The Soulmates Collection Read online

  Grabbing my hips tighter, he moves me lower. “I want inside of you.” One of his hands leaves my skin and I slide down. I see him pumping, then holding himself up for me.

  I rise up just enough until the tip of his cock is touching me, my body already aching for him to fill me. Lowering my palms to his chest, I lower my body. My heart races as I take him in slowly until I’m fully seated. “Hey,” his voice drawing my attention. “You feel incroyable.”

  I love how he starts in English and ends in French. Smiling, I rise back up, feeling my own confidence. Every time I move down, the fullness makes my entire soul feel complete. Emotions running rampant should scare me, but I let go of the worries and enjoy instead.

  Olivier sits up and I angle my legs around, moving against him. We kiss and kiss and make love and fuck. Our room is filled with moans of pleasure, groans of beautiful sexual pain, and slick bodies coming together. I feel the sweat in his hair against my temple and treasure it. I brought this man to his knees and he’s now bringing me to mine. The tightening begins deep from where our bodies are linked, spreading as an inner explosion drowns the color from the back of my eyelids, brightening my world.

  His movements become erratic. I love his drive as he uses my body to chase his own release. Then he holds me tightly, stilling me as he moves beneath, his hot breath coming out in curses and ‘Sunshine’ being uttered. Two kisses are given just behind my ear, then he sighs. His arms are around me and with my eyes closed, I can imagine staying like this forever.

  Chapter 6

  Round two is the ‘fucking’ he promised. Hard. Fast. Uncompromising. Unrelenting. I came twice. Sex has never been that rough or that fulfilling before and I loved every second of it.

  Two hours after having sex with Olivier, I’m still wide awake. He fell asleep more than an hour ago. My head rests in the nook of his arm and his steady heartbeat hasn’t lulled me to sleep yet. I’m too happy, too sated, feeling too much of everything to shut down my rapidly growing feelings for him.

  I’ve never had casual sex before and there is something so liberating about it. In it to win it, looking out for number one, and all those clichés have run around my head and long since left. The reality is that I have a bad pattern of falling in love with people I have sex with. The making love is actually true for me. Olivier and I made love tonight and that will be hard to let go of in a few days, no matter how much I try to convince myself it was only one time.

  Nope, not even knowing I’ll be leaving him in 3 days has fazed my heart. It’s my most stubborn organ by far and refuses to acknowledge the facts. Instead, my heart focuses on the man next to me and how he felt when he was inside of me, how peaceful he looks while sleeping, and how cute his hair looks hanging over one eye.

  My brain won’t shut down and rest despite reminding myself that when I leave Paris, I’ll be leaving Olivier behind as well. It doesn’t seem to matter how intelligent I am or how logical I believe myself to be. The bottom line is that this is a onetime thing. That’s it. We didn’t make any promises or commitments to each other, but the unwritten rule of no strings attached was definitely in play tonight. Closing my eyes, I try to shut off the noise that’s keeping me awake and focus on how I felt just two hours ago after having my first real orgasm.

  Snuggling closer, I take a deep breath, giving into the exhaustion that is taking over.

  * * *

  When I open my eyes, Olivier is sitting in the chair across from me with a coffee in his hand, staring at me. “Bonjour. Prendrais-tu un café?”

  “Oui,” I reply.

  He gets up taking the other coffee I hadn’t noticed from the nightstand and hands it to me before sitting back down in the chair. His gaze leaves me and drops to the ground as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. My stomach turns from the negative vibe of his body language, so I brace myself before he even has a chance to speak.

  Running his free hand through his hair, he stands suddenly and says, “I have to work today. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.” There’s no sincerity in his tone, his French even slacking off as he glances toward his only escape—the door.

  “Okay.” I reply and quickly take a sip to end the morning after awkwardness that is leading to regrets.

  I redirect my eyes to the underneath of the top bunk as he says his goodbye, “Au revoir, Rayon de Soleil.”

  “Yeah, au revoir.” The door closes and the expected tears don’t come. A numbness to it all rushes through my veins instead. Trying to hold back my disappointment, I sit up and set the coffee down before standing. Maybe I should see if they have other rooms available.

