"Yes, that will be good."

Dropping the beer off to Savi, Olivier takes me back to the bench to sit. The next thirty minutes is like a sexercise in patience . . . I mean exercise. The sparkling wine makes me feel lighter than I've felt in ages. Looser too, but I blame that on Paris, not the alcohol.

The group is friendly. Savi is more friendly than most. I giggle when he flirts with me and Olivier possessively wraps his arm around my shoulders. Leaning back against his chest, I say, "J'adore Paris."

His warm breath hits the shell of my ear, and he replies, "Paris vous adore."

Awww. Paris adores me. "What about you?"

"I find you utterly irresistible." His arm tightens. "Ready?"

"To go? Yes."

"I meant for another drink since yours is almost gone, but I like your idea better."

I laugh, completely embarrassed. "I'm not always so forward." I finish my drink and find myself gravitating toward him as if there was space that still existed between us. The close confines of the crowded bench only heighten our connection. Olivier's hand rubs gently down my thigh and back up. It slides again, taking the skirt of my dress with him. My breath catches in my throat but I like it, so I roll with it.

He stops and stands abruptly. With a wave, he speaks loudly to the group, "Au revoir." Reaching down he takes my hand, helping me up.

The music seems louder as the hour has gotten later. We don't talk on our way out of the club. Our words will just be lost in the beat anyway. But as soon as we reach the sidewalk, he looks at me, no smile at all. Instead, it's a look that makes me want to do dirty things that will make me burn with regret in the morning.

What has come over me?

A hand with bad intentions rubs my lower back reminding me exactly what has come over me. He flags down a taxi and we get in quickly. Both of us on the same determined heat wave, leading us straight back to the hostel. Listening to him direct the driver makes me feel safe and taken care of. His hand slides over and takes hold of mine again as he eases back and looks out the window. There's a confidence that appears to come easy for him and I find it so sexy.

"Top bunk or bottom bunk?" I ask, wanting to break the silence as my nerves start to kick in.

"What do you mean, Americain Rayon de Soleil?"

"Bad joke."

"Joke?" he asks.

I smile, squeezing his hand, then shake my head. "Never mind. I was being silly."

The cab comes to a stop out front and I pay this time. "I've got this."

After paying we slip out and walk inside. The lobby is empty and I'm glad for the reprieve from Stefan and his crazy antics tonight. We sneak upstairs . . . or it feels like we're sneaking upstairs though I'm pretty sure that no one cares what we're doing or about to do. Olivier unlocks the door and pulls me in quickly behind him. The door is shut and I'm pushed against it. With eyes closed, his hands settle on my waist as he rubs his cheek against mine. With our bodies pressed together, I take a deep breath, inhaling him into my system before releasing all my inhibitions.

Chapter 5.

Olivier's hands were so sure a moment earlier have become tentative as he slides my sweater down from my shoulders. My purse is already off and the two items are hung on a hook nearby. My neck is taken by his lips as he kisses my skin, working his way up to my mouth. Our breaths intermingle and his words are calculated for me to understand, "Tu as si bon gout."

My knees weaken knowing he's 'tasting' me. I take his face in my hands and lock eyes with him. "My turn," I say. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I close my eyes and lean in, pressing my lips to his. The sound of us making a song that fills the air and my ears as I get lost in him. Our lips part and our tongues meet for the first time. I love that the meeting feels natural and is filled with need.

I'm spun around and led backward to the bed. He backs away suddenly, breathless like me, and stares at me. The open blinds send a slanted, lined pattern across his body and face. He asks, "If we do this . . . er, ummm. . . . Like they say 'there's no going back.' "

With my chest heaving from the intensity, I say, "I don't want to go back. I just want to move forwar-"

He takes me hard, his hands holding me to him, peppering me with kisses and phrases that sound more like swearing. I hold his shoulders, then slide his jacket down. The jacket is dropped as my hands reach his stomach. The hem of his shirt is lifted and I find the soft skin of his body over the hard muscles of his abs. He reaches down, grabs his shirt, and takes it off over his head in one smooth move. Reaching for his belt, he undoes it as I turn around for him. With his jeans hanging open, the belt buckle weighing down one side bumps against my backside. My zipper is pulled down the length of my back by assured fingers. My bra is undone in the process.

With his fingers, he traces down my spine and follows with his mouth. The dress falls to the ground landing with a poof around my ankles. I step out holding onto my bra while turning to face him again. Kicking off his shoes, he slides his jeans down and stands in his fitted boxer shorts before me. "Lay down," he demands.

