My first kiss went a little like this...
At ten past eleven, Neil knocked on the door of Gabrielle’s home, a wicker basket hanging from his other hand. It had been years since he’d visited the place he was taking his date, but it seemed a good fit for their first outing together. Gabrielle was surrounded by luxury in her professional life, and likely in her personal life as well. His own world was simpler, but there was a majestic beauty to the place he’d chosen for their picnic. A different kind of luxury.
To say that every piece of clothing Gabrielle owned was scattered over her bed would be an understatement. She hadn’t been on a picnic in ages, and the majority of her wardrobe was divided thusly: work, black tie, and lounge. She owned very few pieces that were casual enough for a picnic, yet chic enough for a date.
A hurried owl to her sister had saved her, and Fleur had sent over a top from her own closet. Gabrielle paired it with some trousers she had lying around and a pair of flat strappy sandals. Trust Fleur to have an outfit for every single occasion.
The knock on the door startled her, and she swore under her breath. Hastily banishing her clothes back to her closet-- she’d organize them later-- she moved out of her bedroom and into the living room, crossing to the front door. Pausing to give her reflection a quick once-over in the mirror, she tossed her hair through her fingers and opened the door with a smile.
“Hello, Gabrielle,” Neil greeted with a grin. “I was beginning to think we’d never be able to coordinate our schedules, but I’m very pleased that’s not the case.”
“Bonjour, Neil,” she replied, her smile turning slightly coy as she held the door open for him. “I am also ‘appy zat we ‘ave worked ze day out. I was afraid you would geeve up.”
Taking her hand lightly, Neil kissed the soft skin just beneath her knuckles. “We barristers are a tenacious lot. Especially when properly enticed.” Gesturing back toward the hall, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“My papa ees a barrister. I know ‘ow you all can be,” Gabrielle said, smile growing when his lips brushed her skin. “Eef you weel let me get my bag, zen I weel be ready.”
Neil released her hand and nodded. “Of course.” He’d selected one of his favorite scenic spots for their picnic and there was nowhere around that she’d particularly need a handbag, but far be it from him to ask a lady to leave her things at home.
Summoning a well-loved leather satchel she’d picked up from a specialty shop off the Rue Montparnasse, Gabrielle slung the bag over her shoulder and gave her date a nod. “Bien. I am ready.”
“Brill,” Neil said with a grin as he reached for her hand. “Hold tight.” With a crack splitting the quiet of the flat, the pair was transported to a grassy field across from the White Cliffs of Dover. Glancing over at his date, he waited for her reaction.
A light breeze tugged at Gabrielle’s hair, pulling a few stray blonde locks across her face as she gazed out at the scenery. The view-- the waves crashing into the white cliffs-- reminded her of the similar scene in Brittany.
“Eet ees beautiful,” she breathed with a smile, glancing over at him. “Where are we?”
His smile grew at the happy expression that turned to him, and Neil gave her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to set up their picnicking spot. “Dover,” he answered as he spread the blanket he’d brought. “The white cliffs have long been a favorite view of mine. It’s even better on a broom, but I wasn’t sure if you were a fan of flying.”
Her nose crinkled at the thought of flying. “Non, I prefer les sports zat are closer to ze ground.”
Settling on the blanket, Neil beckoned to her. “Well then, by all means come and get closer on the ground.”
Setting her purse down on the blanket, Gabrielle gracefully lowered herself next to Neil, settling down on the proffered blanket. A few little wiggles-- stretching and rearranging her legs, shaking out her hair-- and she was finally settled. Giving Neil a smile, she said, "Much prefer to ze flying. Do you agree?"
“Well, I rather enjoy flying, but I must admit that being in the company of a beautiful woman makes being grounded much more palatable.” Popping open the lid of the basket he’d brought, Neil retrieved a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a pair of wine glasses. “Drink?”
