Page 19 of Eat Slay Love

Chapter fourteen

Wet, Wrecked, Worshipped

Fabien

Instantly, she stopped laughing and looked at me over her shoulder. “Fabien. . .what do you mean we have to talk?”

“Is your passport up to date?”

“Uh. . .yes but—”

“Is it here in New York?”

“Would you calm down?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Will I need to call the police?”

“It’s too late you’re already arrested by an international spy.”

She laughed.

Oh. She thinks I’m playing.

I lifted my hand and brought it down hard on her lush ass.

The sharp smack echoed through the suite.

“Oh!” She gasped, her spine arching, her ass jiggling beneath the impact in a way that made my vision blur for a second. “Holy fuck.”

Think.

I stilled, my palm resting against the curve of her ass, feeling the lingering heat from the smack. Her body was still trembling, her breath unsteady, but something in her laughter, in the teasing lilt of her voice, gnawed at me.

I’m missing something.

She wasn’t afraid of me.

She wasn’t holding back because she didn’t want this.

She was holding back because she still saw an exit.

And maybe that was my fucking fault.

Maybe the problem wasn’t that she was hesitating—it was that I was trying to force her into a decision she wasn’t ready to make.

I was asking her to drop everything, to rework her life, to abandon whatever plans she had for the sake of me— a man that she had just met.

But wasn’t I the one who could move?

Wasn’t I the one with endless resources?

I had spent the last few hours trying to claim her.

Trying to own her.

Trying to bend her to my will.

But was that the mistake?

Was the real answer not making her come to me, but going to her?

The thought lodged in my chest like a blade.

Well. . .this is interesting. I don’t think. . .I know how to do this. . .

I had never chased a woman in my life. Never restructured my world around someone else. But fuck. . .wasn’t that exactly what I wanted from her?

I wanted her to choose me, to see a future in me, to trust that I wasn’t just some passing storm in her life.

So maybe it wasn’t about making her stay.

Maybe it was about showing her that I would go anywhere.

That I would follow her.

Even to California.

Even to the ends of the earth.

But even as that realization settled in, a deeper, darker fear curled at the edges of my thoughts.

What if that wasn’t the problem?

What if it weren’t about logistics, about control, about where we lived or how we could make this work?

What if she just. . didn’t feel the same?

The idea cracked something in me.

So fast, I had gone all in, no hesitation.

I had seen the future so clearly—dating, engagement, marriage. A life where I worshiped her body for decades, where I woke up every morning knowing she was mine.

But what if I was the only one who saw it?

What if I was the only one falling?

I exhaled sharply, my grip tightening on her hip.

For the first time since I met her, I felt uncertain.

And I fucking hated it.

But for Rae, I would wait.

She blinked at me. “Fabien. . .I just can’t. . .stay in New York. . .but I do like you. . .so much it. . .scares me.”

My heart warmed. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“So. . .” I did my best to not grumble. “Don’t tell me that I’ll need to go to California.”

Suddenly, she turned away from me, put her face forward toward the wall, and I could tell without seeing her expression that she was nervous. Her voice came out shaky. “Would you really come to California for me ? You barely know me.”

"I would follow you to the ends of the earth, chérie ." I gently massaged the ass cheek that I’d smacked. “Is that what you want—me on the plane with you heading to California tomorrow?”

She shivered under my touch. “You wouldn’t. . .”

“That’s not an answer.” I traced the curve of her hip and leaned my head over her shoulder to get a side view of her face.

She was biting her lower lip anxiously, and her eyes were filled with worry. “This is happening fast.”

“It is.”

“I don’t want to rush this.”

“Yet, you’re mine.”

She parted her lips in shock.

I had never once in my life wanted to set foot in California.

Too sunny.

Too cheerful.

Too many beaches.

Too many perfect fake bodies.

Too much endless summer.

It was the opposite of what I thrived in—the shadows, the decadence, the rich grittiness of Paris.

But for her?

I would go anywhere.

Antarctica, if necessary.

“Rae. . .”

She closed her eyes.

“If you told me you were leaving tomorrow for the Arctic Circle, I would be on the next flight, wrapped in fur, ready to seduce you under the Northern Lights.”

She snapped her eyes open.

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to ease my grip on her hips before I did something irreversible, something that would have us missing her flight because she was too weak to move.

Instead, I reached for her wrist, guiding her to turn toward me.

She looked up at my face, her big brown eyes searching, as if she were still processing the weight of my words.