I sit on the edge of the bed before maneuvering my legs onto it. He leans down and takes my shoes off one by one with care. Getting onto the bed, he moves between my legs and so uncharacteristically like me, I let him. I feel his hardness as he moves higher until he's hovering over me. With a finger, he pulls down the loose bra and begins rubbing his hand over my breast. Bending down, he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, then bites just enough to make my back arch up. Wanting more, I moan ever so softly. There's more sucking before he moves over to the other breast and repeats the sweet torturous process.

My straps are taken down slowly, leaving me bare underneath him. His chest presses down on mine, our skin heating from the contact. With his mouth on my skin, he says, "Je vais te faire l'amour et ensuite te baiser de telle sorte que tu te souviennes de moi longtemps apres avoir quitte Paris."

Words coated in sexual prowess cover the nook of my neck. I react with uncontrolled heavy breaths, my mind swirling, not able to latch onto the meaning of what he said. In English this time, he says, "I'm going to make love to you, then fuck you so you'll remember me long after you leave Paris."

And with that, I grip my thighs to his sides, and rub against his erection, the few inhibitions I was holding onto annihilated by his promise. A promise I hope he keeps.

My panties are soaked as the feel of the cotton between us adds to the sensations, making me feel wanton and equally sexy. One of my breasts is squeezed, then kneaded as our lips find purchase against each other again. Our tongues are even deeper until his mouth owns mine and I have a feeling he already owns more when it comes to me. But my mind goes numb, my thoughts silencing as our bodies speak their own inviting language of love . . . and fuck.

The twin bed doesn't offer a lot of room, but there's enough for him to flip me suddenly on top of him. "Remove these," he says, tugging at the side of my panties.

Staring down at him, I grab the waistband of his boxers and say, "Remove these."

The cockiest grin I've ever witnessed crosses his lips and he nods. "I like this you."

I roll to the side and strip the rest of the way. The panties were just an obstacle at this stage anyway. I may not have had sex with many guys, only two notches on my invisible bedpost, but this time is different. I'm different. I want this-not because I'm somebody's girlfriend or because it's that time in a relationship. I want this. I want him because he makes my body crave him in ways I've never craved someone before. "Not the normal me?"

He's naked next to me and I'm fascinated by his hardened length. I run my fingers over him, causing his body to react. I love the control. He covers my hand with his and closes my fingers around his cock. As we rub up and down slowly, him squeezing me, me squeezing him, he says, "I like the other you too, but you're relaxed."

"I've been drinking."

"You're not drunk." Our hands quicken.

My thighs tighten together. I'm wet in anticipation. I look up until our eyes meet. "No, I'm not drunk."

He reaches to his toiletry bag on the nightstand and pulls a condom out of it. Moaning from pleasure as we jerk him off, he says, "Stop." The word comes out harsher, almost chaotic. Our hands release before he has a chance to finish and he rips open the packet, slides the condom on, and then adds, "I want you on top."

Maybe he can see the fear in my eyes or can sense it because his expression softens. "Have you ever been on top?"

I shake my head shyly, suddenly feeling like he'll judge me for my lack of experience. "But I make amazing chocolate chunk brownies."

Laughing, he makes me giggle too. He pauses, staring at me. Then he says, "I will make you feel good." His hand moves between my legs and his fingers slip between my lower lips, not hurried, but with purpose. When he begins to massage my clit, my head drops to the mattress and I adjust to give him more access, easier access. He sits up on his elbow, facing me. Dragging his fingertips upward, he brings them to his mouth and 'tastes' me again.

Lying back, he says, "Come here." Directing me on top of him, I stop when I see he wants me above his mouth. I look down at him, my body flaming in desire and some new shame that he'll not like what he sees or eats or tastes or whatever he plans to do to me in this position. "You taste so good. I want to do this for you and for me."

Swallowing my humiliation down, I try to clear my head and go with the sensations again and position myself above him. He grips my hips lowering me down. Reaching forward I grab a hold of the bed in front of me. When his tongue touches me for the first time, I jump a little and my knees tighten around his head. "Relax, Sunshine."

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down and enjoy this. He kisses my inner thigh softly and I look down to watch him. His eyes are on mine as his head shifts and he kisses my clit this time, lingering there a moment before opening his mouth and sucking gently. My eyelids flutter closed as I feel him taking care of me in ways that no one has ever done. I move. My body is caught between pleasure and pain as he draws out parts of me I've never felt. As his tongue enters me, I realize how dirty, scandalous, and absolutely fucking amazing this feels.

My grip tightens on the wood that suddenly feels fragile under my fingers, my nails scraping against it, leaving notches of my own. My legs start to quiver as my body begins to quake, tremoring to life. Then he stops . . .

"What are you doing?" My voice goes up an octave with desperation.

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 cliches 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 cafe?"

"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-elysees 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-elysees, 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 Americain."

"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.