When we were almost to the city of Bordeaux, I find out why.
He turns off the main road and onto a little lane. The countryside in this area is amazing. Rolling hills, rows of grapes growing from dark dirt, and green as far as the eye can see.
“So, my dad stays here and loves it,” he says to me with a grin. “When I told him we were headed this way, he booked us a special suite.”
And special was a good way to put it. The small luxury hotel was recently built of all recycled wood and finishes. Our suite is its own structure that sits on stilts over a pond. It has a cozy, cabin-like feel, a large deck for relaxing, and a big bed topped with luxury linens and a beautiful quilt. I’ve never stayed anywhere quite like this. The property also features a small bistro, a five-star restaurant, and an incredible spa.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“You’re beautiful.”
He kisses me and then leads me toward the bed.
He slowly unbuttons the white cotton blouse I wore today.
As it slides off my shoulders, he kisses my neck and whispers in my ear. “Nothing ever becomes real ‘til it is experienced.”
“That’s Keats, right?”
“Keats poetry for my Keats,” he says with a nod and a grin.
“So does that mean I finally get to experience you?”
He caresses my shoulder, kisses my neck, and then looks into my eyes. The way he looks is better than anything I ever scripted. Better than anything I ever imagined. I smile at him and wrap my arms around his waist.
He gently pushes my bangs out of my face and looks deep into my eyes. “You said when you did it before that you weren't in love with him. I've never been in love before either. So in a way, it's both of our first times.”
I fight the temptation to throw him on the bed. I’ve waited a long time for this. I want to savor it.
I pull his shirt up over his head and pepper his chest with teeny kisses.
He falls back onto the bed, pulling me on top of him.
I half laugh, half scream, but keep kissing his chest. I want to kiss every bit of it.
I work my way down to his abs. Run my fingers across them. Kiss them.
Then I unbutton his shorts. He quickly kicks them off, then flips me over so that he’s lying on top of me.
He kisses down my neck and runs his hands all over my body. Then he reaches behind me, undoes my bra, and kisses across my chest. I really don’t know how much more I can take. I move one of my boobs closer to his mouth, and when he finally complies, I let out a little gasp.
Screw savoring it.
I shove my hand between his legs and roughly rub the front of his boxers. He starts breathing a little more heavy, but doesn’t stop going slow.
He kisses down my stomach, stopping only to unbutton my shorts and slide them off, my panties coming off along with them. Then he kisses the rest of me.
My stomach.
Down my legs.
The insides of my thighs.
Which about drives me insane.
He even kisses the tops of my feet, the tips of my toes, then, finally, he stops going so incredibly wonderfully excruciatingly slow.
He kisses fast up my legs and slides his finger into me.
I pull him to my lips, run my fingers wildly through his hair, and kiss him frantically while I push his boxers off with my feet.
He stops for a second to roll on a condom and then . . . finally.
Thursday, June 30th
Come and find you.
9am
I wake up to Brooklyn running his hand gently across my face.
He smiles at me and says, “Last night was incredible. I'll never forget you, forget this perfect night.”
“Is that more Keats?” I tease.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. While you were gone, I was drowning myself in Keats poetry. I think I memorized half of what he wrote.”
“And I’ve been drowning myself in bad decisions. It’s a good thing you showed up.”
He laughs. “I’d say I showed up last night.”
“That you did. It’s true what they say. About it being better when you’re in love.”
“I do love you, Keats. I have for a while. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it. You were with Sander. Damian told me I should just come out and tell you. He thought you’d break up with Sander if I did. I didn’t want that. Didn’t want to be the cause of a breakup. I was so damn happy that night on the beach. You looked so beautiful in your dress. It took everything I had not to tell you then. To only kiss you on the cheek.”
“You told me I was desirable.”
He grins and kisses me. “You are, obviously,” he says as he rolls on top of me.
Brooklyn orders us breakfast, and we snuggle up in bed while we wait for it.
“So what do you think of France so far?” I ask him.
“It’s great. I miss home though. I miss our beach.”
“I’ve been thinking about not going home. About living here. Or traveling the world.”
“You kinda need to finish school first, don't you think?”
“I’ll do it like you did. Like, online or something. I don't want to go back home.”