Winnie Takes Paris – Love and Travel Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Lane Hayes Advertisement1

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“Uh…no,” I replied distractedly. “Listen, Winnie, while I appreciate your inventive thinking, intimate exchanges are⁠—”

“Kissing is the French equivalent of a handshake,” he intercepted. “I read it in Vogue, and it totally makes sense. If you ask me, kissing gets way too much credit. It isn’t a marriage proposal, you know. But it is a skill you want to hone, to be sure. You let those skizzles go flat, and poof! There goes your confidence. So, pucker up, buttercup. Let’s do this.”

Winnie scooted into my space, closed his eyes and presented his gorgeous mouth to me like a gift. There was only one logical, appropriate response here and it involved a simple “No, thank you” and a gentle reminder that kissing an employee, regardless of the length of their tenure or whatever country you happened to be in at the moment, was never a good idea.

But my God, his eyelashes were impossibly long, his cheeks were flush from the cool breeze off the river, and his mouth was a thing of beauty. His lips looked plump and pillowy and so inviting. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn there was a magnet, drawing me toward him.

I leaned in, inch by inch, until our noses brushed. I should have pulled away then, but gravity had me in a chokehold. I couldn’t stop my momentum.

The next thing I knew, my lips were pressed to Winnie’s and the sky erupted with fireworks as a choir of angels sang from the heavens.

Dramatic? Yes, perhaps, but accurate.

When he molded his mouth against mine, angling his chin and parting his lips, I had to wrap a hand around his shoulder to stay vertical. He tasted like cherries and mint and felt like lava in my arms. He was the sun, and I was in danger of combusting. But I couldn’t let go. Not yet.

I licked the seam of his lips, and oh so tentatively pushed inside. Winnie gasped, his low moan of approval vibrating deep in my chest as he took over, threading his fingers in my hair as he glided his tongue alongside mine.

We carried on like teenagers in a never-ending lip-lock till oxygen deprivation became a cause for concern.

Winnie nipped my jaw and straightened, his drowsy gaze fixed on my mouth for a beat before finally meeting my eyes.

I waited for him to break the silence. Nothing.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Winnie blinked as if coming out of a fog. “Yes. Wow, yes, yes. I’m…very good. Fuck me, Professor. You are a man of many talents. Including kissing. Why didn’t you tell me you’re an expert?”

“Uh…because I’m not. I told you I’m⁠—”

“Out of practice. I remember.” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and exhaled theatrically. “Well, like I said, I think it’s a good idea to keep your skills up, so if you want to do that again…I’m cool with it.”

Yes, I was also very, very cool with it.

I pushed my hands into my pockets. “It’s getting cold. We should go.”

We wordlessly headed north along the cobblestone path, making way for faster moving pedestrians. Somewhere in the melee of lackadaisical tourists and Parisians hurrying home for the day, Winnie hooked his arm through mine. Along the Quai de la Mégisserie, past Pont des Arts, across the street to the Louvre…he stayed glued to my side.

We said our good-byes in the hallway outside of my suite.

There was no talk of future plans or of work that had been left undone. And there was definitely no mention of the kiss. Good thing, as I didn’t trust myself to speak while my lips were still tingling and my heart was hammering in my chest.

I was sure I’d feel more like myself as soon as I sat at my desk and fell into a rabbit hole in the Middle Kingdom, circa 1938 BC.

I turned on the light and cast my gaze around my room, noting that the reams of paperwork and the laptop I’d left open were untouched, but the wreckage of biscuit wrappers and tea cups had been cleared away by housekeeping. It looked nice, I mused, shrugging off my jacket.

At the last second, I remembered my phone and rescued it from my pocket.

A new text from Gerard popped up on my screen.

Sorry I missed you today. Quel dommage. I could meet early for breakfast if that is possible.

I waited for the usual wave of panic to hit in the form of a choking sensation followed by palpitations or a case of the sweats. Perhaps that was a gross overreaction, but I didn’t do well with personal strife.

Deleting Gerard’s number, ignoring his texts, and canceling him from my life would have been professional suicide. As I’d told Winnie, I needed Gerard’s field expertise, and he needed my historical insight.

It was too bad he’d seduced my boyfriend and apologized as if he’d accidentally run over my post box. It was too bad he was ridiculously attractive and interesting and French, and it had been a shame Colin thought so too. C’est la vie. That was ancient history and as my therapist had said, their choices weren’t a reflection of my worth—my work was. Well, she didn’t say that last part, but work cleared the cobwebs.


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