Page 118 of Catching Trouble

“Oui,” he said, kissing the side of my neck.

“Yes, but she’s probably concerned. Last she heard, I was on the beach talking about Valerie—you and Valerie—and the bee sting from hell. The radio silence is probably unsettling to her.”

“Call her then,” he whispered. “Or at least, text. We won’t get a moment’s peace until you do.”

I pulled my brows. I fully intended to call Iris and give her an extremely thorough rundown on my afternoon. But with Maxime here, I’d have to gloss over all the best bits. I pushed up onto my elbow, sending her an eggplant emoji, a picture of a guy in a party hat, blowing a horn, and a face with one finger held to his lips. I smiled. She’d get the gist.

Turning my phone off, I tucked it under my pillow and turned into him.

“How was Bean?”

He gave a low laugh. “Hungry. And howling outside the bedroom door when I went to get your phone.”

My belly twisted. Poor little guy. He missed Sophie, but Maxime and I had agreed—as the venue for our current love fest, his bedroom wasn’t kitten-appropriate.

“I fed him and sent Sophie a proof-of-life picture. He’s curled up on the daybed now.”

I loosened my shoulders a little, imagining him in hisusual croissant shape. I’d smother him with love in the morning. For now, like in any good relationship, boundaries were crucial.

More importantly, I didn’t want him corrupted by whatever Maxime and I got up to next. We might break his innocent little kitty brain.

We’d had an afternoon of torrid sex, unfiltered discovery, and future planning. Not that we’d discussed chapels and rings, but we had talked about me moving into his room when Sophie left. And about the club and Chloe Au Lait.

We agreed to take things between us slowly, but I couldn’t imagine that would last long.

I ran my eyes over his face. The long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, the stubble clinging to his jaw, his wild hair. And, of course, his beautifully inked skin.

I curved my lips. Nothing about Maxime was slow. His love was fast and hard and…

“Chloe,” he murmured.

“Hmmm?” I answered, pressing my body into his.

Maxime took my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Thank you.”

I shook my head slowly, kissing his chest. “For what?”

His hazel eyes darted around the room before returning to mine. “For everything. For putting up with me. For making my life complete.”

He kissed my knuckles, and I nestled into him.

“I didn’t know I needed you so much. And I can’t bear the thought of you ever leaving.”

I wrapped myself around him, my heart ready to overflow.

“Don’t worry, the feeling is entirely mutual. I’m not going anywhere. When faced with the choice of shacking up with an insanely hot sea god or a man who knows how to depreciate an asset, I know which I’ll pick.”

He pulled his dark brows tight. “What?”

I giggled, recalling Mum’s enthusiasm for my life as a receptionist or a corporate wife.

“Don’t stress. I predict we’ll be just fine here on the coast. We’ll make a great team.”

Maxime smiled, running his hand through my hair, curling a strand around one calloused finger. When he gave it a gentle tug, I shifted, climbing over him, need flickering low and hot in my belly.

“I think we already do,” he murmured, trailing his hand down my spine—his touch light, reverent—sparking a rush of goosebumps across my skin. “Do you want to test the theory again?”

As I straddled him, he pushed his hips and hardness into me. I smiled and lay my palm on his sternum. “Always. But if we don’t want to run out of condoms before dawn, we’ll need other ways to prove how good we are together.”