French kiss Read Online Free PDF

perfect, isn't it? Holly thought, settling back in her seat for the long flight. Just perfect.
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    chapter three
    Paris in the springtime
    Taking a deep breath, Alexa opened the French doors and tiptoed out onto the balcony of the hotel. Though she wore only a lace cami and Juicy boy shorts, Alexa didn't shiver in the misty afternoon chill. Instead, she rested her hands on the damp, wrought-iron railing and gazed down, beaming, at the tree-lined boulevard St-Germain.
    Petite, slender women filmy silk scarves knotted around their necks and fluffy Pomeranians peeking out of their Chanel totes click-clacked along the rain-slick sidewalk in sky-high stilettos. An old man with a baguette under his arm pedaled past, his red bicycle a splash of color against the gray afternoon. In front of the Sonia Rykiel boutique, a teenage couple was making out, staying pressed together even when a
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    fleet of guys on sleek mopeds zoomed noisily up the boulevard. Fragments of French phrases -- "Mais non!" "Ça va, chérie?... " -- floated up to Alexa, along with the rich scent of fresh bread from a nearby café.
    Alexa's heart soared. She was home.
    "Baby, could you come inside? It's freezing."
    Oh, yeah. Reluctantly, Alexa turned away from the marvelous view and peered into the dimly lit hotel room behind her. She'd been so caught up in her rapturous return to Paris, she'd oops -- kind of forgotten about Diego.
    He was sitting up in the rumpled bed, wearing his boxers and rubbing his eyes with his fists like a little boy. Alexa melted at the adorable sight. Her boyfriend had been so jet-lagged after their grueling overnight, flight that he'd crashed as soon as they'd arrived at the hotel that morning. Alexa had curled up beside him for a bit, but it had been impossible to sleep, knowing all the fabulousness that was waiting right outside their window.
    Alexa cast one last glance at the kissing couple below. They'd separated and were now arguing loudly, the boy gesturing with his cigarette and the girl sobbing. So French, Alexa thought with a smile, slipping back inside. She shut the doors, drew the heavy drapes, and started toward the bed, passing the minibar, the flat-screen TV, and the luggage she'd dropped in front
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    of the gleaming armoire. Theirs wasn't so much a double bed, Alexa noticed as she flopped down beside Diego, as two twin beds pushed together, with the narrowest of gaps between them -- a typical, if bizarre, feature of European hotel rooms.
    Which was pretty much the only thing Euro about this place, Alexa mused as she stretched out on the crisp white sheets. The Hotel Rive Gauche, where Diego had booked them for the next three days, was super-posh, very modern, and, in Alexa's opinion, utterly bland. She couldn't wait until Tuesday, when they'd relocate to her cousins' small, shabby-chic apartment. Alexa vividly remembered the charming place from her last visit two years ago: the yellow shutters, the claw-footed bathtub, the slanting floors. That, to Alexa, was the true Paris -- old-fashioned, artsy, bohemian....
    But, still, it was pretty yummy to be all alone in a luxe hotel room with her boyfriend.
    Alexa propped herself on one elbow to study Diego, who was lying on his back once more and holding a pillow over his face. His smooth, caramel-colored chest rose and fell steadily.
    "Don't go to sleep again, lazy," Alexa murmured, yanking on the edge of his pillow.
    "Cut it out," Diego muttered, his voice muffled. "I'm really tired."
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    "Boo-hoo," Alexa teased. She'd noticed that traveling overseas had somehow turned the usually suave, mega-mature Diego Mendieta into a nine-year-old. Feeling mischievous, Alexa slid over to Diego's side of the bed and tickled her boyfriend along his ribs, down his flat stomach, and over to the waistband of his boxers. Finally, Diego started laughing. He lifted the pillow off his face and hurled it right at Alexa. She shrieked and grabbed her own pillow, mashing it in Diego's face until he