The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(33)

I frown as I watch him. “What puts you in this mood today?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He puts the back of his forearm over his eyes.

“Tris.” I pull his arm off his face.

His eyes hold mine.

“Look at you getting all needy.”

“I am not getting all needy,” he snaps, insulted.

“What’s this, then?”

“This is . . .” He frowns as he tries to articulate himself. “I’m not fucking needy, Claire. I’ve never been needy in my entire life.”

“If you say so.” I smile and kiss him. I run my fingers through his hair to try to calm him. “Take me sightseeing, Mr. Miles. Show me Paris through your eyes.”

He regains his composure and rolls me onto my back and holds my hands above my head. “The only way you’re going to be seeing Paris is on the end of my dick.”

I giggle. “You’re a sex maniac.”

He bites my bottom lip and stretches it out. “We already established this.”

The candlelight flickers on our faces.

We are in Tristan’s favorite restaurant in Paris. He’s ordered for us, and I swear every time he talks to someone in French, I lose a little more of my mind.

What a dreamy day. We went to the Louvre and then to the Eiffel Tower. Then we strolled down the Champs-élysées, a strip of gorgeous shops. We visited the Arc de Triomphe and then went to the ruins of Notre Dame. At one point, I thought Tristan was going to burst into tears. He loves that chapel and had been there many times before it burned down. I take his hand over the table. “Thank you, Tris. I’ve had the best day.”

He smiles warmly over at me.

“Seriously, like one of my favorite days ever in my entire life.”

His eyes glow with tenderness as he squeezes my hand. “I’m glad. It’s a beautiful city.”

“Oh . . . it really is,” I gush. “The Eiffel Tower and, oh, the Louvre.” I shake my head as I go over the day. “I can’t believe I’m even here, you know?”

He sips his red wine as he smiles over at me. “And it’s not over yet. I got you a surprise.”

“You did?” I smile.

“Tickets to Moulin Rouge tonight.”

My mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”

“You can’t come here and not see it.” He smiles sexily.

“Oh,” I gush over at him. “You are the best tour guide ever. You know so much about this place.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time here.”

“Do you always stay at the same hotel?”

“Always, and the same room.”

“You always stay in the same room?”

“Yes.” He chuckles. “Makes me feel more at home if I have familiar surroundings.”

“What’s it like?” I frown. “What’s it like traveling the world on your own?”

“I’m not alone. I have friends everywhere I go. I just pick up where I left off with them last time I was here.”

I watch him for a moment. “Do you have a lady friend here?”

“No one steady.”

That shouldn’t make me as happy as it does. “Where do you live in New York?” I ask.

“I have a penthouse in Tribeca.”

“Oh.” I frown.

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“I have a house in Long Island.”

“Long Island?” he gasps. “You commute every day?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “We wanted the kids to have a house with a yard growing up.”

“Hmm.” He thinks on my answer for a moment and rests his chin on his hand with his elbow on the table.

“I don’t know if I want to go to Moulin Rouge with you,” I say, deep in thought.

“Why not?”

I shrug bashfully. “All those beautiful young girls with their boobs hanging out.”

He smiles over at me.

“I might get jealous.” I smile as I sip my wine. “You must date some beautiful women.”

He sips his wine but doesn’t reply. The question hangs in the air between us. “What was your favorite thing you saw today?” He changes the subject.

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“It was you.”

Our eyes lock.

“You were the most beautiful thing I saw today, Tristan Miles.”

The air swirls between us, and he takes my hand again over the table. “Do you know how you can really impress me, Anderson?”

“How?”

“You can strip down to a G-string, go topless, and get onstage tonight at the Moulin Rouge and dance for me.”

I giggle as I imagine the horror. “I don’t want to evacuate the establishment.”

He drops his chin back onto his hand and gives me a slow, sexy smile. “The other women would all pale to your beauty.”

I smirk at his ridiculous statement.

“On any stage,” he whispers as his eyes hold mine.

An unwelcome flutter happens in my stomach.

The air between us is electric, and I know that I shouldn’t be feeling this . . . whatever this is . . . but when he says sweet things, I can’t help but feel something in my chest.