hand moved to my cheek. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, causing goose bumps to erupt on my skin. Our eyes locked in the short distance. The nearly empty bottle of wine made my brain fuzzy and my body warm and inviting. I stayed perfectly still, taking in this moment. I wanted to write it to memory. Just wanted to relive the electricity vibrating between us. The tension was palpable.

Gasps rang out all around us, but still, we didn’t break eye contact. In my periphery vision, I could see the Eiffel Tower lights had begun to twinkle. It was a sight to see for sure. My favorite sight in all of Paris. Until this moment.

As the lights shone in Penn’s sapphire gaze, he leaned into me. He slipped his free hand around my waist, tugging me just a bit closer to him. His other hand guided my mouth to his. Then, everything else in the universe disappeared.

His lips were soft and honey sweet. Not exactly tentative at first, but the opening of a dance. He was bowing, waiting for my curtsy and acceptance for the dance to begin…to allow us to reach a crescendo. As soon as I reciprocated the kiss, pushing my hands up into his dark hair and tugging on the short strands, all reticence dissolved.

I opened my mouth to him, and the kiss turned frenzied. As if both of us had been thinking of nothing but getting to this moment. I finally saw my equal, the person who spoke to my soul.

Chapter 4

“Our night isn’t over yet,” Penn said against my swollen lips.

For a split second, I considered that perhaps our night was over. What it would be like to be that bold. To channel my inner Amy and tell him that we should just leave and go back to my place. I could do it. My lower half was throbbing from one kiss. One incredible kiss that had made every one before it pale in comparison.