Gabrielle’s lips curled in satisfaction at the compliment, unable to stop herself from preening ever so slightly. She knew she was beautiful, and while she didn’t need to hear it said so, what woman didn’t like to have verbal verification of her beauty?
“Bien sûr,” she said with a nod, pleased at his choice of beverage. “You ‘ave brought ze wine. You know ze way to a French woman’s ‘eart.”
Neil chuckled softly, his mouth curling into a cheeky grin. “Had I known it was that easy to win you over, I wouldn’t have spent so many hours worrying my plans were too pedestrian for a woman like you.”
Confusion marred her face as she mulled his words, blonde brows drawn together. “I do not understand,” she said. “What do you mean by ‘pedestrian?’” If she was recalling correctly, that particular word in English referred to a person who was au pied.
“It means dull, uninspired,” he explained. “I’m sure you’re accustomed to much more grand offerings that my little picnic.” Neil wasn’t ashamed of his circumstances. He’d made a good living and a name for himself in the legal world in the short time he’d been practicing. Just the same, Gabrielle was beautiful. She traveled the world and no doubt had scores of admirers who had been even more successful. That was just they way it was.
She gave a dismissive wave. “Bah. I like zis ‘leetle pique-nique,’” she said, crinkling her nose at him as her lips twitched. “But my Eenglish is not good as my sister’s, so I am ‘oping you are not sad about that.”
“We manage to communicate just fine, I think, and it makes us pay closer attention to one another which has its own benefits.” Lifting his glass, he toasted “To taking the time to know each other.”
The thought that she did not mind paying closer attention to him one bit crossed her mind, bringing a coy smile to her lips. She raised her glass and let it clink lightly against his, blue eyes sparkling. “Salut,” she echoed, taking a sip of her wine.
Bringing the glass to his lips, Neil let the flavor roll over his tongue as he watched the beauty across from him. It was a pleasant discovery that Gabrielle met none of the stereotypes attributed to models, aside from the obvious attractiveness, of course. She was neither vapid nor superior, self-absorbed nor shallow from what he’d been able to glean thus far.
“So tell me, how do you usually spend your down time?” he asked.
Her nose crinkled. "I am not 'aving much of ze time when I do not work." A schedule like hers was nearly always booked with shows, shoots, and publicity campaigns. Many people thought being a model was easier; all that was required was the ability to smile and be pretty. But it was a grueling career path. Gabrielle loved it, of course, but it did not leave much time for engagements outside of work.
"But when I do," she said, taking a sip of her wine, "I am liking to spend time in Paris with my friends, or eef I am in England, with my sister and 'er family. She 'as two petit enfants, Claire et Tristian."
“My older sister has two children, too,” Neil said, smiling as he thought of his niece and nephew. “Paige is two and Nicholas is four months. I haven’t had much time to see them recently, but I get over as often as I can.”
“And you ‘ave only one sister? And Graham, bien sûr, with ‘is ballerina friend?”
With a shake of his head, he replied, “No, there are four of us. Rowan is the eldest and she’s married to a Muggle detective. Then there’s me and Graham. His ballerina is Lola Branstone, a tiny woman with a penchant for beating my brother senseless. Not that he has much to start. Bryn is the youngest. She’s at university.”
“Ees she studying ze law like you?” Gabrielle asked, cocking her head to the side in a quizzical gesture. “Or per’aps politics like your brother?” She had never felt the inclination to attend university after finishing Beauxbatons; non, she had had quite enough schooling to last her a lifetime. For her, school had been more of a social experience rather than an academic one.
“I don’t think she’s picked a firm direction yet. She’s just getting her basics in right now and seeing what her options are.” Neil’s smile turned crooked as he talked about his bright-eyed baby sister. “I don’t think Brynny’s going to end up taking after me though. She won’t want to do anything where she has to be serious all the time.”
“Ah bon? And are you serious all of ze time?” she asked, her smile turning flirtatious. “Are you being serious at ze moment?”
Neil leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Well, not all the time. You won’t tell anyone though, will you? I’m supposed to be a Very Serious Barrister.”
