She came from New York, but it seemed to Karen that Paris was the coldest city on the planet. At least whenever she’d been here, which was only twice. She pulled her coat collar up around her neck against a wind that continued to insinuate itself through all the layers of her clothing. On a dull day, the city turned a uniform shade of gray, though it was never for a moment anything less than breathtaking.
Would it be the same if I lived here, she wondered, or would a winter’s day simply make me long for spring, with its sunshine and blossoms?
The Centre Pompidou loomed up ahead of her like a giant birdcage emerging from the mist. It was larger than she remembered but essentially the same—a giant grid of steel girders and pipes with a glass tube of escalators snaking up the side. She remembered riding up those escalators seven years ago, leaning back against Elliot’s chest as he stood on the step behind her. The view should have been stunning by the time they reached the sixth floor, only it had been foggy that day as well. But they weren’t there for the view—they were there for the art. And for each other—on one of the broad galleries, looking out toward the mist-shrouded spires of Notre Dame, Elliot had kissed her for the first time.
She could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers, taste the salt on them from the croque monsieur he’d had for lunch. Seven years had passed and she could still remember what they’d eaten for lunch that day. She couldn’t, however, recall whose idea it had been to come back here, seven years on, when they would both be thirty.
“Whatever happens, Karen,” Elliot had said. “Whether we’re still together or single or with other people, we should still come back here. Just to remember this day. Just to see how the other’s doing.”
“But we’ll know that, if we’re still together,” she’d said, convinced, as one always is at the beginning, that the thing’s going to last forever.
It hadn’t lasted forever. Two years was all they’d managed before his job and her family had torn them apart. It had ended grumpily and for two years after that Karen had believed she never wanted to lay eyes on him again. But time thaws even the coldest cut and now she wondered if he would remember their promise that day. She didn’t expect him to be here—even if he did remember, he wasn’t going to fly thousands of miles on a first-love whim. She was only here because her job involved European travel and it had been easy to jiggle her schedule to accommodate this particular date. To be in Paris on the day she was supposed to be.
So did that mean she secretly hoped he would come?
Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the top of the fifth escalator. Every man ahead of her or behind her on the way up received a second glance. Just in case he was Elliot. She wondered how much he would have changed in seven years. Would he be easy to spot, instantly recognizable? She looked the same. She hadn’t changed her hair and if there were some tiny crow’s feet appearing at the corners of her eyes, they weren’t visible from a distance.
She walked out into the wide gallery, almost scared to run her eyes along the length of the windows until they rested at the very spot where she and Elliot had exchanged that first kiss. There was no one there. A harassed-looking woman with two young children battled her buggy onto the down escalator. An elderly couple were whispering together over coffee at one of the tables. She didn’t remember there being a café here before, but it made sense to make the most of the view.
Karen checked her watch. She was ten minutes early, so why not have a coffee and stare out for a while into the gray mists? All the while, she kept checking the top of the escalator and the line at the counter. Just in case Elliot appeared after all. The coffee scalded her tongue, but she was too nervous to take her time with it. She finished the drink quickly and then paced slowly up and down along the window for a few more agonizing minutes. When she next looked at her wrist, it was a quarter after the hour. He wasn’t coming and she’d never really believed that he would.
But still she scanned the faces of the men coming up the escalators toward her as she snaked down. Between the fourth floor and third floor, a man passed her who made her look again. It wasn’t Elliot but there was something in his face she knew.
“Karen?”
She had already turned to look back up when he spoke to her. A tall man with an abundance of dark hair was running down the up escalator toward her, so she started walking up toward him. When they were level with each other, she knew that she knew him.
“Go down,” he said. “I’ll meet you on floor three.”
She stopped walking up and let the escalator carry her down, while he ran the rest of the way up his side and then back down the other to catch her.
“You probably don’t remember me,” he said, somewhat out of breath as he came up to her in the empty gallery on the third floor.
“I don’t remember your name but I knew you, didn’t I, when I was seeing Elliot?”
He nodded.
“I’m Tom.”
He stuck out a hand to shake at the same moment that Karen stepped forward to greet him with a kiss. A second’s awkwardness ensued and they both laughed.
“It’s weird that you’re here,” said Karen.
“You were expecting Elliot.”
“You know? Elliot told you?” For some reason Karen’s heart was pounding again. Elliot hadn’t forgotten. “Is he here? Is he coming?”
But a fleeting expression on Tom’s face told her he wasn’t.
“Let’s sit down,” said Tom.
