Reluctantly Yours(84)
“All right. Let’s go or we’ll never leave this room.”
We both know he’s right.
Out on the street, there’s a car waiting for us. Valentin, our driver, takes us through the city. While I can’t always understand what he’s saying due to English being his second language, Barrett is a diligent guide, pointing out shops and restaurants and sharing facts about history and architecture.
The day goes by in a blur.
A private tour at Louvre, lunch on the patio at Le Servan where I don’t bother to look at the menu but everything that is put in front of me is delicious—mussels, sardines on brioche toast and black pudding. And Bordeaux wine which Barrett explains the history of. I love how excited he gets talking about it all. I’ve never been a history buff, so it’s fun to hear all the random facts he’s got stored in his brain.
After lunch we opt to walk and bid Valentin farewell. We spend the afternoon touring Notre-Dame, then make our way over to Ile St. Louis. Even though I’m still full from lunch, I can’t pass up ice cream at world famous Glacier Berthillon.
I select tiramisu flavor while Barrett opts for the wild strawberry sorbet.
“This is ruining Ben & Jerry’s for me,” I tell him between licks.
With his arm around my back, he pulls me in close.
“This is making me think of your mouth around my cock,” he whispers against my ear. I nearly choke on my ice cream.
We take our ice cream to go and walk along the Seine. It’s a warm afternoon, and having gotten a double scoop, I have to work hard to eat it before it melts.
Just when I think the day can’t get better, Barrett leads me to where a boat is docked at the riverside. A private boat tour along the Seine. And there’s champagne.
“You’re really raising the stakes for future dates,” I say, immediately regretting it. Barrett never indicated that there would be other dates. This could all be for show. An elaborate date to prove that we travel like any legitimate couple would.
Barrett pulls me into his lap, his hair sexy and windblown from the boat ride.
“I’m up for the challenge,” he says, taking my face in his hands. He tastes like strawberries and champagne. And forever.
I’m torn because I want to pay attention to the tour that Michelé, the boat captain, is giving us, but I also want to curl up in Barrett’s arms and fall asleep. The travel and exciting day of sightseeing is catching up with me.
I yawn.
“Close your eyes. It’s okay.”
With the warm evening breeze in my hair, and Barrett’s strong arms around me, I decide to take a quick nap and let my eyes fall closed.
When I wake, we’re still on the boat, but it’s dark now. Barrett’s eyes are closed, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling evenly under my palm.
I look up to find we are moving down the river toward the Eiffel Tower which is now lit up in warm yellow lights against the night sky.
Michelé steers the boat toward a nearby ramp. We have to be close to our hotel now.
“Hey.” Barrett shifts under me to look around.
“Hi. We both fell asleep.”
He laughs, rubbing his face.
Michelé says something in French that Barrett must understand. He shakes his hand, then tips his head at me.
“Bonjour,” I say, excited to use one of the few French words I know.
We walk over the bridge to get to the other side of the river.
“Are you hungry?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again.” I press a hand to my stomach where eating for a day in Paris has made the waistband of my shorts tighter. “But walking feels good.”
He nods, and we walk in a contented silence. Our path uncertain, but directed by the warm glow of the city’s greatest landmark.
My feet are exhausted from exploring the city today, but as the sky has darkened, there’s a new feel in the air. Nighttime in Paris is a whole other experience, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. The people gathered on patios, eating and drinking, the fluidity of their spoken words while foreign is hypnotizing. And there’s music. A woman’s soft, yet captivating voice reaches us from afar.
As we walk through the Jardin du Champs de Mars, the source of the music becomes apparent. On one side of the green space, a small band is performing. It’s an informal concert, with many couples and groups stretched out on blankets enjoying the performance.
“What about dancing?” Barrett asks.
“I thought you weren’t a fan of dancing.”
Wordlessly, he wraps his left arm around my back, then takes my hand in the other. I put my free hand on his shoulder. He pulls me close and leans down, his lips brushing against my jaw before he whispers, “There are many things I wasn’t a fan of before.”
He doesn’t elaborate on what those things are or what he means by ‘before.’ He doesn’t have to. I know the feeling.
There, in the city of lights, wrapped in Barrett’s arms, I realize this fake relationship is quickly starting to feel very real.
CHAPTER 27
Barrett
Watching Chloe take in Paris is doing funny things to me.
I’ve been here countless times, but I’ve never experienced the city before like I am with Chloe. She wants to see everything, try everything. Her constant wide-eyed stare as she takes it all in is intoxicating.