“And eef I am telling, what weel you do to me?” she replied, leaning slightly towards him. Her blue eyes flashed beneath long blonde lashes, and the slightest hint of white teeth shone through her coy smile.
“I’d have no choice but to lock you away in my dungeon,” he told her ominously, though the smile hadn’t left his face. “How else could I keep my secret?”
“But eef you lock me away, zen ze world will not be able to see my beauty.” For Gabrielle, that would be most a grievous sin. “Per’aps, I am theenking you are not zat cruel to do zat, non?”
“Well,” he replied thoughtfully, “the world might not be able to, but I would be able to enjoy your loveliness whenever I wanted to, wouldn’t I?” He was glad that despite their language barriers Gabrielle seemed to know he was only teasing. It would be very bad for his career to be arrested as a stalker.
Taking a sip of her wine, Gabrielle pretended to think for a moment. “For zat,” she said slowly, glancing towards him with bright eyes, “you ‘ave only need ask, monsieur.”
“Is that all?” Tipping his head to one side, Neil reached out and took her hand in his. “And what if I asked for a kiss? Would I be as successful with that request?”
“I am not knowing,” Gabrielle replied coquettishly, “but I do theenk per’aps you should take a chance and find out. Or ees ze risk not worth ze reward?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” With that he twined his fingers into Gabrielle’s long blonde hair and bent to capture her lips. As it turned out, the reward was well worth the risk.
Sighing against his lips, Gabrielle shifted onto her knees, leaning into the kiss. It would have been a lie to say that she hadn’t been hoping-- nay, expecting-- a kiss, and she was quite pleased Neil seemed to have caught on to her signals. She loved kissing; it was an excellent way to gauge a man’s skills. In her experience, if a man was a competent kisser, then he was most likely a competent lover.
Neil Pritchard was a very competent kisser.
Grasping her hips, Neil tugged her towards him, maneuvering her to straddle his lap. He was not usually one to push for physicality so quickly, that was more his brother’s area, but Gabrielle felt good pressed tightly against his body and Neil couldn’t quite convince himself of a reason not to enjoy the feeling while he could.
Manicured nails raked against the back of his neck, tangling in the short strands of his hair. His body was hard and warm against hers, and Gabrielle couldn’t help a little roll of her hips as she pressed closer to him, the tip of her tongue flicking at his.
A low growl escaped him as she rocked and Neil pulled back just far enough to meet the curious blue eyes now trained on him. “How do you say ‘tease’ in French, Miss Delacour?” he asked, returning the action she’d started.
Gabrielle let out a throaty little hum of pleasure, lips curling. “Une allumeuse,” she murmured.
“And are you une allumeuse, Gabrielle?” he asked, nibbling his way down her long, graceful neck.
“Mmm, Je crois que non,” she breathed, tipping her head back. Her free hand grasped at his bicep, fingertips digging into the fabric of his shirt.
Tongue dipping into the soft hollow of her throat, Neil gave a quiet hmmm. “That’s very good to know. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”
She inhaled sharply, a tiny exclamation of breath as she pressed her hips tighter against his. Neil was handsome, charming, and she liked the way he felt against her. She wanted what she wanted, and she saw no need in beating around the bush. “Bien.”
One nighters were not Neil’s style, nor was shagging a girl on the first date, no matter how beautiful she was. Tempting as the possibility was, he wanted to know Gabrielle before undressing her. No doubt his younger brother would think he was an idiot, and maybe he was, but it was a label he could live with. The tricky part was toning down their current encounter without making the lovely woman in his lap feel as if she was being rejected. “For another time,” he murmured, making his way back to her lips. “Today we have a picnic, good wine, a beautiful view, and pleasant company.”
Pulling back from his kiss to fix him with a searching look, Gabrielle paused for a moment. Perhaps she had misread Neil; he did not seem to be like most men she’d dallied with in the past, rushing to get her into bed. And while she had been ready to let him push further, it was a welcome change.
