Julien opened the car door wider, allowing Camille a clearer view of Amelie's sleeping form sprawled across the backseat. Amélie lay on her side, her chestnut hair fanned out around her like a silken halo. Her face was a picture of drunken serenity, her features soft and relaxed.
Camille's eyes widened as she took in the sight of her friend, a mix of concern and amusement playing across her beautiful face. She leaned into the car, gently brushing a few errant strands of hair from Amélie's face, her touch soft and tender. "Mon dieu, she's out like a light," Camille murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "I've never seen her this drunk before. You must have quite the effect on her, Monsieur Deneuve."
Julien cleared his throat, a slight flush coloring his cheeks at the implication in Camille's tone. "I suppose I may have indulged her a bit too much," he admitted, a note of sheepishness entering his deep voice. "I didn't realize she had such a low tolerance for alcohol."
Camille straightened up, turning to face Julien with a wry smile. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. Amélie has a habit of getting carried away, especially when she's... excited." She let the last word hang in the air, a hint of unspoken meaning behind it.
Julien glanced at his watch, a look of impatience flashing across his handsome features. "I'd hate to keep you out here in the middle of the night, Mademoiselle Auclair," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Why don't you sit with Amélie in the car while I drive you both to her apartment? I promise to have you there in no time." He gestured to the open car door, a silent invitation for Camille to join her friend.
Camille chuckled softly as she climbed into the car, her lithe, toned legs stretching out in front of her as she settled into the seat beside Amélie. She glanced over at her friend, a look of fond exasperation on her beautiful face as she took in Amélie's drunken slumber.
"Such a kind and thoughtful man you are, Monsieur Deneuve," Camille remarked, a warm smile playing at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips. "It's rare to find someone so concerned for my friend's wellbeing, along with mine."
As Julien began to close the car door, Camille leaned forward, her chestnut hair brushing against his arm. She paused, her hazel eyes widening slightly as they fell upon a glaring lipstick mark on the side of Julien's neck. A slow, wicked smile spread across her beautiful face.
"My, my, Monsieur Deneuve," Camille purred, her voice a low, sultry murmur. She leaned in closer, her lips nearly brushing against Julien's ear as she whispered, "It seems Amélie was quite... excited tonight. That lipstick mark is rather hard to miss."
Camille's nail, painted a shade of blue, grazed lightly over the lipstick stain, tracing the shape of the imprint left by Amélie's eager mouth. She glanced up at Julien through her dark lashes, a look of knowing amusement and a hint of something more heated glinting in her eyes.
Camille's gaze raked over Julien's handsome face, taking in the slight flush that colored his cheeks and the look of discomfort that flickered in his dark eyes. "I must say, I'm impressed," she continued, a hint of admiration coloring her tone. "It takes a real man to handle Amélie when she's in one of her... passionate moods. I'm glad to see you rose to the occasion." Camille's voice dripped with unspoken meaning, a knowing smirk playing at her lips as she settled back into her seat.
Julien stood rooted to the spot for a moment, Camille's playful tap on his stomach and her knowing smirk sending a jolt of electricity through his body, as she slowly shut the car door. He cleared his throat, a slight flush deepening on his chiseled cheeks as he processed her words and the implication behind them.
As he made his way to the driver's seat, Julien's mind raced, trying to recall exactly how that lipstick mark had ended up on his neck. He and Amélie had shared a charged, electric connection throughout the night, but they hadn't kissed... had they?
Suddenly, the memory came flooding back to him, as clear as day. When he had been carrying Amélie to the car, her lithe, curvy body pressed against his muscular chest, she had mumbled something incoherently, her drunken words slurring together in a sweet, intoxicated babble. In that moment, her soft, glossy lips had brushed against his neck, the fleeting contact sending a shiver of desire down his spine.
Julien's hand came up to touch the spot on his neck where the lipstick mark had been left, his fingers grazing over the smooth, slightly sticky surface. "Putain," he muttered under his breath, a rueful smile tugging at his lips as he realized how Amélie's drunken, uncoordinated movements had left such a bold, unmistakable mark on his skin.
Julien slid into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tried to regain his composure. He could feel Camille's eyes on him, could sense her smirk widening as she no doubt imagined all sorts of salacious scenarios that might have led to his newly marked neck.
As he started the car and pulled out onto the quiet Parisian street, Julien shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "Putain de merde," he muttered under his breath, "what a night. And it's not over yet." He glanced in the rearview mirror, his gaze falling on the two women in the backseat - one passed out drunk, the other smirking knowingly.
Julien glanced into the rearview mirror, his dark eyes flickering over to where Camille and Amélie sat in the backseat. He cleared his throat, a slight rasp to his deep voice as he asked, "Est-ce que vous êtes bien installées, Mademoiselle Auclair? Are you comfortable back there?"
