A Moment on the Lips(48)

‘You’re going to have to work for the view again, I’m afraid,’ she said with a grin.

There were literally hundreds of narrow spiral stairs; but at last they were at the top and could look down at the traffic, each lane a blaze of white or red from the car lights. Carenza pointed out the buildings illuminated across the city: the Sacré Coeur in the distance on the hill at Montmartre, and the Eiffel Tower lit up and with a huge beam sweeping across the night from the top of the tower.

‘I told you Paris by night was something else,’ she said softly.

‘You’re right. It is.’ And sharing this with her felt special. There were plenty of other people on top of the arch, but it still managed to feel intimate, as if they were the only two people there.

‘Come and look out over here.’ She glanced at her watch again, and shivered.

‘It’s chilly up here. I don’t want you to catch cold.’ He noticed that she was only wearing a thin wrap over her dress. Nowhere near enough to keep her warm. ‘We’d better go down.’

‘No way. We have to stay until the hour.’

‘Why?’

‘We just do. Stop asking questions, Dante. You’ll spoil the surprise.’

Another surprise? Well, he wasn’t going to spoil her fun. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped it round her shoulders.

‘Dante, you’ll get cold,’ she protested.

‘I’m fine.’ He was warm from just being with her.

She glanced at her watch again. ‘Any second now …’

Then the Eiffel Tower started to sparkle, lights flashing on and off all over the structure. Dante watched in awe. ‘That’s stunning,’ he said. ‘It’s like a giant sparkler.’ Like the one she’d talked the pastry chef into putting on the cone of macarons.

‘It’s a pity your birthday isn’t July the fourteenth, or we’d be seeing fireworks as well.’

He smiled. She made him see those anyway.

They watched until the lights had stopped twinkling, then headed back to their hotel. In their room, she undressed him slowly; he enjoyed unzipping her dress and taking it off her, seeing the sharp contrast between her soft white skin and her black lacy underwear. And he enjoyed even more taking the pins out of her hair and letting it cascade over her shoulders.

Once they were both naked, Carenza went to the mini bar and retrieved a tiny bottle of champagne.

He frowned. ‘What’s that for?’

‘Not to drink.’ She gave him a wicked grin. ‘It’s your birthday.’

He really wasn’t following her. Just what did she have in mind?

‘Lie down and close your eyes—and trust me,’ she added softly.

Trust.

He didn’t let himself trust anyone.

But she’d gone to an awful lot of trouble to make today memorable for him. She’d changed his diary, she’d booked the flight and the hotel and the restaurant, and she’d organised that cake. Refusing her now would be churlish. In silence, he lay down and closed his eyes.

She opened the champagne, and the pop of the cork made him open his eyes again.

She eyed the bateau lit. ‘Even if I had a silk scarf with me, I couldn’t tie you to that.’ She gave him a speculative look. ‘Though I suppose I could blindfold you …’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘You don’t need any props, Princess.’ Carenza alone was all he needed.

Needed?

No. He didn’t need anyone. Wanted, he corrected himself mentally.

‘Then close your eyes, Dante.’ She kissed him lightly.

‘I promised you pleasure. Oh, and if you could hold onto that headboard, that’d be a help.’

He could resist.

Or he could give in.

When she began to kiss her way down his body, he made the choice, and closed his eyes. He held onto the headboard. As she worked her way down his abdomen it grew more and more difficult to breathe. And when she took him into her mouth, he thought he might just’ve died and gone to heaven.

‘Carenza,’ he said hoarsely.

She stopped. ‘Don’t look until I say you can.’

He knew what she was going to do, now. Roll the condom over him, straddle him, and lower herself onto him. And then she’d let him look and enjoy the view.

And then he felt her hair, silky-soft, brush against him. Her fingers curving round his shaft. And then …