26 Hours in Paris

by Demi Alex

  “I was thinking,” she admitted, feeling her skin prickle at the brazen thoughts flashing through her mind. “I was thinking that you are the most selfless and generous lover. You didn’t get off.”

  She reached for him and pressed an open palm over the impressive bulge at his groin. He was so hard.

  “Oh, but I will,” he promised. “After we get the sightseeing part of our agenda out of the way, and when I have my two hours.”

  “So our car ride doesn’t count toward your two hours?”

  “No. I’ll take all the time I can get.” He reached for the purple vibrator and tossed it in the paper package. “Kat, you have a way of altering everything I plan. The original idea was for you to wear the damn thing on the ride up the tower. I was going to make you wait. You were supposed to climax at the top, but the gorgeous color and delicious scent of your excitement couldn’t be put off. I needed to see you come as soon as possible. I need you again.”

  “I need you, too.” Kat reached for him and let her fingers explore his magnificent mouth. She ran her fingers over his lips, and her heart filled with love and admiration as he sucked on them, before claiming her mouth in a slow kiss. His tongue glided over hers, coaxing her to surrender to the chemistry that sizzled between them. The opportunity to enjoy his kind strength wouldn’t last, but she was damned if she wouldn’t revel in it for the moment.

  As if seeing her inner thoughts, he broke the kiss and took her other hand, tenderly easing his thumb over her knuckles. He turned it and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. “Are you ready to experience the Eiffel Tower?”

  She nodded. She was ready for anything she could have with him.

  Marko rapped on the window, and Jean-Luc swiftly appeared and opened Kat’s door. He offered Kat his hand. “Mademoiselle, c’est bon?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She looked into telling seafoam-colored eyes, and a tingle ran down her spine. Jean-Luc knew what had happened in the vehicle, but he approved. The comforting green gaze offered pleased assurance.

  “Ask Marko to stop at the snack bar before you enter the lift,” the driver said in a low tone. “The chocolate croissants are divine.”

  “Merci, Jean-Luc,” she replied, making room for Marko to stand beside her as the driver stepped away. She reached for Marko and adjusted his tie, placing her palm on the white dress shirt and smiling. “I’m with a handsome man, in a gorgeous city, and counting my lucky stars. I’m so glad Paul and Justin told you I was coming. I’m even grateful for the feature competition.”

  “Yes. You came to Paris. You came to me.”

  True. From the moment she’d decided on the trip, she’d known that rendezvousing with Marko was highly likely. If she were honest, she’d admit it had been her secret motivation. Honesty took guts. She wasn’t brave enough for such an admission. “Amongst other things, it really gives us time to catch up. Thank you for making time.”

  “Making time?” Marko shook his head and sucked air between his teeth. “Not how I’d describe it, bella. I’ve been counting time waiting for you.” He fit a finger beneath her chin and angled her face to his. His mouth lingered inches above her lips, and his warm breath tickled her senses. His dark gaze settled on her eyes. “It’s also not about catching up, sweetheart. Don’t fool yourself or lie to me.”

  Marko closed the space between them and settled his lips on her mouth. Patient but sure, he waited until her lips parted and her tongue swept out in search of his. The kiss was sweet and quick. He lifted his head and gave her a wicked smile.

  “What?” Kat asked.

  “Selfish thoughts, my dear. Very selfish.” He traced his thumb pad over her trembling lip. “Men like their toys. Your body is my dream toy. I can’t wait to explore every inch. To touch every trigger. And to turn you on so hard that you will writhe in my hold and beg me for more.”

  Heat crawled up her neck. She dropped her gaze to his chest. “I think you’ve already managed to make me beg.”

  “Not nearly enough to satisfy my ego,” he said, straightening, tucking the wrap around her, and arranging her beret. “The wind will be cold.”

  She wanted to tell him that if she fed his ego any more, it would swell to an unmanageable size. But she didn’t. His ego and arrogance were part of his allure.

