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Katarina, who was clearly not done, gave the now tightly furled nipple a last little bite before she suddenly let go and thestill-cold mouth moved downward. Swiftly, no more slow licks or gentle kisses. It was as if Katarina herself was too hungry to tarry anymore. In a matter of seconds, long fingers were opening Juliette, running through her soaked folds, splitting her open and slipping inside with ease. Katarina thrust once, twice, and then she was tasting her, licking her, drinking her in, again and again.

Juliette screamed. The feeling of insistent fingers, fucking her with ruthless precision, hitting the very root of her existence with every thrust, combined with the deft tongue wrapping itself around her clit, was almost too much.

The remnants of the ice and the hot, demanding pull of Katarina’s mouth had driven Juliette crazy in minutes. She had always thought herself a rather difficult-to-please lover. And yet, this woman had been different from their very first time. Juliette had come fast and had come again and again, and it had been spectacular every single time.

And now, as always, Katarina was relentless, her eyes pure sin, leaving Juliette nothing to hide and nowhere to run. She pulled the silky strands she had been clutching, she tried to evade, it was all too much…

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliette?” Katarina whispered against her wet and tender skin, and Juliette barely managed to stave off the orgasm. She’d come any second. She’d come and she’d be powerless to keep herself from saying the words. The words she tried to not burden Katarina with. It was too soon. It was too much.

But the wicked, wicked tongue licked the underside of her clit so insistently, so fast and hard and so hot. Juliette’s fingers in Katarina’s hair tightened. She was hanging on to the very precipice.

“Let go, love. Let go,my love.” Katarina lifted her face, and the eyes were so, so grave, so resolute that Juliette felt tears spilleven as the orgasm overtook her, breaching the last vestiges of her good intentions, of her selflessness, of her self-preservation.

Still throbbing, muscles clenching around thrusting fingers, and heart beating out of her chest, she pulled Katarina up, kissing her, tasting herself on those love-swollen lips.

“I love you.” They said it in one breath, in one voice, and Juliette knew the sciences, the seismic laws of physics had allowed them this moment. Just for the two of them. Just for this. The world had finally stopped. It would spin again, very soon everything would be in motion, but that would be much later. For this one fragment of time, they were happy, together, and everything stood still just for them.

21

OF PATISSERIE HEART TO HEARTS & BLIND FAITH

Francesca waited for her at a pastry shop of all places. And she had what looked like half a baguette cut up in small tartines in front of her. She licked the jam off her thumb as Juliette entered the place and set down her espresso. For a second they just stared at each other, the crowded space, the people milling about, the smells of baked dough and coffee filling the silence between them.

Seven years, and it had come down to this.

“You’ve had two weeks from hell, I bet.” The words, in the familiar heavily accented voice, landed like a blow. Or a caress. With Francesca, Juliette no longer knew the difference these days.

“And you’ve discovered the wonders of French bread? You who swore never to set foot in a patisserie? The one who drove the entire company insane with your demands on our bodies?”

“Ah, I get the fighting Juliette today?”

Then Francesca visibly deflated, the sarcasm and the slyness gone from her tone as she got up and reached for Juliette. The hug was tender and sincere.

“I’m sorry, amor. I really am.”

“For what? I did betray you.” Juliette held her for a second before letting go and sitting down. The server eyed her warily, obviously recognizing the Princess of Paris and just as obviously puzzled that she’d patronize such an establishment. Out of spite, if nothing else, Juliette pointed to the back of the place where food was being preparedand smiled.

“I’d love the same.” She waved at Francesca’s scrumptious meal. Oh, and a café au lait.” She turned to Francesca after the perplexed server left and murmured, “Remind me to add sugar, while I’m at it.”

“You going nuts on me, Jett?”

“You’re not the boss of me, Cesca.”

Then, after a lengthy beat, they both laughed.

“Oh, amor. This thoroughly blows. I hear they stopped speaking to you at Garnier, even Rochefort.”

“You hear? Or you made sure they did?”

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Francesca tore a piece of the baguette then set it down on the plate.

“You chose her over me, Juliette.”

Well, nobody ever doubted that Francesca was brilliant. Of course she had figured out the gambit immediately.

“Is that why you haven’t said anything? Publicly? Or even to the people over at Place de l’Opéra? Is that why all you’re doing is pouting and playing the martyred saint?”

“You don’t think martyrdom is attractive?” Francesca’s grin was sly.