“D’accord,” she said finally, leaning in to kiss him again as she murmured, “another time.”
Summary: Neil and Gabrielle go on their first date.
To say that every piece of clothing Gabrielle owned was scattered over her bed would be an understatement. She hadn’t been on a picnic in ages, and the majority of her wardrobe was divided thusly: work, black tie, and lounge. She owned very few pieces that were casual enough for a picnic, yet chic enough for a date.
A hurried owl to her sister had saved her, and Fleur had sent over a top from her own closet. Gabrielle paired it with some trousers she had lying around and a pair of flat strappy sandals. Trust Fleur to have an outfit for every single occasion.
The knock on the door startled her, and she swore under her breath. Hastily banishing her clothes back to her closet-- she’d organize them later-- she moved out of her bedroom and into the living room, crossing to the front door. Pausing to give her reflection a quick once-over in the mirror, she tossed her hair through her fingers and opened the door with a smile.
“Hello, Gabrielle,” Neil greeted with a grin. “I was beginning to think we’d never be able to coordinate our schedules, but I’m very pleased that’s not the case.”
“Bonjour, Neil,” she replied, her smile turning slightly coy as she held the door open for him. “I am also ‘appy zat we ‘ave worked ze day out. I was afraid you would geeve up.”
Taking her hand lightly, Neil kissed the soft skin just beneath her knuckles. “We barristers are a tenacious lot. Especially when properly enticed.” Gesturing back toward the hall, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“My papa ees a barrister. I know ‘ow you all can be,” Gabrielle said, smile growing when his lips brushed her skin. “Eef you weel let me get my bag, zen I weel be ready.”
Neil released her hand and nodded. “Of course.” He’d selected one of his favorite scenic spots for their picnic and there was nowhere around that she’d particularly need a handbag, but far be it from him to ask a lady to leave her things at home.
Summoning a well-loved leather satchel she’d picked up from a specialty shop off the Rue Montparnasse, Gabrielle slung the bag over her shoulder and gave her date a nod. “Bien. I am ready.”
“Brill,” Neil said with a grin as he reached for her hand. “Hold tight.” With a crack splitting the quiet of the flat, the pair was transported to a grassy field across from the White Cliffs of Dover. Glancing over at his date, he waited for her reaction.
A light breeze tugged at Gabrielle’s hair, pulling a few stray blonde locks across her face as she gazed out at the scenery. The view-- the waves crashing into the white cliffs-- reminded her of the similar scene in Brittany.
“Eet ees beautiful,” she breathed with a smile, glancing over at him. “Where are we?”
His smile grew at the happy expression that turned to him, and Neil gave her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it to set up their picnicking spot. “Dover,” he answered as he spread the blanket he’d brought. “The white cliffs have long been a favorite view of mine. It’s even better on a broom, but I wasn’t sure if you were a fan of flying.”
Her nose crinkled at the thought of flying. “Non, I prefer les sports zat are closer to ze ground.”
Settling on the blanket, Neil beckoned to her. “Well then, by all means come and get closer on the ground.”
Setting her purse down on the blanket, Gabrielle gracefully lowered herself next to Neil, settling down on the proffered blanket. A few little wiggles-- stretching and rearranging her legs, shaking out her hair-- and she was finally settled. Giving Neil a smile, she said, "Much prefer to ze flying. Do you agree?"
“Well, I rather enjoy flying, but I must admit that being in the company of a beautiful woman makes being grounded much more palatable.” Popping open the lid of the basket he’d brought, Neil retrieved a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a pair of wine glasses. “Drink?”
Gabrielle’s lips curled in satisfaction at the compliment, unable to stop herself from preening ever so slightly. She knew she was beautiful, and while she didn’t need to hear it said so, what woman didn’t like to have verbal verification of her beauty?
“Bien sûr,” she said with a nod, pleased at his choice of beverage. “You ‘ave brought ze wine. You know ze way to a French woman’s ‘eart.”
