I’d love to say I went to the hotel and relaxed, then made my way to Rue Cler. . . had a glass of Rosé at the ultra-famous Cafe Fiore, hiked up to the Sacre Cour for sunset, climbed the steps of Norte Dame to take in the view and see the gargoyles up close, but all that would be bullshit.
I’m with the Sawyer brothers and their delinquent freestyle riding friends. How do you think my time spent in Paris that afternoon and evening went?
Like this.
We went to a steak house where we meet up with other riders who are part of this freestyle event we’re here for. Apparently it’s to lead up to the world tour finals in Madrid this fall.
Shade wears his sunglasses like a little punk until I glare at him. “Take them off. There’s no reason to wear them in here, and it’s disrespectable.”
He’s sitting across from me and smiles, just one side slightly higher than the other but doesn’t say anything. He waits approximately five minutes while three bottles of wine are delivered to the table and what they tell me is snails, something I will not be eating.
When I raise my glass of wine to my lips, Shade removes his sunglasses and tucks them into his T-shirt.
Beside me sits another rider, one with shaggy strawberry-blond hair and tattoos like the rest of them. I’m beginning to understand these guys spend most of their time either riding or in a tattoo parlor.
“I’m Reece,” he tells me, giving me a nod, his bright green eyes shining under his black hat he has pulled down low. “Who are you?”
“I’m Scarlet Rose.” I motion to Shade across from me, and Roan and Tiller who are sitting at opposite ends of the table for good reason. “I’m their personal assistant. Filling in for Willa while she’s on maternity leave.”
“She’s with me,” Tiller notes, reaching across the table for the bottle of wine and drinking straight from the bottle.
I don’t know why, but my eyes dart from Tiller’s to Shade’s. Maybe because I want to see his reaction. His jaw clenches, but nothing else. He’s not even paying much attention. He’s having a conversation with the guy seated next to him.
I glance at Tiller next, shooting him a glare. “No, I’m not. I don’t see how your dick hasn’t fallen off.”
Reece laughs lightly, bringing his own glass of wine to his lips. He takes a drink and then reaches for a snail. I nearly vomit and have to look away if he’s going to eat it. “Why would you take a job with these jerkoffs?”
I refuse to look at him. “I’m still trying to figure that out, but it was better than working at the hotel.”
“What’d you do there?” he asks.
Tiller pipes up with, “Maid,” before I can say anything.
I down my wine and then refill the bottle. “Actually, I worked the front desk.”
Shade cocks his head to the side. “You were a maid?”
He apparently wasn’t paying attention during my interview with him and Willa where I mentioned that, but I shouldn’t expect much else, should I? He doesn’t remember we had sex either.
The small talk and wine drinking continue and I have quite possibly the best steak ever and enough bread to bloat me for the next month. It’s the wine, I’m sure of it, but they somehow convince me to go to the catacombs with them.
I voice my opinion many times with, “I don’t want to go.
All the while, I’m dragged along by Tiller saying, “Don’t be a pussy.”
“No one calls me a pussy,” the five glasses of wine in me shouts. “Let’s do this.”
The tour guide, who could have been a criminal for all I know, leads us down the tunnels, seems nervous and shifty if you ask me, but I think it has something to do with the fact that we’re probably not supposed to be down here. It’s midnight.
Do you know what catacombs are?
In short, it’s where bones and mummies are.
The catacombs of Paris are underground ossuaries. They hold the remains of more than six million people.
It’s located in the Barriere d’Enfer which is called The Gate of Hell. And that my friends, to me, translates into stay the fuck out as far as I’m concerned. They don’t see it that way though.
We wander around the catacombs, looking at the ancient carcasses and mummified corpses. Some of the mummies sit alone, others are surrounded by skulls. Some of the skulls have a single hole. I know how that dude died.
Shade’s ahead of me, Tiller and Roan there somewhere, and I’m scared out of my mind. It’s dark, and the tunnels make me feel like I’m running from Hitler in a maze, only wrong country, I know.
The entire experience screams bad idea.
