The Long-Lost Jules by Jane Elizabeth Hughes

Author:Jane Elizabeth Hughes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress
Published: 2021-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

I couldn’t get enough of him. The first time was fast and furious and blazing with need; the second time, longer and gentler and sweeter. When he was inside me, my body felt full and complete. My hands tangled in his black curls, and my lips sought his, over and over and over again. The third time was magical, and at last we fell asleep tangled together, his rough-haired legs entwined with mine and my head on his shoulder.

Just before I drifted off, mindlessly content, I thought, This might be so much more, frighteningly more, than I expected.

Naturally, I was furious with him when we woke up.

“This can’t happen again,” I said. It was supposed to have been just sex—the scratching of an itch. But now it felt dangerous.

“Well, now, that would be a crime. We were perfect together. In fact, we are perfect together.”

I looked at him. My face felt raw from his black-stubbled cheeks, and my body felt replete and languid. I couldn’t help smiling. I felt as if I were smiling all over. I just couldn’t help myself. I drifted over toward him and put my hand on his arm.

“Now, that’s better,” Leo said. He dropped a casual kiss on the top of my head. “Where do you suppose my boxers went to?”

I shrugged. “Probably the same place as my bra.”

“I’m hungry,” he said, hunting under the covers for our missing undergarments. “Can you call down for some breakfast?”

“Seriously? Do you expect room service here? We were lucky to get clean sheets.”

Leo looked put out, and I wondered if this was his first time ever in a hotel without room service. It must be fun being rich, I thought.

Suddenly his phone pinged, and he picked it up, triumphantly flourishing the boxers that he had unearthed from under the chair. Unconcernedly, he dropped the towel that had encircled his lean waist and began pulling on the shorts with one hand, putting the phone to his ear with the other.

“Allô? Léo ici.” He pronounced it the French way—Lay-oh—and I glanced at him curiously. The black hair on his chest tapered into a V below his navel, and I looked away, embarrassed by my interest, as he talked into the phone.

Then his tone sharpened, and he switched into Hebrew. I couldn’t understand a word, of course, but I knew he was angry. With a “Merde, alors!” he threw the phone on the rumpled bed and rapidly collected the rest of his clothes.

No morning sex, then.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He didn’t look at me. “Family business,” he said shortly. “My bloody beau-frère—uh, my brother-in-law—got himself into some bloody stupid mess, and of course I have to go rescue him.”

I picked up my bra from the floor. I was wearing a light camisole and could have just slipped the bra on under the camisole, but instead, I wriggled out of the lacy slip and slowly, slowly began the business of putting on my bra.

But Leo didn’t even look at me. All his attention had gone back to his phone.

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