Neil chuckled softly, his mouth curling into a cheeky grin. “Had I known it was that easy to win you over, I wouldn’t have spent so many hours worrying my plans were too pedestrian for a woman like you.”
Confusion marred her face as she mulled his words, blonde brows drawn together. “I do not understand,” she said. “What do you mean by ‘pedestrian?’” If she was recalling correctly, that particular word in English referred to a person who was au pied.
“It means dull, uninspired,” he explained. “I’m sure you’re accustomed to much more grand offerings that my little picnic.” Neil wasn’t ashamed of his circumstances. He’d made a good living and a name for himself in the legal world in the short time he’d been practicing. Just the same, Gabrielle was beautiful. She traveled the world and no doubt had scores of admirers who had been even more successful. That was just they way it was.
She gave a dismissive wave. “Bah. I like zis ‘leetle pique-nique,’” she said, crinkling her nose at him as her lips twitched. “But my Eenglish is not good as my sister’s, so I am ‘oping you are not sad about that.”
“We manage to communicate just fine, I think, and it makes us pay closer attention to one another which has its own benefits.” Lifting his glass, he toasted “To taking the time to know each other.”
The thought that she did not mind paying closer attention to him one bit crossed her mind, bringing a coy smile to her lips. She raised her glass and let it clink lightly against his, blue eyes sparkling. “Salut,” she echoed, taking a sip of her wine.
Bringing the glass to his lips, Neil let the flavor roll over his tongue as he watched the beauty across from him. It was a pleasant discovery that Gabrielle met none of the stereotypes attributed to models, aside from the obvious attractiveness, of course. She was neither vapid nor superior, self-absorbed nor shallow from what he’d been able to glean thus far.
“So tell me, how do you usually spend your down time?” he asked.
Her nose crinkled. "I am not 'aving much of ze time when I do not work." A schedule like hers was nearly always booked with shows, shoots, and publicity campaigns. Many people thought being a model was easier; all that was required was the ability to smile and be pretty. But it was a grueling career path. Gabrielle loved it, of course, but it did not leave much time for engagements outside of work.
"But when I do," she said, taking a sip of her wine, "I am liking to spend time in Paris with my friends, or eef I am in England, with my sister and 'er family. She 'as two petit enfants, Claire et Tristian."
“My older sister has two children, too,” Neil said, smiling as he thought of his niece and nephew. “Paige is two and Nicholas is four months. I haven’t had much time to see them recently, but I get over as often as I can.”
“And you ‘ave only one sister? And Graham, bien sûr, with ‘is ballerina friend?”
With a shake of his head, he replied, “No, there are four of us. Rowan is the eldest and she’s married to a Muggle detective. Then there’s me and Graham. His ballerina is Lola Branstone, a tiny woman with a penchant for beating my brother senseless. Not that he has much to start. Bryn is the youngest. She’s at university.”
“Ees she studying ze law like you?” Gabrielle asked, cocking her head to the side in a quizzical gesture. “Or per’aps politics like your brother?” She had never felt the inclination to attend university after finishing Beauxbatons; non, she had had quite enough schooling to last her a lifetime. For her, school had been more of a social experience rather than an academic one.
“I don’t think she’s picked a firm direction yet. She’s just getting her basics in right now and seeing what her options are.” Neil’s smile turned crooked as he talked about his bright-eyed baby sister. “I don’t think Brynny’s going to end up taking after me though. She won’t want to do anything where she has to be serious all the time.”
“Ah bon? And are you serious all of ze time?” she asked, her smile turning flirtatious. “Are you being serious at ze moment?”
Neil leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Well, not all the time. You won’t tell anyone though, will you? I’m supposed to be a Very Serious Barrister.”
“And eef I am telling, what weel you do to me?” she replied, leaning slightly towards him. Her blue eyes flashed beneath long blonde lashes, and the slightest hint of white teeth shone through her coy smile.