Just when I’m thinking of telling them I want to leave, Shade drops back and walks with me. “What’s the matter?”
My voice literally trembles when I say, “If my nightmare of dying were real, it’s this place.”
He’s amused, bright-blue eyes shining like a little boy sensing his opening. “You scared?”
I glance at him like he’s lost his mind. “This is creepy.”
He lowers his voice, purposely trying to be mysterious. “It’s spiritual.” There’s a trace of laughter in his tone I should pay attention to, but don’t. Probably because one, I’m freezing—it’s cold down under Paris—and two, Shade can be a shithead, if you haven’t figured that out already.
I try to assess him, see if he’s bullshitting me but he’s a closed book of straight-faced. “Is it really?”
His shoulders shake, laughter rolling through him. “Fuck if I know. But you’re not thinking about it anymore.”
Nope. I’m thinking about you and me and the two of us being naked.
“True.”
To my surprise, he throws his arm around my shoulders. “Stay close. I’ll protect you.”
My entire body heats, which is nice given the drafty air down here. “Says the lion to the lamb.”
His arm tightens around me and I can feel his breathing, his eyes boring into mine. “I’m assuming I’m the lion.” His stare lifts as he winks. “But looking at your hair today, it could be you.”
I try to shake off his arm. “Fuck you. It’s humid down here.”
He only holds me tighter when I shiver. “Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
“You know the best way to make body heat is friction.”
This time I do shake him off and attempt to walk ahead of him.
He doesn’t allow it and grabs me by the elbow. “You weren’t serious, were you?”
I stare down at his hand on my elbow like it’s burning my skin. It feels like it is in that moment because I fucking suck at all of this. “About what?”
“Not wanting to have sex with me.”
No! My mind screams but, “Yep. Serious,” comes out instead.
Do you see his face? The scrunch to his beautiful features, the curiosity in his eyes? He’s never been told no before. I bet you none of the Sawyer boys have been.
With a subtle shake of his head, he keeps step with me. The guys have gotten way ahead of us, and I do not want to get lost in the catacombs with Shade because I know damn well what will happen. I’ll give in, have sex with him, and then we’ll die the next day for doing something naughty where dead people are peacefully resting.
“Not trying to be an asshole but why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t want to.” I keep walking. Suddenly I want out of these tunnels. Sooner rather than later. “It’s a free country.”
“We’re not in America.”
“Last time I checked, France was too.”
He stops me, backs me up against a stone wall. I check to make sure it’s not one with a skull on it and thankfully it’s not. “That’s not good enough.”
My bewildered eyes notice the genuine curiosity in his. “Why is that not enough of an answer?”
“No one has ever said no.”
“Guess you’re not number one then, huh?”
For a second, I catch Shade off guard, and he blinks, twice. Then laughs. Full on laughs. “Oh fuck off. I am too.” His arm goes around my shoulders again. “You’re going to eventually.”
“You know, this is just a theory here,” I begin, never wanting his arm to part from around my shoulders. I’d like it there forever. “If you want me to at least like you, I wouldn’t be so mean.”
His head twists and the action puts his lips dangerously close to my ear. “When have I been mean to you?”
“The airport.”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “That’s because I was cranky. My helmet’s like a good luck charm to me.”
“I get it, but you weren’t very nice.”
There’s a smirk being held at bay. I can barely see it in the low lighting, but it’s there. “If you have sex with me, I’ll be really nice to you.”
Uh huh, and you’d pull out and tell me to leave my number. “Moving onto bribery already?”
“If it gets me to home plate. . . ” He pauses, shrugs, and it’s motherfucking adorable. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Let’s stop right here. Pause on this guy’s face. His words, his demeanor, they’re all pointing toward him liking me, right?
Um no, are you crazy? This is the Shade Sawyer trying to work his magic. He doesn’t remember that we’ve already slept together and he thinks I’m fresh bait.
I remember though, and this is another reason, other than that pesky contract, that I’m turning him down. Is it wrong to make him squirm a little?
