Three Weeks in Paris. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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his duffle coat on the floor next to the shopping bag and putting his arm around her, he led her into the bedroom.
He stopped in the middle of the room and taking hold of her shoulders he turned her to face him, stared into her eyes, his own questioning. ‘You went missing for a bit,’ he said, sounding more English than ever.
She stared back at him, said nothing.
He tilted her chin, leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘But I have the distinct feeling you’re suddenly back.’
‘I think so.’
‘I’m glad, Lexi.’
‘So am I,’ she answered.
He smiled and led her towards the bed without another word. They sat down together side by side, and he began to unbutton her shirt; she tugged at his tweed jacket, and within seconds they were both undressed, stretched out on the bed.
Leaning over her, he asked, ‘And where was it that you went?’
‘Not sure. Fell into a deep pit with my work, I suppose.’
He nodded, understanding, since he was an artist and tended to do the same at times when he was painting. But he had really missed her, and her withdrawal, her remoteness had worried him. Now he brought his mouth down to her, his kisses tender.
Alexandra felt that frisson once more, and she began to shiver slightly under his touching and kissing. He continued to kiss her as he stroked her thigh, and she experienced a sudden rush of heat, a tingling between her legs.
Unexpectedly, she stiffened. Swiftly, he brought his mouth to her mouth; his tongue sought hers, slid alongside hers, and they shared a moment of complete intimacy.
And all the while he did not stop stroking her inner thigh and the centre of her womanhood, his fingers working gently but expertly. To him it soon seemed as though she was opening like a lush flower bursting forth under a warm sun.
When she began to gasp, he increased his pressure and speed, wanting her to reach a point of ecstasy. He loved this woman, and he wanted to bind her to him, and he wanted to make love to her now, be joined with her.
With great speed, he entered her, thrusting into her so forcefully she cried out. Sliding his hands under her buttocks, he lifted her up, drew her closer to him, calling out her name as he did. ‘Come to me again, come with me, come where I’m going, Lexi!’ he exclaimed, his voice harsh, rasping.
And so she did as he demanded, wrapped her legs around his back, let her hands rest lightly on his shoulders. Together they soared, and as he began to shudder against her, he told her over and over again how much he loved making love to her.
Afterwards, when they finally lay still, relaxed and depleted, he lifted the duvet up and covered them with it, then took her in his arms. He said against her hair, ‘Isn’t this as good as it gets?’
When she remained silent, he added, ‘You know how good we are together…’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not going to go away from me again, are you?’
‘No…it was the work, the pressure.’
‘I’m relieved it wasn’t me. That you weren’t having second thoughts about me.’
She smiled. ‘You’re the best, Jack, the very best. Special…unique, actually.’
‘Ah, flattery will get you everywhere.’
‘I’ve just been there, haven’t I?’
‘Where?’
‘Everywhere. With you…to some wonderful place.’
Pushing himself up on one elbow, he peered down at her in the dim light of the fading day, wondering if she were teasing him. Then he saw the intensity in her light green eyes, and he said softly, ‘Let’s make it permanent.’
Those lucid green eyes he loved widened. ‘Jack…I don’t know what to say…’
‘Say yes.’
‘Okay. Yes.’
‘I’m talking marriage,’ he muttered, a sudden edge to his voice. He focused all of his attention on her, his eyes probing.
‘I know that.’
‘Will you?’
‘Will I what?’ Now she was teasing him and enjoying doing so, as she usually did.
‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes, I will.’
A slow, warm smile spread itself across his lean face, and he bent into her, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. Resting his head next to hers on the pillow, he continued, ‘I’m glad. Really so bloody glad, Lexi, that you’re going to be mine, all mine. Wow, this is great! And we’ll have a baby or two, won’t we?’
She laughed, happy that he was so obviously delirious with joy. ‘Of course. You know what, maybe we just made one.’
‘It’s a possibility. But to be really sure, shall we try again?’
‘You mean right now?’
‘I do.’
‘Can you?’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, of course I can. Feel this.’ Taking hold of her hand, he put it on him under the duvet. ‘See what you do to me. And I’ll always be ready to make babies with you, darling.’
‘Then stop boasting and let’s do it!’ she exclaimed, sliding a leg over him, kissing him on the mouth. ‘Let’s do it all night, in fact. It’s one of the things I love to do with you, Jack.’
‘Don’t you want dinner?’ He raised a brow.
‘Oh, who cares about food when we’ve something so important and crucial to do.’
He started to laugh. ‘I care. But we don’t have to venture out, my sweet. I brought dinner with me. In the shopping bag.’
‘Oh, so you planned all this, did you? Very devious, you are, Jack Wilton. You wicked, sexy man. I might have known you came here to seduce me. To impregnate me.’
‘Seduce you! What a bloody cheek! You’ve just displayed the most incredible example of splendid cooperation I’ve ever come across. As for impregnating you, you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to do that.’
They began to roar with laughter, hugging each other and rolling around on the bed, filled with hilarity and pleasure in each other, and the sheer happiness of being young and alive. But after a moment or two of this gentle horseplay, Jack’s face turned serious, and he held Alexandra still. ‘You’re not going to change your mind, are you, Lexi?’
‘’Course not, silly.’ She touched his cheek lightly, smiled seductively. ‘Shall we get to it then…making babies, I mean.’
‘Try and stop me–’ he began and paused.
The shrilling of the intercom startled Alexandra, and nonplussed she stared at Jack. Then she scrambled off the bed, took a woollen dressing gown out of the wardrobe, and struggled into it as she ran to the foyer. Lifting the intercom phone, she said, ‘Hello?’
‘FedEx delivery for Ms Gordon.’
‘Thanks. I’ll buzz you in. I’m on the fourteenth floor.’
The carbon copy of the original label on the front of the FedEx envelope was so faint she could barely make out the name and address of the sender. In fact, the only part she could read was Paris, France.
She stood holding the envelope, a small furrow crinkling the bridge of her nose. And then her heart missed a beat.
From the doorway of the bedroom, Jack said, ‘Who’s it from? You look puzzled.’