“I’d have no choice but to lock you away in my dungeon,” he told her ominously, though the smile hadn’t left his face. “How else could I keep my secret?”
“But eef you lock me away, zen ze world will not be able to see my beauty.” For Gabrielle, that would be most a grievous sin. “Per’aps, I am theenking you are not zat cruel to do zat, non?”
“Well,” he replied thoughtfully, “the world might not be able to, but I would be able to enjoy your loveliness whenever I wanted to, wouldn’t I?” He was glad that despite their language barriers Gabrielle seemed to know he was only teasing. It would be very bad for his career to be arrested as a stalker.
Taking a sip of her wine, Gabrielle pretended to think for a moment. “For zat,” she said slowly, glancing towards him with bright eyes, “you ‘ave only need ask, monsieur.”
“Is that all?” Tipping his head to one side, Neil reached out and took her hand in his. “And what if I asked for a kiss? Would I be as successful with that request?”
“I am not knowing,” Gabrielle replied coquettishly, “but I do theenk per’aps you should take a chance and find out. Or ees ze risk not worth ze reward?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” With that he twined his fingers into Gabrielle’s long blonde hair and bent to capture her lips. As it turned out, the reward was well worth the risk.
Sighing against his lips, Gabrielle shifted onto her knees, leaning into the kiss. It would have been a lie to say that she hadn’t been hoping-- nay, expecting-- a kiss, and she was quite pleased Neil seemed to have caught on to her signals. She loved kissing; it was an excellent way to gauge a man’s skills. In her experience, if a man was a competent kisser, then he was most likely a competent lover.
Neil Pritchard was a very competent kisser.
Grasping her hips, Neil tugged her towards him, maneuvering her to straddle his lap. He was not usually one to push for physicality so quickly, that was more his brother’s area, but Gabrielle felt good pressed tightly against his body and Neil couldn’t quite convince himself of a reason not to enjoy the feeling while he could.
Manicured nails raked against the back of his neck, tangling in the short strands of his hair. His body was hard and warm against hers, and Gabrielle couldn’t help a little roll of her hips as she pressed closer to him, the tip of her tongue flicking at his.
A low growl escaped him as she rocked and Neil pulled back just far enough to meet the curious blue eyes now trained on him. “How do you say ‘tease’ in French, Miss Delacour?” he asked, returning the action she’d started.
Gabrielle let out a throaty little hum of pleasure, lips curling. “Une allumeuse,” she murmured.
“And are you une allumeuse, Gabrielle?” he asked, nibbling his way down her long, graceful neck.
“Mmm, Je crois que non,” she breathed, tipping her head back. Her free hand grasped at his bicep, fingertips digging into the fabric of his shirt.
Tongue dipping into the soft hollow of her throat, Neil gave a quiet hmmm. “That’s very good to know. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”
She inhaled sharply, a tiny exclamation of breath as she pressed her hips tighter against his. Neil was handsome, charming, and she liked the way he felt against her. She wanted what she wanted, and she saw no need in beating around the bush. “Bien.”
One nighters were not Neil’s style, nor was shagging a girl on the first date, no matter how beautiful she was. Tempting as the possibility was, he wanted to know Gabrielle before undressing her. No doubt his younger brother would think he was an idiot, and maybe he was, but it was a label he could live with. The tricky part was toning down their current encounter without making the lovely woman in his lap feel as if she was being rejected. “For another time,” he murmured, making his way back to her lips. “Today we have a picnic, good wine, a beautiful view, and pleasant company.”
Pulling back from his kiss to fix him with a searching look, Gabrielle paused for a moment. Perhaps she had misread Neil; he did not seem to be like most men she’d dallied with in the past, rushing to get her into bed. And while she had been ready to let him push further, it was a welcome change.
“D’accord,” she said finally, leaning in to kiss him again as she murmured, “another time.”
Summary: Neil and Gabrielle go on their first date.