“I’ve never wanted to go to California.” I ran my thumb over her wrist, feeling her pulse, feeling her warmth. “But I’d go for you.”

She swallowed. “Fabien—”

“It would be a simple phone call,” I continued, voice even, steady, as if I weren’t absolutely wrecked by how much I needed her. “I would just need to change my inspection region from France to California. Nothing more. No big deal.”

Her lips parted slightly. “You would really do that for me?”

I smirked, brushing my knuckles along her jaw, tilting her chin just slightly. “ Chérie , I would. I would even learn how to skate along the beach and surf like a true, annoying Californian.”

I expected her to laugh.

Expected some snarky, sarcastic quip.

But instead. . .she shivered.

My heart stopped.

Her breath came out uneven, her hands trembling just slightly against my chest.

I felt it before she even said the words.

The shift.

The surrender.

Yes. She is falling for me too. Thank God.

I ran my hands down her side, settling on the soft curve of her hips. “You know you want me there.”

Her breath hitched. “I do. . .I’m just not. . .used to a man going to this level to be with me.”

Aww. That’s what the problem was. Now, I understand.

She was used to being left behind.

Used to men making her feel like she was too much, or not enough, or something in between that was never quite right.

“I am not them. I would follow you anywhere. I’d be a menace, Rae. Imagine me in California. I’d start drinking green juices. Running on the beach at sunrise.”

She let out a breathy laugh, but it was unsteady, as if she were still fighting whatever war was happening inside her chest.

I tightened my grip, grounding her. “Rae, let me come with you. I’ll have my assistant find me a nice place to settle in. That wouldn’t be a problem. However, we need time to get to know each other. . .not just this one night. It can’t just be this one night.”

She exhaled sharply, as if I had just stolen whatever final resistance she had left.

And then. . .she nodded.

“Yes?”

She let out a slow breath. “Yes. Come to California with me.”

The second the words left her lips, something inside me snapped.

Not in rage.

Not in desperation.

But in relief .

Yes. Yes.

She was mine.

Not just in this moment, not just in the heat of the night, but beyond. A future had just been cemented between us, one she might not even fully understand yet.

But I did.

California.

Paris.

The Arctic.

Hell itself—I would follow her anywhere.

And now she knew it.

I swallowed the rush of possessiveness, let it coil low in my gut, let it fuel me, because fuck—she had no idea what she’d just unleashed.

I cupped her jaw, tilting her head up, memorizing the look in her eyes.

Wide.

Heated.

Soft with something dangerously close to devotion.

Mon dieu.

I could drown in her.

But not yet.

Not before I gave her something to remember before we ever set foot on that plane tomorrow.

I smirked and ran my thumb over her lips, pressing just enough to feel the heat of her breath. “Turn back around.”

Her breath hitched. “Fabien—”

“Now.”

Something flickered in her gaze—hesitation, desire, something caught between the two—but then, with a slow, measured movement, she obeyed.

God, I loved that about her.

She had no idea what it did to me when she listened.

When she trusted me.

When she surrendered to the things she didn’t even realize she needed .

She pressed her palms flat against the wall again, her back arching just enough to send my mind spiraling into every filthy thought I’d ever had about her.

That perfect ass, round and high, barely covered by that fucking pink lace thong.

A growl rumbled from deep in my chest as I slid my hands down her sides, slow, deliberate, savoring the way she shivered under my touch.

“So beautiful, chérie ,” I traced the dimples above her ass. “Every inch of you.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, Fabien.”

I smacked her ass again, harder this time.

She gasped, her fingers flexing against the wall, her body jolting forward before she rocked back into me.

Oh yes. She fucking likes that.

I smirked, running my palm over the heated skin, feeling the way she clenched beneath my touch. “That’s right. Tell me this.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever fucked on the beach?”

“No.”

“Then, I’ll make sure my assistant gets me a private spot on the beach.”

“Mmmm.” Her breath was uneven, her legs shifting.

I gave her another smack.

A soft moan slipped from her lips.

Fuck.

I squeezed her ass, watching the way it molded against my palm, then reached for her hips, yanking them back until she had no choice but to bend for me.

A strangled sound left her throat as she braced herself against the wall, her spine curving, presenting herself to me like the perfect gift that she was .

I let out a ragged breath, my control slipping by the second. “Do you feel that, chérie ?”

She swallowed hard. “Y-yes.”