But he didn’t know how to give voice to that without causing more hurt. So he bottled it up. He tried to contain all that he felt for her in a small space so that it was manageable, so that it never could slither out and wound her.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, even though her words both scared him and thrilled him.

He took the easy way out. He brushed his lips softly against her cheek. Then kissed her neck. Then her ear.

“I can’t ever get enough of you,” he said, whispering words that were wholly inadequate. But when he returned to her mouth, he hoped she knew in the soft press of his lips all the things he couldn’t say. He hoped that this—the physical—would be enough to assure her.

But he knew deep down it would never be sufficient. Not for a woman like her. Not for anyone who felt the way she did.

As the sun peeked through the windows early the next morning, she stretched in bed, reaching her arms over her head, then casting her gaze at him. He was gorgeous next to her, still sound asleep on his side, breathing the slow rhythmic breath of a deep sleeper. She was tempted to run a hand down his bare arm, his muscles so strong. Then to his trim waist, his hips exposed above the sheets.

But she turned away, slid out of bed, and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

She was safer by herself.

Perhaps Paris had been a bad idea.

Maybe they should have gotten separate rooms. Because here she was, exactly where she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to share a bed, a night, a morning with someone who didn’t feel the same.

The night before had been magic; it had been stitched from a dream—the rain, the doorway, the perfume bottles. Him. All the things he’d said until that moment. She was sure he’d felt the same.

But then, she hadn’t said she was falling in love with him to get it in return.

She’d said it because it was unequivocally true. Because it was impossible to keep it inside her any longer. She’d held back with him for so long. She’d been so protective, erected arbitrary boundaries to seal herself off from falling. She’d tried valiantly to keep him at arm’s length, but he’d been so insistent, burrowing his way into her life, her heart, and her head. Such a passionate man, and such a caring one, too. He was the ultimate lover, that sinful mouth and smoldering body a staggering combination. There was so much more, too. His tender side; his funny side; his warmth. She was willing to bet he relished the appearance of Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected, but beneath that veneer he was passionate and fiery, dirty and loving, and, unexpectedly, he was needy. In exactly the way she wanted him to be. He needed her.