  The door swings open and Olivier stands there out of breath, which momentarily takes my breath away. “Did you run back up here?” I ask, hoping the answer is yes.

  “Yes.” He closes the distance in three steps. Staring into my eyes, he cups my face and says, “Last night… last night was amazing.” Then he’s kissing me with a fiery passion, his hands groping as his body presses against mine in ways that stirs up the frenzy from last night all over again.

  Backing up abruptly, he has a huge grin on his face. “I’ll see you later.”

  With my own goofy grin in place, I laugh. “Yes, later for sure.”

  He turns and runs out again. Standing at the door, I watch as he takes to the stairs, leaping to touch the ceiling and hollering excitedly right before he descends. Shutting the door, I lean against the back of it, smiling without reservation and stupidly happy. I slide down the door until I land on the floor. All of a sudden, the world seems to offer unparalleled opportunities. Too giddy to wait any longer to conquer Paris, I jump up and get ready for the day, the grin never leaving my face.

  * * *

  I stroll up the Avenue des Champs-Élysées with Icona Pop playing in my ear buds. The Arc de Triomphe is straight ahead. The trees are blowing in the breeze. The sky is cloudless and blue reminding me of Olivier’s eyes. I pick up the pace to match the beat of the music until I find the pedestrian tunnel. When I arrive ready to climb up, I mentally prepare myself for the two hundred and eighty steps.

  At the top, I see huge monuments sprinkled around the city. In one direction is tomorrow’s scheduled adventure—the Sacre-Coeur. Back down Champs-Élysées, Place de la Concorde. The city is breathtaking and more than I could have hoped for in other ways.

  When I leave, I head for the Notre-Dame Cathedral. I pass a small bistro along the way that looks busy enough to think it’s good and not so busy I can’t get a table. I order white wine wanting to blend in and adopt the locals’ perspective and slow down to enjoy life. Notre-Dame has been open for almost seven hundred years. I think it’ll be fine if it takes an extra hour to get there so I can appreciate the day.

  A very attractive older man in a very expensive looking suit sitting nearby sends a small smile in my direction along with another glass of wine. The waiter informs me of the gesture. Not sure what to do other than kindly accept, I raise the glass to him. He stands and walks to me. While he speaks, he offers small hand gestures that don’t clue me into what he’s saying at all. I only catch, “J’ampelle Jacques.”

  “Non parlez vous Francais.”

  “Ahh, you’re Américain.”

  “Yes.”

  “May I join you?”

  I look at the empty seat next to me suddenly feeling like I’d be betraying Olivier. Let’s face it, this guy isn’t here for casual chitchat. I set the glass on the table along with some money to cover my check and say, “I have to leave actually. There’s a cathedral waiting. Merci and excuse moi.”

  He nods kindly as I pass. “Too bad. Maybe our paths will cross again one day.”

  Looking back over my shoulder, I smile. “Maybe.”

  I feel lighter, my feet rested, and I’m ready to walk again. It doesn’t take as long as I thought it would to get to Notre-Dame. I go inside after lining up, but don’t stay long. It’s beautiful and historical but I’m missing Olivier. I wish I knew where he was working.
I’d surprise him. But since I don’t, I start back for the hostel, not sure how long it will take me to walk. I stop and pull out my map. When I discover it’s too far to walk without developing blisters, I decide to take the subway. I’m used to the New York subway system, so this should be a breeze.

  I’m wrong. I get off at the wrong stop but am too intimidated and frustrated to go back, so I walk the rest of the way. I make it back to the hostel just before dark. Unfortunately, I’m greeted by Stefan. This time with no woman in sight, so that’s a relief. I’m kind of over the tongue show already.

  “Bonjour, Kandeeeeessse.” My name slurs from his lips.

  I walk steady. “Bonjour.”

  He runs to the door, cutting me off. “Let me get the door for you.”

  Standing there, looking at me, I give a tight smile. “Merci.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. No hurry for you.”

  “Pardon me, Stefan. I need to go.” I step forward.