  He laced her hand through his arm and led them into the crowd of tourists. English, German, Italian, and Chinese words floated in the air. Vendors peddled their souvenirs. Police moved stragglers along. There was so much going on, but all Kat could feel was the way Marko’s fingers closed over hers.

  “Don’t get me wrong, because I’m not complaining. I’m actually very grateful, but I’m also baffled,” Marko said. “You are so responsive, bella. Absolutely sexy and beautiful. How is it possible that some shrewd New Yorker doesn’t have you tied to his bed and at his mercy?”

  She released a slow, long breath and shook her head. It’s because no shrewd New Yorker could measure up to my arrogant overseas god. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why is that?”

  Kat shrugged and stared straight ahead at the iconic steel structure.

  “Do you trust me?” He squeezed her hand and urged her to look at him. Concern and something she couldn’t recognize filled his dark eyes.

  “Of course,” she replied. She trusted him completely. She’d always trusted him.

  “Then you will let me know everything you want and desire, regardless of circumstances or timing. Everything. Understood?” He tightened his hold. “I will see to everything you need and give you everything you want. The only requirements are your honesty and trust.”

  Nodding her agreement, Kat continued her deep breathing and focused on walking straight ahead. Images of her hands and feet tied at the corners of his bed and of herself at his mercy played in her head.

  “Would you tie me to your bed?” She mentally kicked herself in the ass the second the words were out.

  “In a heartbeat,” he replied.

  Wanton desire hissed through her body and sizzled between her legs. He meant it. Marko would fulfill her every fantasy. She didn’t need to hide her sexual hunger and she didn’t need to ignore her longings.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we should hurry to the top of the Eiffel Tower, see the beauty of the city, and retreat to a private place.” She glanced up at him. “Toys are designed for play. I want you to play with your toy.”

  “C’est bon.” He grinned and hastened his stride.

  Marko was pleased, which in turn pleased Kat. She had done the right thing. She’d told him what she wanted. Kat walked on clouds, impatient to reach the lifts and finish the tour. She could see the long lines of tourists, and was tempted to call off the excursion and spend the remainder of her time satiating her carnal cravings.

  The reality of the situation kept her silent. She needed the research. She wanted the byline. If she allowed herself to follow her heart, she’d lose herself and all she’d worked for. Being with Marko always carried that risk.

  A young boy approached with a bronze replica and offered it at a special price to the “pretty lady.” Marko drew her close and raised his brow in a negative response, surprising Kat with the harsh manners.

  “Unfortunately, he is not an innocent child,” Marko said against her ear. “The athletic shoes he’s wearing cost well over two hundred euros.” He stopped in front of a table dressed in a tattered gold cloth. “We’ll choose something from this woman. It seems like she can use the business and will appreciate the support. She’s also not harassing the other tourists.”

  The woman held out a heavy marble paperweight depiction of the Eiffel Tower. “Dis?”

  Kat smiled at the elderly woman, who motioned for her to examine the souvenir. Truth was, she didn’t care for a tchotchke. “The apartment is rather small. I don’t want to crowd it with dust collectors,” she explained in a whisper for only Marko to hear. “Something smaller in size, please.”

  The old
er woman pointed to a silver heart keychain, with a small, dangling Eiffel Tower in the middle. “Dis?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Bon,” Marko said, taking the keychain and adding a pair of silver earrings to the mix. “Merci, madame.”

  The vendor quickly wrapped the jewelry and tchotchke in a floral paper, offering it to Marko. He dropped the package in his coat pocket and handed her a hundred-euro bill, lifting his hand to indicate for her to keep the change.

  Kat looked up at him and laughed. “When are you going to wear dangling, rhinestone-encrusted Eiffel Tower earrings?”

  “I’m not. But I know a little girl who will love them,” he said, turning his back on the souvenir stand. “Plus, I think that lady deserves the money. She doesn’t hustle visitors and works hard for a living. You can see it in her eyes.”

  Saying she was proud of him seemed vain and inadequate. It was more like she admired him and his insight. “Thank you for the keychain. It’s perfect.”

