All for You (Paris Nights #1)(60)

A lone tear trembled over her lashes and snuck toward the mattress. “I would have been incandescent with joy, to wear your cheap fake diamond ring. People would have thought I was running around in sequins, so much happiness would have sparkled off me.”

“Yeah.” His arm tightened. “I know that now.”

She fell quiet. She could have said more—more regrets, more accusations, more ways their lives would have been happier, if only he had taken that step.

She let a slow, soft breath out, linked her fingers with his hand, and lifted it to her lips to kiss it.

“You’ve always sparkled to me, Célie.”

She nestled his hand close to her face as she let herself fall asleep.





Chapter 19


Joss rode with her to work and then gazed at her moped keys in some bemusement when she tossed them to him so he could use it during the day. She grinned. “It suits you.”

“I think I need to get my own means of locomotion. Maybe a real motorcycle.”

“I don’t know. There’s something to be said for having you squooshed up behind me on a moped,” she said saucily.

His left eyebrow rose just a little, and heat washed through her, as she forgot how hilarious the vision of him on a moped was and remembered instead how tightly his hips fit against her butt.

“Didn’t you always want a real motorcycle, Célie?”

She used to imagine herself all tough and sexy on some sleek, aggressive bike, yeah. Of course, that had been during her Goth period, when she was too young to legally drive one, only old enough to ride behind Joss if he ever fulfilled that fantasy of hers. She shrugged. “I’ve never passed my regular motorcycle license. This was what I could afford, when I first moved to Paris. And it suits me.”

Except she still kind of regretted not getting it in pink. Maybe it was time for a new one. With flower decals.


He smiled. “Like your apartment,” he teased. “That’s all bed.”

“It’s a great apartment!” she declared, over her flush. “If you stand on tiptoe on the balcony railing, you can see a tip of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Don’t stand up on tiptoe on the railing unless I’m holding on to your waist.” Joss put his hands on her waist to demonstrate and pulled her in for a kiss. “Ever think about getting a bigger one?”

“Apartments aren’t cheap in Paris, Joss.”

“Plus, you have such a great neighborhood. And only a couple of blocks away from that park.”

She couldn’t quite interpret the satisfaction in his eyes, like he was patting himself on the back. Maybe he was still telling himself he’d done the right thing in leaving, since she’d clearly done so well?

“You really are impossible, you know,” she told him.

“So are you,” Joss said. “Good thing I can do the impossible.” He bent and kissed her, and her entire body lit with delight, to be kissed good-bye by him in the morning. It made the whole day turn into something marvelous, as if she’d been plodding her way through a gray morning, still yawning, and all of a sudden the sun lifted over the horizon in a burst of gold just as a bakery door opened and spilled the scent of fresh bread all over her. This golden, warm magic of his kiss.

He turned her and used both hands on her butt to push her firmly toward the glass doors. “Now go, before you’re late.”

***

Dom was late, for him, meaning Célie and Amand both arrived first. It also meant something else about Dom’s private life, and while Célie preferred not to get a detailed picture, she nevertheless found it adorable. The man was kind of disgustingly happy these days.

So was she.

How she’d managed to get in before Dom considering the way she had spent her morning was a mystery to her.

Too full of herself to behave, she hopped up to sit on one of the marble counters so that she could grin at Dom as he came up the stairs and entered the laboratoire.

Dom stopped, looked at her butt on his counters, looked at her, and put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow.

Célie grinned and stuck her tongue out at him.

Dom sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair. “Why me? I can guarantee Sylvain does not have to put up with this shit.”

“Aww,” Célie cooed. “Are you jealous of Sylvain?”

Dom dropped his hands and glared at her.

She laughed, entirely full of herself.

Dom’s eyes narrowed. “Bordel de … I’m going to sock that salaud right on the nose. What are you, a damn pushover?”

Célie frowned at him. “You know, you didn’t have to put it quite that way.” She brought out the J-word. “And Jaime said no fighting. So you cannot hit Joss.” She was pretty sure that no matter what her own personal J-word claimed about peaceful resolutions, he didn’t have any qualms about violence, at least not where Dom was concerned. She didn’t want to get anyone killed.

Dom sighed heavily, looking at his fist wistfully.

Célie grinned again involuntarily. “Can I tell you something?”

Dom looked wary. “Probably not.”

“You’re such a good guy.”

Dom’s jaw dropped. He took a step back, horrified.

“You made all the difference to me, giving me this safe, happy space, where I could grow big and, and”—she waved her arms wide to try to encompass it—“flourish.”