  His arms go wide, blocking my way. “Play with me.”

  My head jerks back. “What?”

  “You know, how do you Américains say, play with me.” His hand is circling in front of his crotch.

  I’m so offended I’m not sure what to say.

  Olivier does though. “Éloigne-toi d’elle.” His deep voice resonates around the room, penetrating my chest and I jump.

  So does Stefan, but I’m not sure if it’s from whatever Olivier just said to him or from the interruption. “Détendez-vous, l'homme. Je suis juste en tenant la porte ouverte pour elle.”

  I look between the two, caught in the middle until Olivier is at my side. Stefan opens the door wide with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Con casse-toi,” Olivier mutters under his breath as we pass.

  Stefan laughs, then says, “Ta Gueule, Américain.”

  The pressure of Olivier’s hand on my lower back keeps me moving forward until we reach the stairs. He steps around me, takes my hand, then books it up the steps. I’m quick to follow but tire after the second flight. I stop, yanking him to a halt. “Slow down.”

  He nods. I can see the stress of the situation written in the lines of his face, lines that shouldn’t be there at such a young age. He leans against the wall and I take a final step up and lean against him. “I missed you today. Is it too soon to say that?”

  A perfect smile appears and he takes me by the waist, bringing me in for a kiss. “Non. Not too soon. I missed you, Sunshine.”

  I smile and kiss him again. This time more on the R rated side, hoping to move to an X-rating soon. “Hungry?” I ask.

  “Hungry for you.”

  Laughing, I say, “I meant for food. I haven’t eaten much and I’m starved.”

  “After.” He starts up the steps again, taking me up with him.

  “After?”

  “After sex. I really missed you today.” His cocky smile wins me over and I pass him on the last flight.

  Running after me, he practically tackles me on the last few steps. I fall back, turning just in time to land on my ass on the hard wood. Olivier drops his arms on either side of me, his lips just a few inches away. I push up and he comes down and we kiss in the middle. As I wrap my arms around his neck, he lowers us back just as our tongues meet again. His pelvis presses between my legs and I respond with a moan. “Morrrreee.”

  I squeal when he scoops me up and hurries down the hall toward our room.

  He stops just outside the door and says, “Pocket. Keys.”

  I go fishing in his pocket, then the other and pull out the key. Holding it in the air, I celebrate. “Success!”

  “Success. Open the door.”

  Unlocking the door, I turn the knob, then Olivier kicks it until it slams against the wall. He moves us to the bed, drops me down on the mattress before rushing back to close the door and lock it.

  Reaching over, I turn on the lamp as he stops to lean against the wall. “This is crazy, right?”

  “Totally.”

  “But you’re into it?”

  Getting up, I go to him and lean against the wall right in front of him. “I’m into you.”

  “I’m into you too.”

  This time I take his hand and lead him to the bed, taking charge. “Now get naked and make love to me.”

  “With much pleasure.”

  Chapter 7

  “Do you work today?”

  Olivier brings me even closer, his body wrapped around the back of mine. His chin rests on my shoulder and he whispers, “Yes, most of the day. I’ll be stuck behind the bar. What are you doing today?”

  Still tired, jet lag has finally set in. I guess I’ve been living off adrenaline and giddiness. My limbs feel heavy, my eyelids even heavier. I don’t bother opening them, not worried about the time or schedule or anything else. Everything feels too good right now to ruin it with reality, time, or morning afters. “If I leave bed today, I want to go to the Sacre-Coeur and maybe hit the flea market.”

  “Every tour guide tells you those are must-sees.” He laughs. “I will take you somewhere tonight. Somewhere the guidebooks don’t send you.”

  That opens my eyes. Turning in his arms, I ask, “Really?”

  He pushes some strands of my messy hair out of my eyes. The act so kind and caring, a lot like the way he’s looking at me now. He says, “Oui.”