“Have you seen Elliot?” said Karen, letting Tom lead her to a clear acrylic bench.
Tom shook his head.
“I haven’t seen Elliot for ages. He told me about your promise as soon as you got back from Paris. But, no, he won’t be coming. He’s got four kids under three or three kids under four…”
Karen had to laugh. She couldn’t see smooth, sleek Elliot as a dad.
“You’re joking?”
Tom shook his head. “It’s very painful for him.”
“So you’re here as his proxy?”
Tom’s expression became serious.
“I’m here, one hundred percent, on my own account.”
Karen stared at him. She’d always thought Tom was good looking and all of a sudden it hit her that he was far more handsome than Elliot had ever been.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” she said, slowly drawing out the words.
“When Elliot told me about this arrangement you’d made I was intrigued. For some reason the date stuck in my mind. I always wondered if you’d both come.”
“And you thought you’d come along as third wheel?”
He picked up Karen’s hand in one of his and she started slightly, caught unaware by the gesture.
“I always imagined coming to meet you here instead of him.”
Karen took a moment to fully understand what he was saying.
“So does Elliot know you’re here?”
“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, Karen, but I think Elliot forgot all about it within a couple of months. I mean, you broke up years ago.”
Karen looked down at the strong, tanned hand that was still holding hers. Sculpted fingers that were warm to the touch. And dry. She couldn’t bear a man with clammy hands. Then she looked up at Tom’s face—chestnut eyes, nose a little large but a beautiful mouth with dark lips, a clean strong jawline. Her gaze snapped back to his eyes, which were locked on hers. Deep pools of caramel warmth.
She cleared her throat.
“Are you with someone?” She knew how the question sounded, what it might imply, but she had to ask it before she sank any deeper into those eyes.
“No.” His voice sounded shaky compared with before.
“And you came here, just on the off chance I might have remembered?”
He dragged his eyes away from hers, just for a second.
“Hell, this is embarrassing,” he said. “Yup, three and a half thousand miles just on the off chance.”
His discomfort brought a smile of sympathy to her face, but he let go of her hand.
“God, you must think I’m a lunatic.”
“I’m charmed.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Over the course of this exchange her fingers had wound around his. She found she liked touching his hand. It felt comforting.
“What happens now?” he said.
“Are you staying nearby?” she asked.
PARIS IS FOR LOVERS. That was the T-shirt slogan that leapt out at Karen from a hundred souvenir shop windows. And as she and Tom walked arm-in-arm through the streets back to his hotel, anyone might be forgiven for assuming they already were.
They didn’t say much to each other. There would be plenty of time to catch up later. But now was all about the chemistry. Tom pulled her hand into his coat pocket and in an instant the gray sky and damp mist that clung to her hair in droplets didn’t matter. In that moment Paris had all the charm of a spring day, making Karen smile at herself in a shop window reflection.
Tom’s hotel wasn’t far away. He was staying in a small boutique hotel on the Rue de Rivoli. Karen didn’t notice the hotel name as they went inside. She felt as if she’d drunk a large glass of wine, far too quickly, although the only thing she’d had all day was coffee. Giddy was the word for it. Giddy and excited— and just a tiny bit scared as they went up in the elevator. Not scared of Tom. Just scared of her own potential to fuck this up. Scared she’d misinterpreted what was happening here.
Tom opened the door to his room with a key card, ushering her inside with a shy smile.
“Let me take your coat,” he said.
He hung it in the wardrobe and then went to the minibar.
“I think I need a drink,” he said. “You?”
Karen nodded. “Please. A glass of wine.”
They stood looking out of the window as they sipped wine from bathroom tumblers. Tom turned to face her and took the glass from her hand.
“Karen…” He put the two glasses down on a low table. “Is this…? Are you…?” He cleared his throat nervously. “If this is too fast for you…”
She knew what he was trying to say and she shook her head.
“It’s not too fast, Tom. It’s been seven years in the making.”
With that she’d granted him permission, and he didn’t waste any time. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close against his chest, gazing down at her as if he was seeing her for the first time in seven years.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, but she couldn’t answer as his face bent lower and his lips brushed hers. Desire started to uncoil low in her belly. She was very conscious of the warmth of his hands on her back, the taste of wine on his breath. With a murmur, she kissed him back, entwining her hands at the back of his neck. His lips moved slowly against hers, tugging gently as he explored the shape of her mouth.
