Ashley would have done anything to keep him there in her loft for the night, but once again, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled away.

“Why can’t you stay?” she asked before he had a chance to get up from the sofa.

He kissed her again quickly. “I’ll try to come back tomorrow night,” he said, pulling her up with him.

“I…won’t be here.”

His eyebrows shot up, then he smiled. “Right.”

“No, I…”

His phone buzzed again, and he cursed under his breath.

“Gotta go,” he said, heading towards the stairs.

“Cole, I have an art showing to go to tomorrow night,” she called out.

He waved goodbye as he climbed the stairs. It was then that she thought about her painting and raced up the stairs after him.

She stepped out onto the patio, surprised that it was empty.

She spun around, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. She looked for a way off the rooftop patio and couldn’t find any.

“Yup, totally a spy,” she said softly.

She thought she heard a chuckle floating in the wind.

“Bring back my painting,” she called out to the night. There was no reply.

Stomping her foot lightly, she marched inside and locked the door behind her. She picked out another canvas and got to work again.

This time, she didn’t stop painting until the sun was up. She had six canvases drying that she was proud of.

She’d never done anything like them before. The style was something she’d dreamed of once, years ago when Cole had first kissed her. But she’d listened to her art teachers and critics and had drowned out her own artistic desires, which didn’t fit the mold.

Now, however, she’d listened to Cole and had just let go. Each piece she did was better than the one before.

The colors alone caused her to smile as she stretched her fingers out and rolled her shoulders. Glancing down at her watch, she groaned. She had just enough time to shower, dress, and grab a sandwich on the run.

By the time she walked into class, she was exhausted. The weather had turned nasty again and there was talk of snow before nightfall.

Even though she’d layered on warm clothes, she was frozen to the bone as she tried to focus when the teacher lectured about the artists that most of the class wished to mimic. The sound was a dull hum in her mind.

“You don’t look so good,” Niccolo said after class was over.

“I don’t feel so good,” she replied.

“Are you going to be up for the gallery tonight?” he asked, leaning on her desk.

“It’s more than a quarter of our grade,” she replied.

“Right.” Niccolo looked towards the teacher, then back at her. “Still, Monsieur Bernard would understand. You are by far the most talented one in class and all he’d have to do is take one look at you.” He shook his head slightly.

“That bad?” She groaned.

“That bad. Go home, rest.” He tapped her table, then left.

She stood up and almost blacked out.

“Ashley?” Monsieur Bernard looked like he was more than a hundred. She was pretty sure that she’d heard his bones rattle once when he’d walked by her.

“Monsieur Bernard, I don’t think I’m up to—”

“No, quite right,” he agreed as his eyes ran over her, his accent thick. “Go, you can make up the lost points.” He waved her away.

She nodded and quickly retreated.

Halfway home, she stopped in one of her favorite shops and ordered soup to go.

By the time she walked into her building, her hair was soaking wet from the falling snow and her feet were frozen.

She was shaking and shivering so much that it was almost impossible to unlock her door. When she finally got in, she leaned against the door, breathless.

Stripping her clothes off, she dumped everything at the doorway and moved into the bathroom. Turning on the water in the tub, she shivered as she waited for the water to heat and fill the massive claw-footed tub.

When the water was warm enough, she climbed in and groaned as she began to regain feeling in her fingers and toes.

Laying back, she stared at the painting of a classically dressed woman that hung at the end of the tub.

During the past six months, she’d come to know every detail about the painting. At one point, she’d searched for information about the artist, but had come up with little other than he’d lived in Paris during the early eighteen hundreds.

The woman was beautiful. She wore a long flowing white gown that appeared to be floating. Ashley had believed at first that it was floating because she was underwater, but after a few weeks of study, she realized that the woman was actually falling backwards, as if taking a dive off a cliff.

The woman had a peaceful look on her face, and most of the time, Ashley felt she looked down at her approvingly. Tonight, however, Ashley believed the woman stared down at judgmentally as she shivered and tried to get warm.

“Oh, shut up.” She groaned, and leaned back again.

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” a deep voice said from the bathroom doorway.

Ashley screamed and covered herself as best as she could. Water splashed over the edge of the tub, and she lost her hold on the side of the tub and slipped under the water, soaking her hair and face further.

“Get out!” she screamed when she resurfaced. Her hands still covered as much as she could. She was thankful she’d thrown in some bubbles, but at this point, they were pretty much all gone.

She heard another chuckle, then the bathroom door clicked shut.

Since there was now soap in her eyes, she wasn’t sure if he was on the outside of that door or the inside.

Blinking a few times, she finally confirmed she was alone. Since the water had turned lukewarm, she quickly jumped out, wrapped herself in her thick robe, and dried her hair as much as possible.

It had grown so much longer in the past few months. She hadn’t been excited about finding a stylist in Paris and had just let it go wild. Tucking the long tresses up in a clip on top of her head, she looked at herself in the mirror and groaned.

She looked sick. Slapping on some base to cover the pale look of her skin, she made sure to brush her teeth before heading out.

Cole was relaxing on her sofa, as if he belonged there. More candles were lit and there was another dinner of soup and cheesy noodles on the table.

“Is this going to become a thing?” she asked, wishing she’d had time to put some thick socks on her feet.

For the most part, the chill had subsided, but parts of her were still too cold.

He watched her as she moved further into the room, then he stood quickly.

“You’re sick.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Why, yes, I’m fine thank you,” she said sarcastically as she moved over to begin making some tea.