  Just as I begin to smile, he kisses me, making me forget all about heavy limbs and exhaustion. Our bodies begin to move, the closeness encouraging urges and longings that feel unsatisfied. Within minutes he’s filling me—body and soul. His hand slips between us and his fingers find that spot that confirms my body belongs to Olivier DuMarche and I don’t seem to have a say in the matter. He knows just how to make me beg for more and love harder. My ecstasy drives his and he comes with me.

  * * *

  Olivier leaves me with a warning of staying away from Stefan and a reminder that he’ll meet me on the steps of the Sacre-Coeur at six this evening. I go back to sleep, needing it.

  I wake up around one in the afternoon. Feeling lethargic, it takes me an hour to bathe and style my hair. Feeling fresher and ready for my date… I mean day, I dress with care and put on makeup. Feeling pretty in Paris is so not underrated. This vacation is the best ever. But I only have two days left, so I need to make the most of them.

  Stefan is not around when I leave, though he doesn’t scare me as much as he probably should. I can take care of myself when needed. My build may be slight, but I’m strong. All of those P.E. credits have paid off. But I’m still glad I don’t see him. His lecherous ways are gross to witness when I’m just passing through the lobby.

  With my museum pass in hand, I try the subway again. I find the right station to exit and end up exactly where I wanted to be. Two hours is spent at the Pompidou enjoying everything from an oversized pencil to literature. Immersing myself in this museum as much as possible has been fun, but I don’t relate to the art as much. I think I’m more the classical kind of gal. It’s always good to expand the horizons though.

  Knowing I have to go from the 4th arrondissemont to the 18th to meet Olivier means I need to get moving.

  I arrive at the Sacre-Coeur just before six, finding a place halfway up the stairs to sit and wait. Pulling my purse from my shoulder I set it on my lap and look out over the city. This is the highest point in Paris and my heart begins to race at the reality that I’m here, in this place that I’ve dreamed about for what feels like my entire life. I hope my feet never touch the ground. I love living a dream.

  It feels cooler today, so I tighten my coat at the waist and lean back. Glancing at my watch often, I see the minutes ticking by too slowly. I’m anxious and want to see Olivier again. The top of the hour comes and goes and the next time I look at my watch it’s fifteen after… thirty after… forty-five minutes after…

  At seven, I sigh, then stand up and stretch while scanning the staircase and then the other one across the grass. I don’t see anyone who even remotely looks like Olivier. I’m sure he j
ust got hung up at work, though I’m starting to feel abandoned. I change spots, moving lower, closer to the main sidewalk at the base of the hill and wait.

  By eight, I get up, pull my purse over my head, adjusting it across my body before walking down the steps and heading toward the street of shops ahead. Disappointment fills my chest. Tears well, but don’t fall. I search the street as I walk hoping to see him, hear my name being called, or find the answer that will explain why I was just stood up. None of those happen and I’m left to return to the hostel alone.

  Trying to hold my head up, the hurt I’m feeling sits squarely on my shoulders and I struggle to move past the negative thoughts that fill my head. Instead of going back to that depressing room, I stop into a restaurant, getting a table inside for one. I’m placed in the back corner and given a view of a bistro full of couples—young and old—in love. The French are definitely not shy about showing their affection in public. Is everyone in this city in love?

  I drop the cloth napkin to my lap, annoyed. When the waiter comes to my table, I order a Nicoise salad and a glass of wine. The wine is delivered promptly. It must be obvious that I need a drink. There is no small talk with the waiter. He’s just as anxious to move to the next table as I am to forget about how I wasted my time today.

  Up ahead, an attractive man sitting alone at the bar catches my eye just as I catch his. He smiles. But I look down, not wanting the attention tonight. Maybe everything went wrong in Paris when I started being more concerned about Olivier than the reason I came here in the first place. I never expected to meet someone. But with the romantic movies of the past and the legends of how romantic this city is, I might have been gullible to the first charming guy with an accent. I’m a fool.

  My salad is delivered with no words and I’m left alone to eat. I don’t hurry, but I kind of want to. I should enjoy these moments, pretend I never met Olivier, like he never stood me up, like I never started to fall for him. Like the redhead from the other night, I now understand her anger and her pain. It makes me wonder if he stood her up as well.