Paris with the Billionaire

“I can’t believe I haven’t been up there yet,” she says.

Nerves flare inside of me.

I don’t want her to go there, not yet, not until I make all the necessary arrangements.

“Be patient,” I tell her. “You’ll stand at the top soon enough. But just wait. That’s an order.”

“An order?” she says. “So you really are the boss of me.”

“I own you,” I growl. “Don’t let my nice guy act make you forget that.”

“An act?” she giggles. “There I was thinking you really were a nice, harmless gentleman.”

“I’m doing my best to be a gentleman with you,” I snarl. “But the way that dress hugs your body has got me thinking some very ungentlemanly things. Goddamn, Fiona, you really have no idea how badly I need to palm those breasts, to pull them out and suck on your needy pink nipples until you’re gasping and begging for mercy. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

She bites her lip, making a moaning sound that goes directly to the base of my manhood.

“I want it,” she moans. “I want all of it. I think …”

“Go on,” I snarl, my chest rumbling. “Say it, Fiona.”

“I think maybe I want to try tonight,” she says, her voice so breathy, the same way it’ll be when I plunge balls-deep inside of her and take her virginity like the wild beast I am.

“You better mean it when you say that,” I growl, gripping the edge of the table as lust barrels through me, making my hands shake and the cutlery trembles metallically together. “Because when I take that fresh untouched pussy, I won’t be able to stop.”

She grips the table, both of us staring at each other, into each other, as though we’re going to leap across the dinnerware and claim each other right here.

“I want that so badly,” she breathes. “Tonight—tonight, Forrest. Just don’t be disappointed if I don’t live up to your expectations.”

“Just be there and be naked and be adorable – which should be easy for you – and I wouldn’t dream of being disappointed. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. Now, enough stressing. It’s snail time.”

“Snails for Breakfast,” she giggles, sitting back, causing her breast to jiggle alluringly. “I’m telling you, Forrest, that’s got bestseller written all over it.”

“I believe you,” I tell her fiercely, ignoring her joking tone. “You’re going to shock the world. I’ve got no doubt of that.”

“Do we eat it with the shells on?” she says, looking down at our plates.

I can’t help it. I throw my head back and laugh. It feels so good to have this release, to be able to let out all the anxiety and concern caused by that fucking rat Zack Sykes.

I never dreamed I’d be sitting on a Parisian rooftop with the woman of my dreams, laughing about snails, but here we are.

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

“Hey,” she says, pouting even as she giggles along with me. “If you keep laughing, I might have to shower you in snails.”

“I’m sorry,” I smirk. “It’s just such a cute, naïve, you question, Fiona. No, my little firecracker, we don’t eat them with the shells on. Apart from anything else, I can imagine that would be quite painful.”

“Yeah, good point,” she laughs.

“We dig them out with these,” I say, gesturing with the fork. “And then—have at it.”

“Okay,” she says, biting her lip, staring down at the escargots as though she’s contemplating a serious life decision.

Her earnestness enflames something deep inside of me.

I can so easily imagine her bringing the same sincerity and sense of importance to our children, tackling every step of their progression with this sparkling intensity.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she smiles.

“I was thinking about what a great mother you’re going to make,” I tell her.

“Really?” she murmurs. “Because of some snails?”

“Because of you,” I growl passionately. “Because of the way you approach everything in life—fully, not ashamed to get sucked in and give it your all. You have no idea how beautiful you look when you’re concentrating.”

“Is that why …”

She trails off, biting her lip.

“I couldn’t stop watching you every weekend in the café?” I fill in for her.

She laughs, nodding.

“I love how well you can read my mind,” she says.

And I love you, I want to roar, but something rises up inside of me to stop the declaration, even if it would be the truest thing I’ve ever said.

Even if things are moving quickly between us, I need to be careful that I don’t push her too far and frighten her.

What if she didn’t say it back? Would it ruin us?

I can’t risk what we’ve already built, not yet.

“Yes,” I tell her. “That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t stop watching you. You get these cute-as-fuck dimples when you’re concentrating.”

“What? Do I?”

I nod and reach across the table, laying my forefinger softly against her cheek.