He spun her around, and his eyes narrowed as he ran them over her face.

“Have you taken anything?”

“A hot bath, which was interrupted,” she added dryly.

His hands were still on her shoulders and she held in a groan as he started massaging them lightly.

“You’re all tense,” he said softly.

“Yeah, someone just barged in on me.” She rolled her shoulders under his hands.

“I don’t barge,” he said, continuing his massage.

“No, you sneak around and lurk in the shadows.” She closed her eyes and felt her entire body relaxing. Then the tea kettle whistled behind her, and Cole’s hands dropped away.

“Go sit down, I’ll get this for you. The soup and food will help. Do you have aspirin?”

“Top shelf.” She pointed to the place and sat down at the table.

The soup was still steaming, and she didn’t wait for him before taking a sip. The warmth instantly spread throughout her, causing her to relax even more.

“Here.” He handed her two pills and her tea before sitting across from her.

“Are you going to steal another painting and run off?” she asked.

His eyebrows shot up. “You must be feeling better.” He smiled as her eyes narrowed.

“Why do you run off each night?” she asked, taking a bite of the cheesy ravioli.

“Work,” he answered quickly.

“Are you working tonight?” she asked.

He looked over his mug at her. “Not unless they call.”

“Who’s they?” she asked, taking another bite. She was starting to feel better.

“What happened to your thing tonight?” he asked, instead of answering.

“I’m sick,” she replied, knowing he wasn’t going to answer her question. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“What?”

“This.” She motioned towards him. “Not letting anyone in?”

“You’re in.”

She felt like laughing, but stopped herself when she realized he was serious.

“You’ve changed.” She sighed, missing the old Cole.

“So, have you,” he replied easily, his eyes going over her slowly.

“Not that much.” She felt a little self-conscious that he was seeing her at her worst.

“Neither have I.” This time it was her eyes that ran over him. He’d changed so much that she was surprised she’d recognized him at the Louvre. His smile and eyes were the same, but he had new muscles, and he appeared taller and more sure of himself. He also had a dangerous and mysterious appeal to him.

Whereas the high school boy had been sexy, the Cole that sat in front of her was sexy as hell.

---

Cole sat silently and watched as Ashley assessed him.

He could see some of the color return to her cheeks and knew that the warm food was helping her.

She had said she wouldn’t be home that evening, but when he’d seen her light on, he’d grabbed food down the street for them.

When he’d found her clothes thrown just inside the doorway, his first thought was that she had a lover. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking to make sure.

He had enjoyed eating with her each night and wanted his last night in Paris to last as long as it could.

When he’d found her in the tub, he’d frozen in place as he watched. His eyes had taken in every curve, every peak. He’d been so lost in her, that when she spoke, he’d believed she was talking to him.

Seeing her now, he wondered how he’d gone so long without her and how he was expected to go back to his life while she remained in Paris.

“You’ve changed.” It came out as a whisper as she finished her meal.

He’d learned over the past year and half to eat as quickly as he could, since he wasn’t sure when he’d be forced to move.

“You’ve started painting again.” He’d seen the stacks of new paintings that she had drying above.

“Yes.” She smiled. “You were right.”

He smiled. “I usually am.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned back.

“Can I see them?” he asked, taking their plates to the sink as she watched him carefully.

“Sure.” She glanced down at her robe. “Let me change first.”

“I like the way you are now.” He pulled her up and straight into his arms. “This way, there’s less to remove when I want to touch you later.”

He felt her breath hitch, felt her body heat, and decided then and there that he’d ignore the buzzing of his phone if it came to it.

“Cole,” she whispered, before reaching up on her toes and placing her lips over his.

“You do things to me,” he said between kisses as he walked her backwards towards the sofa. “You make me forget time and place.” He pulled her down on top of him on the soft cushions. “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life, here on this sofa with you.” His hands pushed the thick cotton of her robe aside as her nails dug into his hair, holding him to her as he trailed kisses down her neckline.

“Cole,” she cried out when he found her, hot, wet, only for him.

“That’s it, let go,” he growled next to her heated skin. “My god, lose yourself in me,” he begged as he took her higher. Her body responded and purred as he played over her softness.

He thought he’d had what he wanted, but after a moment of hearing her pleas, he had to have more.

Easily switching their positions, he pinned her to the cushions, ripped open the robe the rest of the way, and stared down at the milky white skin he’d exposed.

“Wow.” His eyes took in everything about her again. This time, there wasn’t soapy water hindering his view. “So beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in and ran his mouth over her skin. She tasted so sweet, so warm, so soft. He had to concentrate not to go too fast, not to leave marks from his unshaven face on that perfect skin of hers.

When he nudged her legs wider, her hands returned to his hair, holding him, guiding him. As his tongue darted across her sweet folds, he heard her gasp and jerk under him.

His hands tightened on her thighs, holding, coaxing, until she relaxed and started moving slowly under him. He felt her building and knew that he had to take what he could, what she’d give him, now, before it was too late, and he had to disappear again.

“Cole, please,” she begged, while trying to pull him up to her.

Pulling the condom out of a small pocket in his black pants, he freed then sheathed himself.

“Your shirt,” she said, breathing heavily. “Remove it.” It came out almost as a growl.

He smiled and tossed the black shirt onto the floor with her discarded robe. When he moved back over her, her legs wrapped around his hips.

“Tell me to go to hell,” he whispered between kisses.

“No,” she gasped and tried to pull him closer. “I want this, want you.”

“Then be damned with me,” he said before jerking his hips and filling her.