When James let go of her hand he reached for their coffees. “Do you want to ruin this perfect espresso with sugar?”

“Yes, please.” Mila needed a bit of a rush which didn’t include James’s body next to hers, or his hands and fingers, which reminded her of that morning.

James spooned some sugar into her black espresso and stirred it. “Here you go. Butter bomb?” he asked as he shifted the plate with pastries closer to her.

“If I have to.” She licked her lips, her mouth watering just looking at the picture-perfect pastries. Her mind could list a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t, health-conscious as she’d been forced to be. But this… she wasn’t going to resist.

He smiled at her. “You have to. You’re in Paris.”

Caving in, Mila took a bite with a soft moan. “They’re sinful.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at her, but he said nothing as he ate his own. When he tossed his coffee back and put the cup down, he looked at her, serious now. “What do you want for your life, Mila?”

She blinked. As if anybody had ever cared. “I want to see the world, and not only from its rugby stadiums.”

“There’svmuch more to it, I agree.”

“I want to find my niche in art. I’ve been floundering lately. I need some visual… inspiration, to find my way back to what I love doing.”

“And this is why you are in Paris?”

“Thevprimary reason.”

He hitched his eyebrows. “I see.” A smile sparkled in his eyes. “You want to elaborate on the secondary… and tertiary reasons?”

Heat shot to her cheeks. How did he know? Stacey’s freaking to-do list with losing her virginity the first thing on said list. “Already accomplished.”

He leaned into her, the warmth of his body enveloping hers, making her clench her legs together, overly aware of their thighs that had been rubbing against each other for the past half hour. His lips were at her ear, grazing softly from the top to the soft bud of her earlobe. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

The sensation of his intimate whisper shot to her core, making her innards pool.

“Don’t go there,” she murmured. She wanted to sink and hide under the table.

Did he think that she’d used him? Had she? The thought was too much, overridden by that very familiar tingling inside her lower belly. There was a buzz in her body that demanded attention—his attention—as a memory or two of that morning flitted in her mind’s eye. There was only one way to switch this feeling off.

By giving in to it.

Oh no no no. She shifted in her chair, breaking the connection between their thighs.

He laughed and leaned back, his hands cupped behind his head. Totally relaxed, his gaze rested on her—soft, but containing something she couldn’t place.

I’ve always been drawn to the magical escape of books and the journeys they take us on without leaving the comfort of home. I’ve been fortunate to have traveled to France, and this book was inspired by a visit to Paris some years ago. We were walking in some narrow alley in the 1st arrondissement of Paris, when I noticed a door with a single plaque with Club Privé written on it. My imagination got going, and at some point, things got pretty wild. I’ve wanted to write for a long time, but life had plans of its own. I’m grateful to finally have time to write, and love writing contemporary and erotic romance in far-flung settings. Taking readers on a journey of their own with my books is part of the plot. Bon voyage!