Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
“Good morning, mon ange,” Frederic murmurs against my lips, his voice still husky with sleep.
I blink up at him, still processing - still recovering from the last twelve hours of my life.
“Sleep well?”
A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he already knows the answer.
I scoff, dragging the sheets a little higher as I sit up against the headboard.
“Oh, sure. After you finally let me sleep.”
Frederic chuckles, the sound low and satisfied as he reaches for the tray he set down moments before.
“Can’t imagine what might’ve kept you up.”
I roll my eyes, but the effect is entirely ruined when he lifts the tray onto the bed and settles in next to me, his body warm and solid against mine.
And then, he removes the lid.
Oh.
This isn’t just room service. This is a full-blown banquet.
Freshly brewed coffee, two types of juice - orange and apple, because apparently, he’s a thoughtful overachiever - a plate of golden, flaky croissants and pain au chocolat, a bowl of fresh fruit, yogurt with honey, cereal, and a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs with toast on the side.
I blink.
And then I blink again.
“…Did you invite half the hotel to join us?” I ask, arching a brow.
Frederic simply grins, reaching for a croissant and tearing a piece off.
“I didn’t know what you’d want,” he responds smoothly, popping it into his mouth.
“So, your solution was to order everything on the menu?”
His lips twitch, like he’s debating whether or not to say something cocky.
“You know me, Poppy,” he says eventually, smirking as he lifts a steaming cup of coffee and hands it to me. “I don’t do things by halves.”
I huff out a laugh, taking the cup from him.
“No, you definitely don’t.”
I take a careful sip, and oh, god.
Even the coffee is perfect.
“You approve?” he asks, watching me far too closely.
I hum in response, setting the cup down on the tray as I survey the spread once more.
“Clearly, you were very concerned about my wellbeing.”
He leans back against the pillows, grinning lazily. “Couldn’t have you starving, could I?”
“Yes, because I was obviously at risk of malnutrition.”
His chuckle is warm, easy. “You never know.”
I pick up a pain au chocolat, eyeing him suspiciously as I take a bite.
His eyes darken immediately, and I freeze.
It’s then that I realise: I moaned.
Just slightly. Just barely.
But by the look on his face, he definitely heard it.
Frederic exhales slowly, his jaw tightening, his gaze flicking from my lips to my throat and back up again.
I swallow quickly, fighting the flush creeping up my neck.
“Anyway,” I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject, “you’ve got a busy day today, right?”
He takes a sip of his own coffee, nodding. “Meetings, interviews, press, team debriefs, track walks, simulator sessions…”
I blink, taken aback. “That’s… a lot.”
“Comes with the job,” he shrugs, appearing completely unbothered.
“Well, I won’t keep you then,” I say, starting to push the sheets back. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
His dark brow lifts slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that.
“No rush,” he says, reaching out casually to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my jaw as he does.
Despite myself, my breath catches at the touch.
The quiet intimacy of it is startling.
“Eat,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing lightly over my cheek before he pulls away. “The world can wait a little longer.”
And just like that, I realise that I am so, so gone for this man.
* * *
The drive back to my hotel is quiet, but my mind is anything but.
I shift in the backseat, my thighs still aching, my body still buzzing from the morning’s events.
Frederic had not let me leave without another round - this time, though, it had been in the shower.
The moment I stepped inside, the hot water cascading over my skin, he’d followed. I barely had time to react before his hands were on me - gripping my hips, pressing me against the cool glass.
"Going somewhere?" he had murmured, his voice deep and teasing as his lips brushed against my damp shoulder.
My hands had pressed against the glass as our bodies molded perfectly together, his wet skin flush with mine.
“I should hurry,” I’d managed, even though we both knew it was a lie.
He’d hummed as his hands skimmed down my sides, tracing over my stomach and hip bones before his palms splayed possessively over my thighs.
"Should you?" he had mused, kissing purposefully up the curve of my neck.
My knees had nearly buckled when he slid a hand between my legs.
“I don’t want to slow you down,” I’d whispered, but he had simply hushed me in response, his voice nothing but velvet and dominance as one hand gripped my throat, tilting my head back against his shoulder.
"Just let me enjoy you a little longer."
I had melted, completely and utterly at his mercy, and what followed was pure, slow-burning torture.