Karen’s hips pressed forward against him and her back softened as she melted into the kiss. This was so absolutely not what she’d been expecting but now that it was happening, there seemed a certain inevitability about it. She pushed her tongue out for a taste of his and his mouth opened. His tongue snaked against hers and her insides tightened. The kiss intensified as he explored her insistently, claiming her lips, her teeth, her tongue as his prize. She wanted to drink him in. Each new breath tasted of him, intoxicating her far more than the scant mouthful of wine she’d drunk.
Tom groaned and staggered slightly as he broke off the kiss. Karen gasped.
“Oh god, Karen,” he said. There was a break in his voice.
He dropped to his knees in front of her and as she steadied herself with one hand on the back of a chair, he placed his hands on her hips. He paused to look up at her and she nodded. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to feel Tom’s long, strong fingers undoing the button at the top of her jeans. He drew the zipper down slowly. Karen wasn’t sure her legs would hold her upright for much longer and, as if he’d read her mind, he maneuvered her back until she could sit down on the bed.
He unzipped her ankle boots with the same slow deliberation and tugged them off, rolling down each sock as soon as he’d put the boot aside. Karen leaned back on her elbows on the dark-red coverlet. Her breathing was ragged as he brought his hands back to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers were shaking. Karen closed her eyes as he peeled away the tight denim. Her panties came off at the same time and she raised her hips to make it easier for him. The shock of cool air on her skin sent a shiver up her spine. Then Tom’s warm palms flat against the outer surfaces of her legs sent another shiver running through her, this time of a totally different kind.
His hands slid around to the inside of her thighs and he gently parted her legs.
“Damn it, you’re beautiful,” he said and she felt the whisper of his breath in the vortex between her legs. Of course, she was already wet. She had been before they’d even reached the hotel and their long lingering kiss had done nothing to stem the tide. He ran one finger along the cleft between her lips and then drew it back down with increased pressure to open them up. Then he pushed a finger high up into her. The shock of pleasure was like an electric current, making her yelp. He quickly withdrew and she felt instantly bereft.
“Are you okay…?”
“Don’t stop—it was good.”
She opened her eyes to see his reassured smile and then he kissed the softest skin in the crease at the top of her leg. But he didn’t replace the finger he’d taken out. Instead, Karen felt the tip of his tongue pressing softly against the side of her lips. His fingers spread her open and his tongue followed them into the deepest recess. Her hips shifted to the edge of the bed and she let her legs flop even wider apart. As his tongue moved slowly in and out of her, his nose rubbed against the fleshy folds of her pussy. It felt unbelievably good and she was torn between wanting it to go on forever and needing to feel the weight of his cock between her legs.
His tongue slipped out of her and was quickly replaced by two long fingers. He fucked her with his hand while his tongue sought out buried treasure higher up.
“I used to dream of doing this,” he said, his words almost muffled as his mouth closed around her clit.
His tongue found what it was looking for and traced a circular path around his prize. Karen stretched away, arching her back to thrust her pelvis forward. Suction made her gasp loudly as she clutched for handfuls of the covers. The tongue that had felt so gentle in her mouth felt rough against the sensitive skin of her clit, rasping across it possessively, pulling and pressing. His mouth matched the movement of her hips as his fingers worked inside her. She felt completely open to his touch, pushing up to meet him, letting him know with soft moans how much pleasure he was giving her.
His tongue moved back and his teeth nipped painfully, closing sharply around her clit. With his free hand, he pinned her hips to the bed to stop her moving. She was still while his jaws roved, rolling her engorged clit between his teeth, pressing down harder until she had to scream. She grabbed at handfuls of his hair, not to push his head away but to thrust it harder, deeper between her legs.
The orgasm that ripped through her was just the first. As she lay panting on the bed, recovering from a climax that had shaken her to her very core, Tom stood up and wiped his face on his shirtsleeve.
Karen blinked. The bulge in his trousers made her feel instantly ready.
“I want you,” she said.
“I’m yours.”
Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it back over his shoulders. His torso was slender, though still muscular, and his skin was pale. There was only a sprinkling of hair on his chest and his nipples stood out like pink smudges that instantly made Karen want to lick them. He pulled the end of his belt taut to undo it and the rattle of the belt buckle sent another shiver through Karen’s still pulsing depths. His trousers dropped to the floor and he stood in front of her in white shorts, his cock straining out against the fabric.
“Let me,” she said.
She slid forward on the bed until she was sitting on the edge.
“Come here.”
