Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” he answers.
His smooth, velvety voice slips down my spine and my face heats at the thought of the things I want to do to the man.
“Same,” I reply. He’s all I can think of. I need to find a way to tell him I want him. And I trust him. I trust us.
“That’s nice to hear,” he says. “I was going to call you. Wish you good luck for tomorrow and tell you some news.”
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts and I head over to unlock it. “Hang on,” I say. “There’s someone at my door. Let me just see what they want.”
I fiddle with the unfamiliar brass knobs and locks, trying the door several times before I manage to yank it open.
A mixture of joy and relief spills over me as Zach stands before me.
“You’re here,” I say, not really believing what’s right in front of me. My life is too good to be true right now.
“Wanted to wish you luck.”
I want to throw myself at him and jump into his arms. But we need to talk. I open the door wide and he passes me, that now-familiar frisson of electricity sparking between us.
It’s so good to have him here. The flat instantly feels more like home.
“That’s nice. And you came all this way.”
He’s grinning when he turns to face me. “Of course I did. Nice place,” he says.
“It’s small.” But big enough for two, I don’t say.
“Great view.” He’s looking right at me when he says this.
“I wanted to…tell you something.” I don’t know how to say, I think I made a monumental fuckup by ending things between us and I’ve changed my mind.
“Talk to me,” he says. He takes a seat on the bright red sofa and pats the cushion next to him.
“I’ve realized a few things,” I say.
“Like how much you miss me?”
I move to the sofa but I hover, unready to sit down just yet. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”
He nods, a small smile on his lips, as if he was expecting me to say this.
“Have you changed your mind? About being together?”
Is he actually in my head? Or maybe my body language is giving me away. Or maybe he was expecting me to be lonely in Paris and reach for something familiar. But that’s not it. It’s not company I want: it’s him.
“Yes,” I say in a half whisper.
He reaches for my hand and pulls me down on the sofa next to him, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He threads his fingers between mine and sweeps his thumb over my palm.
“And not because I don’t know anyone in Paris and I’m lonely.”
“So why now?” he asks.
“Because of the man you are. And the woman you make me.”
He pulls me onto his lap and cups my face in his hands. The electricity sparks and crackles until it just becomes white noise—it’s just who we are together. “I think this is long overdue, don’t you?”
As if being held back on a lead, my pulse throbs under my skin in anticipation. I nod and he sweeps his lips over mine, so gently that I can barely feel him.
I groan. I need more. I need all of him.
I sink into him, giving myself up to his lips, his tongue, the press of his fingers. I should have known from that first kiss that there was no going back. I hadn’t figured it out then; I have now. What I have with Zach is rare. And it’s not to be given up because I’m afraid. Or because I don’t feel worthy. It’s to be cherished and nurtured and brought out of the fog and into the sun and worshipped.
He trails soft kisses down my neck and I whisper, “I love you.”
He stops and pulls back. “I love you, Ellie.”
“I want to do the long-distance thing,” I say, just to make sure he knows I’m all in. “London to Paris isn’t such a big deal, and it’s only a year.”
He smooths my hair around my ear. “We don’t need to.”
My heart starts to bang against my chest. He can’t have meant this to be a goodbye. Not after that kiss? He’s come to Paris, after all. “I want to,” I say. “Really, it will be fine. We can alternate weekends in London and Paris.”
“I don’t think so,” he says. My stomach twists into knot after knot after knot.
I clamp my hands to his shoulders. “Zach, I’m—”
He must see the panic in my eyes. “Ellie, it’s fine,” he says. “I’m moving to Paris.”
“What?” I say. My heart seems to stop beating and I forget how to breathe. What did he just say? “But your job. The book.”
“We’re only here for a year. My book won’t even be published by then, and I refuse to give up being with you just to work in a job I don’t enjoy.”