Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“I love this city.” She seemed to say it more to herself than to me, like a thought meant for herself had accidentally been expressed.
“What do you love about it?”
She turned at the question, her green eyes locking on mine. “Everything.”
“I want specifics.”
She looked into her coffee as she composed her response in her head. “That our modern lives are intertwined with the past.” She turned to the bridge in the distance. “Napoleon’s mark endures for centuries.” The big N carved into the stone was visible, even at this distance, his mark on all different kinds of landmarks, especially the Seine, so anyone who entered Paris by boat would still know the emperor. “The building we are in now has probably been here since the sixteenth century. I think that’s really special, that you can see what Paris used to be even when you walk through the streets and the cars. The way the city is lit up so bright at night, that you can walk anywhere and never get swallowed by the dark. The way we’re obsessed with food the way Americans are obsessed with money. It’s the only place where people want to walk in the rain. The place of great artists and writers and poets…a place full of such creativity. I don’t care how expensive this city is, how small my apartment is. I’m not leaving for the suburbs because it’s cheaper. I’ll hook on the street if I have to.”
“If it ever comes to that, I’d be happy to pay for your services.”
She smiled slightly, a blush moving into her fair cheeks, her eyes on the Seine. “Do what you love and never work a day in your life, right?” Her eyes found mine, and the second we made contact, her smile started to fade.
“You think I’m joking.” I’d be happy to make her my private whore, put her up in a beautiful apartment where her only concern would be to fuck me—and only me. Her husband had made the greatest mistake of his life sticking his dick in someone else, because now I was going to stick my dick in her every night.
She broke contact and drank her coffee. The silence trickled by as she did her best to act like that part of the conversation had never happened. “I’m not sure what direction my life is going. I don’t have an education and only have a little work experience. Most people are passionate about something. But to be honest, I’m not passionate about anything.”
“All I’ve seen from you is passion.”
Her eyes came back to me.
“You’re passionate about this city. You’re passionate about food. And you’re very passionate in bed.”
Her eyes dropped down to her coffee like she didn’t want to face the truth, that she was a vixen in bed who clawed my back until I bled. It seemed to bring her a heavy sense of shame.
“Why does that bother you?”
“What?”
“The way you fuck me.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” she said quietly. “I just…feel guilty about it.”
“Why the fuck would you feel guilty about that?” Her husband had ended their marriage the moment he betrayed her. She owed him nothing—not a damn thing.
“I know it’s stupid—”
“It is stupid.”
She looked at me again. “We’ve only been separated for a month. I’m not one to keep receipts or hold grudges, so jumping into bed with someone else isn’t really me.” She wore heavy makeup whenever I saw her, but she looked just as beautiful without it, especially in the afternoon light. The fact that she didn’t care if I saw her without makeup was sexy. “But the moment I saw you walk into that bar…I wanted you.”
I felt a tightness all over my body, a flush of desire unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I’d already had her, and by now, I should be bored of her, but the desire only got worse. So much worse.
Her stare remained on mine, confident enough in herself to pull off such a statement. She never breached the territory of arrogance, never even coming close to that line. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
Chapter 4
Fleur
Bastien’s driver took me home.
He pulled up to the building and let me out, and then I took the long walk up the stairs to my apartment. If Adrien was still watching me, and he probably was, he would know that I had been gone all night.
Which meant he was in my apartment right now, waiting to bulldoze me.
I got the key into the lock and stepped inside. When I walked to the dining table where I normally put my stuff because it was such a small apartment, I saw him on the couch, looking mad as hell. “This really needs to stop—”
“We are still married.” He got to his feet, the volume of the choice making the glass shake. He was the maddest he’d been since the day I’d met him, his face red like a tomato. “You think I’m out fucking around?” He raised his left hand, showing the wedding ring he claimed he never removed.