Wild Temptation (35 page)

“Can I tell you something?” he says after a minute of walking.

“You can tell me anything.”

“True, but don’t do that freaking-out thing you do.”

“I do not—” I pause. “I promise I’ll try not to.”

“Good enough,” he mutters. He releases my hand and wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. His chin settles on my shoulder, and he turns his lips toward my ear. “You asked me why I was here. The answer is because I missed you.”

His words spread through me, sending adrenaline pumping through my veins, giving my heart a reason to thump extra loud. They finally settle into a warm glow in my lower stomach.

“Ty?”

“Yeah?”

I cross my arms and slide my hands along his forearms. My face tilts toward his until his lips are touching the corner of my mouth.

“I missed you, too.”

He nudges my face around a little further and brushes my lips with his. “What if I told you I managed to convince your boss to give you five days off of work?”

“What?” I jolt back. “You got Donny to give me another five days off? Why?”

“Dayton is going to Paris to meet with her dress designer—for real this time.” He smiles wryly. “Aaron is going, too, and since I have nothing booked for next week, I thought we’d join them.”

Paris? For five days? With Tyler?

“Where would we stay? At their place there?”

He shakes his head. “My parents own a hotel there. I reserved us a suite earlier today.”

Paris? For five days? With Tyler? Alone?

“Why?” I narrow my eyes.

“No need to look so skeptical.” He steps toward me and cups my chin. “I have an ulterior motive for whisking you off to Europe.”

I wrap my fingers around his wrist with a small smile. “Surely that’s reason for skepticism.”

He opens his mouth then closes it again. He nods once, his eyes sparkling. “Fair enough. No, I want to shoot you. For fun. Paris is a breathtakingly beautiful city.” He leans in so his lips touch mine when he speaks. “And I can’t think of a more perfect place to put you.”

My lips twitch against his. “I have nothing packed for it.”

“Dayton’s at your apartment right now. They’re meeting us at the airport in Paris.”

“But we don’t have tickets.”

“We don’t need tickets.”

I blink at him. “Um, to fly on a plane, you need tickets.”

Tyler pauses. Then his lips quirk, and he fights a laugh. “Oh, Liv, babe… We’re not flying Air France. We’re flying Air Stone courtesy of my parents.”

Of course we are.

“H
ave you ever had a proper French pastry?”

“What part of ‘I’ve never been to France’ don’t you understand?”

Tyler grins and pushes me back down on the bed. “You know, when I call you my bitch, I don’t mean it in a literal sense?”

I poke my tongue out at him, snuggle back under the sheets, and yawn.

“Okay, tired bitch, I’m going to get you pastries. I’ll be a while, so get some more sleep if you can.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.

I sigh as the front door closes. I’ve never had jet lag like this before. I’ve never been so time-fucked that I want to carve out my brain with a dessert spoon.

My phone buzzes from the nightstand and I reach over blindly. I smack the top of the stand several times before I find it and tuck it under the covers with me.

What are you doing today?

Dayton texts.

Waiting in bed for some hot British guy to bring me pastries.

Under the thumb!

Or hankering to be my boyfriend that’s really a boyfriend.

And boy, he really is. When we landed late last night, he wouldn’t let me so much as touch my suitcase before he handed them off to a porter. Then when we got up to our suite, he made me tea and called down for toast and bacon.

Now, he’s getting pastries.

But shit. The guy brought me to France. And our relationship that isn’t really a relationship is beginning to feel exactly like a real relationship. I mean, the forehead kiss. You don’t forehead kiss a girl you’re just fucking or a girl you care about. Nope. You forehead kiss a girl you want to be with because you know if she wants you too, it’ll make her spine tingle.

I am tingly. I’m frickin’ vibrating from that one brief touch. I can still feel the warmth of his lips on my skin. Because, goddamn it, he’s a real man. Only a real man could kiss my forehead with the barest of touches and set me on fire.

How is your relationship that isn’t really a relationship?

Hovering somewhere between a relationship that isn’t really a relationship and a relationship that could be a relationship.

SQUEEEEE!!

Did she just fucking squee at me? Paris messes with her head, clearly.

Don’t ever squee at me again,

I shoot back. Seriously. No one in their right mind should ever squee.

Sorry. I just want you to be happy.

I am happy. I was happy before I met Tyler. He just makes me a little…happier.

Oh, just get over yourself and agree to be his girlfriend.

Don’t you have a man to entertain?

He’s out getting pastries. ;P

Wow. Their mamas trained them right.

I reply saying that I’ll talk to her later when I know what we’re doing and slide my phone beneath the pillow. It’s surreal to be in the city Day has told me so much about—to see the place where she and Aaron fell in love. Before, it seemed like a whole different world. Somewhere I’d never get to experience for myself.

Only now I am. I’m here, in this city I haven’t really seen any of at all. And just maybe… Maybe that Parisian magic I’ve heard so much about could spread some fucking fairy love dust on me.

