Love Me Tonight - Four Erotic Romance Stories for Valentine's Day - Boxed Set Read Online Free Page B

the tourists and the glass pyramid behind.

    Colin led her to the rue de Rivoli, to La Maison Angelina, where they drank rich hot chocolate poured from a silver pot.
    “It’s beautiful here,” said Laine through sips of thick, creamy chocolate. It was like nothing she’d ever tasted before. And the room was like nothing she’d ever been in before, with its turn-of-the-century luxurious décor of cream and gold crown moldings, chandeliers, and pastoral murals.
    Colin had also ordered a dish of whipped cream, or Chantilly as the French called it, plus a selection of macarons and they were each taking bites of all of them to sample the many divine flavors.
    “Who’d think to make a licorice one?” said Colin, amused.
    “The pistachio is yummy,” said Laine. “But I think I like the mandarin-passion best.”
    “My favorite is the caramel. Tastes like crème brûlée.”
    Laine was feeling the sugar-rush. She wondered what would happen next. They’d already covered their job situations. Colin was an independent art broker working for and with several collectors. This brought him to Paris, and other parts of Europe, every couple of months. That’s what his meeting had been about. A Parisian collector was ready to part with a few of his pieces, one an early Matisse, and Colin though he might have a buyer in Ireland.
    Between art and traveling, it seemed to Laine they had a lot in common. She had to remind herself this was potentially just meaningless sex and not to get ahead of herself, especially considering the option for sex wasn’t even on the table yet, but she could feel it in the air… Who couldn’t in Paris? The whole city seemed to pulse with Eros.
    She stretched out her foot under the table until her toe found Colin’s ankle. In mid-bite of a macaron , his eyes flashed to hers.
    He finished chewing, and said, “That’s another thing I like about Americans: they know what they want.” He gestured to the waiter for the check. “Do you want to go back to my hotel, Laine?”
    His green eyes challenged her, upping the ante, and making her heart beat faster.
    “We could go to my place. It’s not far from here. I’d like to slip out of these shoes and into something more comfortable.”
    As the check was delivered, he leaned forward and said in a low voice,
    “Or you could slip out of everything else except those shoes. I think I’d like that.”
    “Would you?” She leaned forward, accentuating her cleavage beneath her v-necked blouse. As Colin stared at the reveal, she whispered, “And then what would you like after that?”
    She stood and gathered her coat and purse. She was slightly stunned with her own brazenness, and yet her body buzzed with the excitement of it.
    Colin threw some bills on the table, shaking his head when she reached for her purse. “My treat.”
    “Thank you,” said Laine, ready to head toward the door and whatever might lie ahead.
    “Give me a minute,” said Colin. He glanced down at his lap.
    She smiled. That was a good sign. She took her time slipping into her coat while Colin fussed with his napkin, slowly arranged his scarf, and then leisurely donned his navy peacoat.
    “What are you doing to me, you American Beauty?” said Colin when they stepped out into the brisk air.
    She gave him a sly look. He took her in his arms and they kissed right there under the arcade of the rue Rivoli. His lips were warm, soft, and roving. Once he’d claimed her lips, he kissed his way across her cheek, behind her ear, and down her throat, until her winter clothes barred his path. He had one hand on the back of her head, pressing her face to his, and his other hand on the small of her back, guiding her hips to his.
    “How far is your flat?” he said in a husky voice.
    “This way.” She pulled him down the street, still embracing, clinging, kissing.
    People passed by, curious, appreciative of their expressed passion. Laine felt she was the subject of a Parisian postcard. Only a few