He stepped closer and she reached out to touch his chest. He bent and kissed her on the mouth as gently as before, while she reached around to slip her hands into the back of his waistband. Undressed, he smelled so good. More than good. A delicious mingle of sweat and cologne and musk. Elemental male scent, with just a hint of her own smell added to the mix. Bringing her hands around the sides of his hips, she lowered his shorts, tugging at the waistband to free his cock and letting them drop to the floor. He stepped out of them, kicking the garment to one side.
Karen pulled her mouth away from his and put a hand against his chest to straighten him up. She took a long, hard look at his long, hard cock, bobbing in front of her face, and she liked what she saw very much. She reached out to touch it and it twitched as she wrapped her palm around it. She could feel the throb of a dark-blue vein that ran the length of its underside and she succumbed to a sudden compulsion to feel that same pulse with her tongue.
Tom put his hands on her shoulders as she sucked him into her mouth. The skin of the head of his cock was soft and a little salty. She searched out the tiny slit in the end and was rewarded with an even saltier taste of precome. Underneath, she found the ridge of the blue vein, bulging softly from the hard surface. She ran her tongue along its length, twisting her head so she could reach right down to the base, letting her tongue dart across the velvety skin and skitter all the way back up.
Tom grunted, rocking back on his heels. Karen sucked the length of his cock back into her mouth, stretching her neck out as she felt its blunt end hitting her palate. He whimpered and his hips jerked forward as he fucked her mouth. Karen slipped her arms around his waist to grab his buttocks, guiding him in and out, backward and forward, first quickly and then slowing it down so she could work him with her tongue. A trail of his salty juice trickled down Karen’s chin and she brought a hand around to cup his balls, applying soft pressure as she kept him moving in her mouth. Gradually, she increased the intensity of her sucking—she was so turned on, she practically wanted to swallow him entirely. But she held herself back, building his pleasure, massaging him with her tongue, playing her teeth along his length. Above her, she sensed his back arching as he emitted a long, low moan. Her tongue moved faster as she pulled him deeper into her mouth but he pulled back against her.
“I need to be inside you,” he said. “I don’t want to come yet, not until I’m inside you.”
Reluctantly, she let him withdraw.
“Take this off,” he said, tugging at the hem of the T-shirt Karen was still wearing.
He helped her raise it over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra and before the garment was clear she felt his mouth on one of her breasts. His tongue circled her nipple and then sucked it hard, pulling on it until Karen gasped. He used a hand to do the same to her other breast until Karen was moaning with need.
He pushed her up the bed and then reached out to the bedside cabinet.
“I’ve got a condom,” he said.
She nodded, thankful that one of them could still think rationally. She knew she would have let him fuck her without one. He ripped open the package and she helped him put it on. They both fumbled and it seemed to take forever but finally he was ready and he pushed her down onto her back on the bed. She opened her legs and guided him in as his mouth found hers.
It immediately felt right. Like a key entering a lock, the fit was perfect. He filled her and as he started to move slowly forward and back, waves of pleasure began rippling up through her like pulses of electric current. His tongue claimed hers and she raised her legs to wrap them around his waist. Ever so gradually, he built up speed, pushing himself deeper inside her with each thrust. She pushed back with her hips, opening herself up for him. The friction of his chest rubbing against her engorged nipples sent another flurry spiraling through her.
When he dropped his head to kiss the side of her neck, she reached a point of no return. The sharp dig of his teeth at the crook between neck and shoulder heralded a fierce cry as every shock wave of pleasure merged into an orgasm that tore through her, ripping her wide open, exposing all of her vulnerability and need. Her hips pushed up harder as his ground down on her, and he surged deeper still as her muscles closed tight around him. He made a noise that was part growl, part moan, back arched, still pushing against her as he came in response to the contractions inside her.
He slumped down on her, panting, their chests rising and falling in unison as they struggled for depleted oxygen. She lost herself in his deep-brown eyes and he smiled. Their hips were still flexing against each other as their climaxes receded. She felt his cock deflating inside her and as it slipped out she experienced another whisper of pleasure that made her giggle. He rolled off her and then pulled her across him so her head and one shoulder were on his chest. One of his arms wrapped protectively around her.
“Wow!”
It was all he needed to say and she nodded in agreement.
They lay like that for a while until he needed to move his arm.
“Do you still wish it had been Elliot?” he asked.
Elliot. The one who got away.
“Do you always ask silly questions?” she replied.
Now they could talk. Now they could catch up on the seven years gone by.