  “Bon, bella. Now are you heeding Jean-Luc’s advice and stopping for a bite before we enter the lifts?”

  “Yes, that sounds wonderful. It seems like the French air makes me famished.”

  He grinned, smug as ever, and took her hand. “I’m sure it’s the air.”

  Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, and snuggled close to him. She’d missed his self-assured remarks, but damn if the man was ever wrong. “You know you’re just a bit cocky.”

  “So you’ve said.” His dimpled chin lifted a little higher. The man was so incorrigible. He always thought he knew best, and Kat secretly, only secretly, admitted to believing he was right.

  Marko’s analytical mind and determined will were unstoppable powers in the world of business. On a personal level, he was respectful and caring to all he loved. People, places, and products amongst them all.

  Smart, good looking, and loyal, the prominent man was any mother’s dream for her daughter. On more than one occasion, Kat’s mom had asked what had happened to her best friend. Past . . . that was the past, she reminded herself. He wasn’t hers. She had no right. Keep things simple, Kat.

  “Is being cocky how you went from a growth”—she hooked two fingers of her free hand into quotation marks by her head when she said growth—“position at the World Bank to being one of the greatest assets and the youngest junior partner at the largest financial company in all of Europe?”

  “I like that version,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Even more, I like that I’m not the only one who has kept tabs on an old schoolmate.”

  Busted. He’d never discussed his career with her, but she’d confessed to knowing it well. She sucked on her lower lip, but didn’t miss a step. “It was hard not to stay in the know where you’re concerned. You were splashed on every society or finance page at every newsstand.”

  “Right. At some point today, I’d like to talk about some business meetings I have tomorrow, bella.”

  She pressed her palm against the dancing butterflies in her stomach. “Is it bad?”

  “No. It’s all good. Let’s table the discussion for later though.” He led her through the crowd, and without asking, he ordered a single chocolate croissant. “This should hold my little chocoholic for an hour or so. We’ll enjoy the real deal from the boulangerie next door to the apartment. Antoine makes the best croissants, obviously his late wife’s recipe.”

  “I’m looking forward to trying your local bakery,” she said, eyeing the pastry. In what she knew to be a very non-French move, she opened her mouth wide and sank her teeth into the prettiest and best-smelling croissant she’d ever seen. Once the flaky dough met her tongue, she closed her eyes and savored the taste of every chew. She swallowed and looked up at him. “This one is divine.” She took another bite and slowly repeated the delicious experience. When she opened her eyes again, she licked her lips. “It’s better than sex.”

  Marko narrowed his gaze and cocked a brow.

  “Present sex-company excluded,” she added quickly then gave him a sultry wink.

  “I would hope so. You beat down my manhood with a mass-produced-for-tourists croissant,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He lowered his mouth and licked at the corner of her lips. “Not bad. But maybe it’s the tasting method.”

  Kat laughed, happy to see his pompous play. He’d been serious and intense after their stroll, and she craved his smile.

  “Hurry, bella. We have a tower to visit.” Marko took a big bite and smacked her ass. “Then, we’ll see what you think about present-company sex.”

  She popped the last piece in her mouth, smacking her gloved hands to shake off the golden flakes. “In that case, allons-y,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the line at the lift.

  * * *

  Waiting in line wasn’t something Marko generally did or liked, but if it meant he did so with his arms wrapped around Kat, he’d stand as long as possible. Her small frame fit perfectly against his chest, and he couldn’t get enough of the sweet scent of her hair. Lavender and vanilla. Same as always. He held her tight, taking deep breaths, and sending up a prayer of gratitude for the second chance that had come his way.

  “You made your papa proud. Not many young women could have handled his business the way you did,” he said, rubbing his chin on her hair and swaying her in his hold. “You were probably the busiest aluminum-siding company in New York.”

  “The busiest?”