Maybe.

I stand and wrap the sheet around me before pushing open the balcony doors and looking out. It’s cold—no colder than Seattle, although it’s freezing in just a sheet—but the view makes the goose bumps flaring up across my exposed skin worth it.

Holy. Beautiful.

I can see across the rooftops. The old-style, almost antique, rooftops. There are flowers sitting on some of them, and almost every building I can see has some sort of a balcony. With flowers. Flowers everywhere. It’s beautiful and charming.

The Eiffel Tower is a few blocks away, stretching above everything else, its beauty not marred by the light-grey clouds behind it. It’s a majestic sight even from here.

I lean my back against the wall, wrapping the sheet tighter around me. I have a sneaking suspicion that Tyler asked for this suite—for one that faces the Tower. Like he knew how much it would enchant me.

“So much for sleeping,” he says softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“I couldn’t. I wanted to look at, well, this.” I cast my eyes across the horizon. He wasn’t kidding when he said that it was breathtakingly beautiful.

“You look like a little kid who just found themselves in a sweet shop.”

I smile. “Sweet shop.”

He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Sweet shop.” He grins. “I got you pastries. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you three.”

“Ooh, which ones?”

“A croissant, a beignet, and a pain au chocolat.”

“Oooh, chocolate?” My eyes widen and I dart into the bedroom. Two paper bags are lying on the bed, and I delve into them. “Um, which is which?”

Tyler hands me the pain au chocolat and I take it with too much excitement.

“Seriously? It’s acceptable to eat chocolate and carbs for breakfast here?” I bite into it anyway.
Oh my god, so good.

“For breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He grabs the beignet and tears some off with his teeth. I drop onto the bed and nibble my way through the pain au chocolat, reveling in this newfound glory far too much.

I mean, carbs and chocolate. For breakfast. Hell-o, France. I’m moving here.

I’ll consider working out at a later date.

When I finish the pastry, I drop back onto the bed. Hello, carb high. I haven’t officially left the hotel room yet but I already love Paris.

Tyler leans over me. “Get ready. Get pretty. We’re going out.”

“
Get
pretty?” I raise my eyebrows and link my fingers behind his neck.

He drops a quick kiss on my mouth. “I’m not obliged to tell you you’re pretty all the time until you’re actually my girlfriend.”

“Ha, ha, fucking ha!” I throw the croissant at him when he gets off me.

He grabs it off the floor and bites the end off savagely. “Thanks, baby girl.”

“Fuck you.” I get up. This time, I leave the sheet on the bed.

Tyler looks across my body and my eyes shoot to his pants. One, two… There it is. A telltale bulge begins to show and push against the zipper of his jeans. I bring my eyes up to his and he swallows.

“Get dressed. Now. Or the first thing you’ll be seeing of Paris is the underside of those fucking sheets over there.”

I bite the inside of my lip, smiling, as he walks out of the room.

Hey, two can play the asshole game. He throws the relationship thing in my face, I’ll throw my body in his. I get the feeling that the next three days will be much the same—back and forth, pushing and pushing against each other. It’ll all bundle into a tight ball of tension that will either be eliminated by sex…or an argument.

Either way, I say bring it the fuck on.

This is the most cliché moment of my life.

It’s raining and I’m standing in front of the Eiffel Tower…with a red umbrella. I swear, Tyler thinks he’s hilarious. I think the British have a very, very odd sense of humor.

“Just smile,” he begs, his own umbrella tucked under his armpit—to keep his baby dry, he claims. He lifts his camera to his face. “Please.”

“This looks like all the images on Pinterest I’ve seen!” I protest. “Seriously? Red? Wasn’t there blue or something?” I twirl the umbrella.

“Red stands out. It’s all photographical. Trust me, okay?”

I sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh for fuck sake, Liv! You have a beautiful smile. Stop being a stroppy bitch and smile at me!”

Stroppy! Oh my god. I have a new favorite word! I laugh. Seriously—I love Britspeak. I love it even more when it comes from Tyler. Damn. Tyler and love in the same sentence just…sounds so right and feels so right but is so wrong.

Wait, what’s that ache in my neck? Oh, that’s just the fucking whiplash I’m giving myself yet again.

“I love your smile,” he says, breaking through the terse silence in my mind.

“My smile is goofy.”

“I love your goofy smile,” he corrects, smiling himself. “It’s infectious.”

“Funny. I think that about you sometimes.”

I point the umbrella to the ground and twirl with it. Sometimes, being spontaneous is the only way to go. I glance up from my puddle-splashing and spinning. Tyler’s watching me through his camera, his finger clicking.

I skip toward him, not caring about the rain cascading down my face, and roll with my spontaneous moment. I drop the umbrella at the same time that he lets the camera fall and jump up on him. My legs go around his waist, his hands cup my ass, my fingers tangle in his hair, and I kiss him.