Despite the crowd of tourists, it felt as though they stood alone at the top of the world.
“Paris is so romantic.” Lucy sighed and leaned on the railing at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
That almost-kiss in the catacombs had shaken her to her spinning, melty core. And his muscled back had stirred her fantasies while in the map shop. Was she ready to take this fantasy a step further? With Conor’s arm around her waist, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to.
She’d told Maeve she hadn’t the time for romance. Apparently, time had other plans for her.
Meeting her gaze, Conor brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. Let the world stare; she stood in the falling zone. Falling for a man she barely knew. Falling for the storybook idea of love at first sight. Simply…falling.
“I need a selfie to remember this moment.” She pulled out her phone and—
Conor’s grimace reminded her that he wasn’t keen on photos of himself.
“Just of me,” she said, but wishing it could be both of them. “My ducks love following my adventures.” She took a shot.
“Your ducks?”
“I call my followers ‘lucky ducks’ because I usually start each reel with ‘Hey, Ducks!’ It’s my brand. They love it.”
Conor whispered into her ear, “Can I be your lucky duck?”
No, she didn’t want to put him in the same collection as her faceless followers. He stood in a class of his own. A man she honestly did trust. That they had shared that moment of realization in the catacombs meant so much to her.
“You think about it,” he said to her silence. “I, uh…feel compelled to once again try to kiss you.”
Lucy nodded. A little dumbstruck. A lot panicked. But overall, wanting him more than anything she’d ever desired.
Tenderly, Conor’s lips met her mouth. Taking in the overwhelming everything of him—his strength, his sexy ocean eyes, his vanilla-leather scent, the heat of his skin—she stopped thinking, stopped taking in the chatter of tourists around them and surrendered to the moment.
A first kiss should be exciting, a little careful, promising and ultimately so hot it could burn a hole through a woman’s wanting heart. This kiss was all that and more. Conor tasted like the thick, rich chocolate they’d sipped at a café along the way and of something tantalizing and enchanting. Passion. Their tentative connection quickly moved to desire. She clutched his shirt, wanting to put herself inside his vitality, the tingling joy of being close to a man. Mapping his body with hers.
Conor swept a hand across her back and hugged her body against his.
Closer, she thought. I need to map the path to your heart. Because that would focus her on the moment and not the reality that this was only a foray, not her real life. Yes, she wanted romance, but…how could that possibly happen in a single day?
He explored her with a kiss that was part gentlemanly, part adventurer and all masculine power. When she felt her knees grow wobbly, and thought surely her heartbeat could win a marathon, Lucy gently, regrettably, parted from the kiss.
There was no one to snap a shot of this incredible moment, but her heart recorded it all. Conor bowed his forehead to hers.
She sighed with delight. “Best kiss.”
“Ever.” He took her hand and steered her toward the elevators. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
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