Camille looked up, a warm, catlike smile playing at the corners of her lips. She had her arm wrapped around Amélie's shoulders, holding her friend close as she rested Amelie's head on her shoulder. Amélie's chestnut hair was splayed out across Camille's chest, the silken strands tickling her skin.
"Très confortable, merci d'être si prévenant, Monsieur Deneuve," Camille purred, a hint of amusement and something more heated underlying her tone. "I can't be any more at ease, especially with this sweet, drunken weight resting so trustingly on me." She gazed down at Amélie, a look of fond affection softening her beautiful features.
Julien's gaze drifted over the intimate scene, taking in the way Camille's slender fingers absently stroked Amélie's arm, the way Amélie's hand rested on Camille's thigh, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of Camille's dress. The air in the car felt charged, electric, heavy with a tension that made the hairs on the back of Julien's neck stand on end.
Camille's hazel eyes met Julien's in the mirror, a glimmer of mischief and a hint of challenge flashing in their depths. "I must say, Monsieur Deneuve," she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr, "you've certainly left quite the impression on my dear Amelie tonight. I've never seen her so... out of control with someone before."
Julien chuckled softly, a deep, warm sound that rumbled through his chest as he met Camille's playful gaze in the rearview mirror. "Vous me flattez, Mademoiselle Auclair," he murmured, a note of self-deprecating humor in his voice. "I'm sure it was the champagne talking, nothing more."
Camille giggled, a melodic, tinkling sound that filled the car, her eyes sparkling with mirth and a hint of something more. "Oh, I think it was more than just the champagne, Monsieur Deneuve," she teased, her fingers absently tracing patterns on Amélie's arm. "You're just too modest to admit it."
Julien smiled, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the road. "In any case, I'll be counting on you to guide me to Amelie's house. I'm afraid I don't know Paris, or even her address, for that matter, as well as I used to."
"Pourquoi, oui, bien sûr," Camille agreed readily, a warm smile playing at her lips. "That's why I came all this way, after all. To make sure my dear friend got home safe and sound." She gazed down at Amélie's peaceful, slumbering face, a look of fond protectiveness softening her expression.
Julien nodded, a note of gratitude entering his deep voice. "Merci, Mademoiselle. I appreciate your help." He paused, a slight frown creasing his brow as he recalled Amélie's drunken antics. "I must confess, I didn't expect the evening to take quite such... unexpected turns."
Camille's lips curved in a knowing smirk, a glint of mischief in her hazel eyes. "Life with Amélie is never dull, Monsieur Deneuve," she murmured, a hint of unspoken meaning behind her words. "You'll find that out soon enough, if you stick around." The air in the car felt charged with a sudden, palpable tension, the unspoken implication hanging heavily between them.
Julien parked his sleek, black sports car in front of an elegant, old Parisian apartment building, the kind with wrought iron balconies and ornate, wooden doors. "Eh bien, c'était un court trajet," he remarked, a note of wry amusement in his deep voice as he turned off the ignition.
"Mais, bien sûr," Camille agreed, a playful smirk playing at her lips. "Why else would Amélie have insisted on walking to your date, if it weren't for the short distance?" She arched one slender brow, a hint of teasing accusation in her tone.
Julien sighed, a rueful sound that spoke of the absurdity of the situation. "C'est vrai, j'aurais dû m'en douter," he admitted, shaking his head. "Nothing about tonight has been exactly... ordinary." He stepped out of the car, his tall, muscular frame unfolding from the seat with an ease that spoke of long-practiced grace.
Rounding the car, Julien opened the back passenger door, offering his hand to Camille with a courtly bow. "Permettez-moi de vous aider, Mademoiselle," he murmured, his dark eyes glinting with a mix of humor and old-fashioned gallantry.
Camille giggled, a sound that seemed to dance in the cool Parisian air. "Long live the gentleman who helps the lady," she teased, placing her slender hand in Julien's much larger one. She allowed him to assist her out of the car, her lithe, toned body unfolding with a fluid grace that made Julien's breath catch slightly in his throat.
Once on her feet, Camille turned to face Amélie's slumbering form, a look of tender concern softening her beautiful features. She leaned into the car, carefully slipping one arm beneath Amélie's knees and the other behind her back, supporting her friend's limp, pliant body with a gentleness that spoke of long familiarity.
Julien watched, a look of admiration and a hint of longing in his dark eyes as he took in the intimate, caring gesture. "Let me help you," he offered, stepping closer to Camille as she struggled slightly with Amélie's weight.
Camille flashed him a grateful smile, her hazel eyes meeting his in the dim light of the car. "Merci, Monsieur Deneuve," she murmured, "but I think I can manage. Just open the door to her apartment for us, s'il vous plaît?" She nodded towards the ornate, wooden door of the building, a look of quiet determination on her lovely face as she cradled Amélie close to her chest.