BLURB An admissions department snafu at Manhattan's prestigious Juilliard School for the Arts, pairs a lovely African American girl in the same dorm room with a blond blue eyed Frenchman, both ballet students. Maybe it's karma, but sparks of frustration turn into the heat of attraction and within the week the pair are involved in an interracial romance with plenty of explicit sex. But just when things start really heating up, cruel fate steps in at Christmas vacation, when, after a second snafu, the lovebirds are separated by an ocean of despair-the Atlantic Ocean.

EXCERPTWhen we got back to our room, Rene headed to one of the baths we'd be sharing with three other students, while I simply threw on a nightshirt and hopped in bed. I just lay there and reflected on what had Tami said. I'd naively thought I had my future at Juilliard mapped out. Rene would be my roommate and best friend for this year. For the next three years since the dorms were mostly for freshmen, I figured we could share an inexpensive two bedroom, New York flat. I wasn't naive, I knew those seven words--an inexpensive two bedroom, New York flat--created an oxymoron, but I'm an optimist.

In the middle of my contemplation, Rene returned. His hair, now darkened and damp, hung uncombed, but that wasn't what caught my attention. The only thing that kept him from standing naked before me was a white towel wrapped around and tucked in his waist.

He smiled. "Turn your head, ma chere, while I put my pajamas bottoms on."

I did, but I sneaked a peek. My mouth watered as he turned his backside to me and dropped the towel. His broad shoulders and muscular chest veed into a narrow waist and ultra-sexy taut buns and that wasn't all. One at a time, he lifted a foot into each pajama leg, his shoulder muscles rippling, but before he pulled them up into place, every ounce of oxygen in my lungs exhaled and my pussy muscles clenched. From betwixt his muscular legs, the underside of his sex, the tip of his penis and his pinkish mauve scrotum, beckoned to me and I couldn't catch my breath. Finally when I thought I would pass out from oxygen deprivation, I gasped a breath of life.

Rene swung around, concern etched on his beautiful face. "Are you all right?"

My eyelids rose and I gasped again as blood rushed to my clit and pussy. His long, thick male member dangled from the opening in his pajamas.He looked down and quickly inserted himself. "Sorry," he uttered, but the damage had been done. The damage, of course, was to my idyllic concept of how we could be platonic friends and roommates for the next four years.

"Girl, you're going to be the horniest dancer in Juilliard. And what about him? Is he supposed to go without for four years?" What Tami had been trying to tell me slammed into my mind like a head on collision. Why hadn't this been a problem last night? Because, you idiot, you both fell asleep in your clothes after talking half the night.He smiled.

"Are you going to sleep?"

"If I can."

"Would it bother you if I did some things on my computer?"

Apparently on the way to losing my mind, I blurted out, "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so God damned good looking," and rolled over to face the wall.

"What?"

My head turned back part way.

"Never mind, forget I said that.

"The mattress sank behind me and then a tender stroke brushed my arm. "No, mon amour, what is bothering you?"

I turned back over onto my back and raised up on my elbows. "I'm sorry, I'm so mixed up right now, it's driving me crazy."

French Kiss: A BWWM Story - häftad, Engelska, 2019