Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
“You’re a twat,” I whisper, using his word.
“I’m your twat. See? It makes a difference.” He kisses me again, curling his fingers around the back of my neck. “And I’m not ashamed to admit I’m yours. When you’re smiling at me, when you’re lying there in underwear you have no idea is sexy, when you’re fucking me and clinging to my hair like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment…I’m yours.”
I say nothing, letting this moment linger. Letting his words hover between us, embracing them, holding on to them…getting addicted to them. To the underlying current of power in every syllable. To the smooth way he strung them all together and the way he never stopped to take a breath. To the inflection in the word ‘yours.’
Addicted to the way he didn’t have to think for a second about saying them.
Addicted to the way they’re making me feel.
Safe. Warm. Cherished. Protected.
Owned.
I take a deep breath that shudders through my body. The combination of his breath mingling with mine and the tingle of his palm against my neck is heady and intoxicating.
Right now, dizzy from his words and the response they’ve elicited inside me, I want to give in.
I want to tell him yes.
I want to tell him we can do that. That, despite our addictions, two opposite poles, we can make it work.
But I don’t. I can’t—because I can’t promise what I might not be able to fulfill. That’s the bottom line. The intensity of my addiction could destroy us. It could tear us into a thousand unfixable pieces, because the only coping method I truly know is avoidance.
Not putting myself in a place where I can get addicted is how I cope with it.
“Come on,” Ty says, trailing his fingers around my neck and dropping his hand. He grabs my hands and pulls me against him. “I want to show you something.”
“What?”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “You’ll see.”
“This is such an Aaron move.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Book out the whole Eiffel Tower. Really? What the hell makes you think it’s necessary?”
“I don’t abuse the money I have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to spend it sometimes.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Um, you own one of the most expensive cars on the market right now, you had me brought to your apartment in a private car, and you’ve just booked out the Eiffel Tower. Spending it is forcing me to buy pretty things on the Champs-Élysées.” I poke him in the arm.
“Trust me,” he whispers into my ear, settling his arm around my shoulders. “You’re worth every single penny I have.”
I want to roll my eyes, but the moment he finishes speaking, we step out of the elevator. And my breath is taken away by the view before me. Paris—every inch of it—is spread out in front of me.
I walk around the platform. Notre Dame. Le Palais. A thousand other incredibly beautiful landmarks I can’t begin to mention. The buildings that line every block, every street, their rooftops covered with flowers in random bursts of brightness. Even through the gentle grey of the clouds hovering above us in the sky, Paris from above is so fucking beautiful that it almost hurts to look at it.
“I want to tell you a secret,” Tyler whispers, coming up behind me and resting his hands on either side of mine on the railing. “The way you’re looking around now is the way I feel every time I look at you.”
He touches his lips to my neck at the same time that my lungs fill with air. I don’t believe him. There is no way he or anyone else on Earth can feel the sense of awe and wonderment I feel right now by just looking at a person.
I don’t care how perfect he thinks we are. I don’t care if he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman on Earth. I care about the way this city mesmerizes me and almost pulls me into another dimension with its beauty.
I don’t believe for a second that Ty feels that when he looks at me.
He runs his nose across the base of my neck. My coat is pushed down by his neck, and a chilly wind wraps around us. I’m glad for my gloves, which are keeping my fingers warm, and even gladder for Tyler’s breath on my neck. He’s keeping me warm.
“What did you mean when you said you don’t abuse your money?” I say suddenly, my attention shifting fully from the view to the man behind me.
He smiles against my skin. “Why don’t we head to the restaurant for a drink?”
I nod my agreement and allow him to lead me into the elevator and then into the restaurant. It gives incredible views of Paris, and I settle onto a plush chair by a window. Tyler orders us both a cup of coffee. I raise my eyebrow to his laughter.