Page 61 of Je T'aime, Actually

Monroe nodded. “I am saying I love you.”

forty-nine

Saturday morning had unfolded in a blissful sprawl of warmth and softness. For Monroe, it had been perfect, waking late after a night spent tangled in Chloé’s arms, making love until they’d both lost count of the orgasms and hours that had passed. It was the kind of night that made sleeping in feel less like laziness and more like sacred recovery.

When she finally stirred, it was to the feeling of soft breath on her cheek, and the sight of Chloé watching her with a quiet smile.

“You’re beautiful when you sleep,” Chloé whispered. “But when you wake up, in my bed, in my arms…that is truly beautiful.”

Monroe smiled sleepily and burrowed closer, tucking herself tighter into the curve of Chloé’s body. “Well, get used to it.”

“I plan to.” Chloé kissed the top of her head.

There was a pause, comfortable and warm, before she asked, “Did you have any idea how and when…”

“So many ideas.” Monroe giggled, leaning back and propping herself up on one elbow to look at her. “I thought…I’m going to need more clothes and just general things, like a car.”

“We can put you on my insurance,” Chloé offered easily.

“Or I can drive over next time and bring what I need,” Monroe mused. “You’ll need your car, and I can’t be getting up every day to drive you around and pick you up again later. I’ll need to prove I can work from here without any issues.”

Chloé nodded. There was little to disagree with. “I won’t be able to come over and help—”

“I don’t need you to,” Monroe cut in gently. “I’ll head back Sunday night as planned. On Monday, I’ll speak with Neil and sort everything at work. I don’t think he’ll say no, but I will need to be available for big meetings. And I need some proper time with Kitty.”

“Of course. Whatever you need. I just… I wish I could do more. Instead, I am here, how do you say? Running around like a blue fly?”

Monroe smiled, choosing not to correct her, it was cuter without the ‘arse’ bit. “It’s going to be a busy time for both of us. But at least we won’t have the added pressure of trying to fit our relationship in around airports.”

“Those are precious hours we can save. You’re right. One hour flight, yes, but thirty minutes to the airport, two or three hours waiting, then the flight, and another half hour here, back and forth. That’s nearly an entire day gone to travelling.”

“Right now, I just want to enjoy the hours we have together—drink wine, eat cheese, and make love.”

Monroe shifted, twisting until she could slip her leg over Chloé’s thighs, her skin already slick with want, the electric thrum of need pulsing just beneath the surface. “I feel like I can never be satisfied,” she whispered, grinning into a kiss. “I need you.”

The words fell against Chloé’s lips, breathy and low, as Monroe took charge of Chloé’s hand and guided it between her own legs.

“Touch me,” she murmured, “the way only you can.”

Chloé didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her fingers moved with instinctive precision, remembering every flicker of Monroe’s breath, every subtle shift of her body.

Monroe’s eyes fluttered closed as her hips rocked forward, chasing every spark of sensation. The way Chloé touched her, like there was nothing else in the world, left her undone.

“God, yes…” she whispered, forehead resting against Chloé’s, breaths shared in a rising rhythm.

Chloé kissed her, slow and deep, her free hand cradling the back of Monroe’s neck.

“You’re everything,” she murmured. “Do you feel that? The way you come alive in my hands?”

Monroe let out a soft moan, her body trembling as the pressure built. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Chloé’s voice was velvet, steady, her fingers never wavering. “Not until you fall apart for me…again.”

And she did.

Monroe shattered in a silent cry, her body arching as waves of pleasure washed through her. Chloé held her through it, grounding her with whispered French endearments and kisses to her damp skin.

When Monroe finally collapsed against her, breathless and glowing, she laughed softly into Chloé’s shoulder. “How am I ever meant to leave this bed?”