  “With such a beautiful boss at the helm, I’m sure every contractor wanted to work overtime and bring in as many new jobs as possible.” He pressed his right leg against the back of hers and stepped forward. Left leg next. “There’s no doubt I’d do anything to spend as much time with you as humanly possible.”

  She turned her head toward the metal staircase. “You know, the faster we see this landmark, the faster we’ll be at your place.”

  “Stairs,” he said. “The stairs will be faster.” He pulled her through the crowd and directly to the metal staircase. Speaking with an attendant in rapid-fire French she couldn’t understand, he motioned for her to start up. “Stay on your toes, sweetheart. Not sure those heels will do well on over seven hundred metal stairs.”

  “How many?” Kat asked in a high voice.

  “Seven hundred and four to be exact,” he replied. “Get going, bella.”

  “Maybe we should wait on line,” she offered. “Seven hundred and four steps is a long way up.”

  “No way you’re issuing an invitation to get you alone faster and then making me wait.” He playfully swatted her bum and growled. “Climb.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Okay. You asked for it.”

  Marko took the first few flights two steps at a time to keep up to her. The woman proved to be a speed demon on heels. Paris rooftops dropped away and other landmarks came into view as they scrambled high above the ground. They had almost reached the first-floor entrance before he leaned an arm across the metal banister and kept her from taking the final four steps.

  “Are you still addicted to your stair-climbing routine?” Marko snarled in order to conceal the effort of catching his breath.

  “Sort of,” she said, showing no strain in her composure. “I’ve added arms and moved onto an elliptical machine since the last time we worked out together.”

  “How long?”

  “What do you mean?” She darn well knew what he meant, yet she batted her eyelashes like an innocent bystander.

  “How long do you spend on the stair machine each day?” He tightened his arm and pulled her against his chest. “Checking for stamina, sweetheart.”

  “Oh,” she puffed, feigning a shocked look. “About seventy-five minutes daily.”

  “Good. I’ll carry your coat. Take it off now.” He allowed her just enough room to maneuver the wrap and wool coat off her shoulders and down her back. Cupping her ass, he slid his palm over the tight globes and down her toned thighs. “If I’m marathoning up these stairs, I’m going to maximize the view
.”

  “You are horrible,” she said, laughing and draping the coat over his forearm. “How much further?”

  “A few more steps,” he said, laughing as he drew back his arm and let her pass. “This is the renovated first floor. The restaurant has a line of reservations as long as the line for the lifts. It’s a mecca for lovers to connect . . . or reconnect.”

  He briskly walked her through the level, pausing only for a few seconds so she could take some photos with her phone. While she studied the bustling city, he spoke to Jean-Luc and instructed him to arrange for quick access to the lift to the third floor.

  “What an amazing sight,” she said, her voice full of admiration. “Seeing Paris above the rooftops is like seeing over a forest’s canopy.”

  “There’s a gift shop on this level as well.” He pointed to the establishment, but didn’t enter. “The transparent glass flooring is a very popular part of the renovation, allowing visitors to appreciate where they stand while looking directly at those beneath them.” Hence the reason for the return of your panties, he added silently. Being able to see down meant others were able to see up. Marko had never been good at sharing.

  Releasing a slow breath, he also silently and unwillingly acknowledged that he would give her anything she needed to be fulfilled. Including sharing her, even if it didn’t meet his needs.

  “Let’s go. The second floor awaits.” He directed her to enter the stairwell ahead of him, and marveled at the ease in which she managed the numerous flights.

  He reviewed the attractions on the second floor, pointed to the historical landmarks, allowed her a few more minutes for pictures, and headed to the front of the line for the lift.

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” he said, once the attendant nodded for them to enter.

  Nobody seemed to notice their obvious shortcut, but neither did he care if they did. He wanted the tour done and Kat to himself. The elevator doors closed and they rode to the top of the Eiffel Tower with only a recorded female voice for company.

  “Do you know Gabriel?”

  Her sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts. Shit, he royally sucked. Here was Kat, willing to share one of her life’s dreams with him, and he was rushing her through the experience so he could get her in his bed.