If you said yes, shame on you. Do you not recall the total shit in the airport throwing a fit over a helmet?
Okay, now back to what he said. Bribes. Here’s what comes out of my mouth in a reply. “Shade, you slide right past home plate and to the bullpen.”
We stop walking. Because he makes us. Stops us dead in our tracks, something I do not want to do in these fucking catacombs. It’s creepy in here. I bet this place is where the director of Saw got the idea for the movie.
Enough about Saw. Do you see the way Shade’s eyes narrow in the dim light and focus on me, then my curls as he twirls one around his finger? He does not like the answer.
“Where’s Tiller?” someone asks, and I hadn’t realized it, but we’re back at the entrance or the hole we climbed in. There was no entrance because we snuck in through a fucking hole.
I step back from Shade and distance myself from his body heat drawing me in. “That seems to be the magical question today.”
Shade glances around, as does Roan. “Fuck if I know. He was with that chick he met at the restaurant.”
We find him an hour later with the girl. They apparently went down a wrong tunnel.
My ass they did. They went and fucked in the creepy tunnels.
I have one final assessment. A tour through corpses in an ancient burial ground isn’t my idea of fun.
Back at the hotel, Shade tries again. Willa was right, he’s relentless, and though I find it incredibly entertaining, I play my game tight.
He starts out by leaning into the wall beside my room with his shoulder, hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “I think you should let me come in with you, to check the room. I mean, what if there’s a skull in there?”
“Nope,” I say immediately, sticking my keycard in the door and then sliding it back out. The light flashes green and then I open it about an inch. “I’m not even scared anymore.”
Lie. I totally am.
“Yeah, right.” He snorts, smiling at me.
Do you see him there? Christ, he’s trying hard, isn’t he? Is your heart pounding in your chest like mine? It’s not easy to ignore him like this. In fact, I can feel my body weakening under his stare. It’s intent, like he’s either trying to figure me out or he thinks he has Jedi mind powers. Which, by the way, he does because do you notice the way my body involuntarily leans into him? Do you notice the way my lips pucker?
Okay, maybe my lips don’t actually pucker, but goddamn it, I want to kiss him so badly they’re nearly puckering.
I know, enough with the pucker. It’s such a gross word anyway, but all the puckering talk reminds me of the other night when he was kissing someone, and it wasn’t me. I’m reminded of the way he watched me as if it had been done purposely. And now he wants me?
I cross my arms over my chest. “Who was that girl you were kissing the other night?”
Shade blinks twice, and then a smirk presents itself on his full, perfect lips. His tongue darts out, again, the metal on his tongue ring catching the lights in the hall way. My eyes are drawn to his mouth and the memory of the way his lips felt closing around my nipples the night we were together.
A shiver works its way through my body, and I fight the urge to tremble in front of him, my legs shifting involuntarily and I find myself leaning into the door that I now have open. I back up two steps, inside the room now, but I don’t close the door.
Shade moves to the doorway, his hands raising to either side of the frame and he leans in, as if the action is automatic for him.
There we are, nearly face-to-face when his brows pull together and he asks, “What girl?” Heavy eyelids slowly shut as he leans in another inch, a blast of warmth exploding through my body. I’m on unsteady legs, shaking. Quick, I’m going down. Save me, mind!
“Well, you seem to be awfully determined on getting in my room, but what about that skank you were lip-locked with? Won’t she care?”
“Probably not considering I don’t remember her. But. . . ” He pauses, leans in, closer and pulls his bottom lip inside his mouth before releasing it slowly. “I’m very kissable.”
My mind’s a fuzzy mess. He’s like an intoxicating presence you never saw coming. Like carbon monoxide. And then bam, you’re dead before you know it. “You seem to forget a lot.”
He laughs lightly. “I wouldn’t forget you.”
Bull-fucking-shit you wouldn’t. He did! And you pulled out!
“I’m tired.” And then I slam the door in his face, silently praying he moved his hands and I didn’t smash them in the door. I wait for him to say something, but nothing comes aside from a thump, and a groan which I assume is his head hitting the door in frustration.