Sleeping With Paris by Juliette Sobanet Read Free Book Online

Disaster
     
    All thoughts of Jeff flew out the window and all that existed was Luc pushing me up against the wall and kissing my neck. Then my mouth. Then my shoulders. His hands were all over me, roaming over my hips, my thighs and my waist. We made our way two feet over from the door to my sorry excuse for a bed which was draped in a cheap, white sheet, and Luc pulled me down on top of him. Within seconds, our shirts were off, and even in our drunken state, we both knew where this was headed.
    But then, as soon as it had begun, it was over. Luc sat up all of a sudden and looked at me.
    “We cannot do this, Charlotte. You are sad . . . you are drunk. It is not right.”
    I wanted him so badly in that moment. All of this build-up for nothing! All of the tears, all of the crap from Jeff, the trip to Paris, this great night out, and then Luc was going to leave me here alone in this forsaken bed with no covers!
    Luc must’ve noticed the look on my face, and probably out of fear that I would start crying again, he lay back down with me. But then, instead of making some lame excuse to flee the scene like most guys would’ve done after the way I had acted, he wrapped his arms around me, kissed me on the cheek, and stroked my hair.
    His hand was so soothing that within minutes, I passed out like a baby.
     
    ***
     
    I woke up in a cold sweat in pitch darkness and realized that someone else’s sweaty arms were wrapped around my bare chest. Oh dear. What had I done?
    I checked for my pants. Still on. Whew. At least I didn’t sleep with him. I tried to recall the events of the previous night as my head pounded. I remembered drinking wine (clearly I had surpassed my limit), meeting Benoît and Lexi, and then crying. Oh God, that’s right, I had cried in front of Luc. I had cried really, really hard in front of Luc. In public! What a disaster I was becoming.
    The scene of me attacking him at my apartment door flashed through my mind. Well, we’d already covered several major stages of a relationship in one night: seeing each other half-naked in the shower, meeting his friends, crying over a past event, hooking up, and spending the night together. I just couldn’t believe he was still here. I was certain I wouldn’t be hearing from him after he woke up and bolted back to his room.
    I tried to fall back asleep, not wanting to wake Luc after the night I had put him through, but my head was pounding something fierce. I wondered what time it was. I needed to take something for this headache and put a shirt on. I lifted Luc’s arm up off of my chest, set it ever so gently on the bed and tried to climb over him without bumping him or making any noise. I successfully took a couple of steps until, a few feet from the bed, I tripped over my gargantuan suitcase. Damn.
    Luc began to stir. “What time is it?” he groaned. I found my watch on the nightstand. It was only five a.m.
    “It’s early. Sorry to wake you . . . I have a headache.”
    “Are you okay?” he asked. Jeez, does this guy ever stop being nice?
    “Yes, yes, go back to sleep. I’m fine,” I murmured as I groped around in the darkness for my bra, a t-shirt, anything.
    Luc got up, put his shirt on, and walked over to me just as I managed to find my tank top from last night curled up in a ball on the floor.
    “I think I should go to my bed now to sleep,” he said as he let out a big yawn.
    Good idea . “Thank you for everything last night. Go get some sleep, okay?” I urged as I threw on my tank top.
    Luc gave me a kiss on the cheek and left. I fumbled to turn the light on and grimaced from the brightness. I quickly found my trusty bottle of Aleve buried in my purse, took one for my splitting headache, and switched the light back off. I lay back down on my bed and cringed again as I thought about how I’d behaved the night before.
    What was wrong with me?
     I remembered then that it was only eleven p.m. in DC. I needed to talk to someone from home—someone who