“Non, Chèr. Home is wit’ me.” He said it with such infuriating confidence. It was like he expected me to just pack a suitcase full of artisanal cheeses and follow him to... well, I had no clue where ‘wit’ me’ was. Possibly a secluded island populated entirely by alligators and French bulldogs.
I turned and looked at the big bohunk.
God damn it to hell! He was still handsome enough to make a Greek statue blush. Thick black locks, the kind that would probably attract stray birds looking for nesting material, and eyes the color of a summer sky just before a hurricane. It actually hurt my eyes to look at something so beautiful, mostly because the contrast with the rest of my life was so stark.
Regardless of his awesomeness, I blurted out, “I am not going anywhere with you.”
“Pauvre ti bête.” He smiled, leaning closer with a predatory grace that was both terrifying and weirdly alluring. He boxed me in, his presence radiating a potent blend of charm and menace. It was like being trapped in a romantic thriller written by a particularly sadistic librarian.
Fuck me. I almost swooned. The man had the power of suggestion down to an art form. Fucker knew I enjoyed hearing him speak those French sweet nothings. Had no fucking clue what he was saying half the time, but they sure sounded purdy coming from those lips. It’s like he was speaking the language of pure, unadulterated temptation.
Wait a damn minute and hold the front fucking door!
What did he just say?
“Hold on,” I said, inching away, only slightly because, damn it all, he still had that aura of delicious danger about him. “If you’ve missed me so much, why are you wearing that ridiculous suit?” The bold yellow and purple plaid number was something only a crazy person or a fashion icon would wear, and I knew for a fact he was neither.
His smile widened, showing off a set of perfectly straight, suspiciously white teeth.
“You always did have an eye for fashion,Bébé. I knew you’d notice.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion growing. “Notice what? That you’re dressed like an extra from a bad disco movie? Or that you’re standing there, spouting nonsense about me going home with you when you know damn well I’m not leaving my spaghetti Eiffel Tower unfinished?”
“Ah, but,Bébé, you know you can’t resist me. And deep down, you know it’s time to come home.” His voice dropped to a low purr and damn if my knees didn’t weaken just a little.
“I—” I began, but then I caught myself. I refused to be swayed by his good looks and that damn accent. “You will not charm me, you manipulative—” I paused, searching for the right word. Something that conveyed the full extent of his manipulative, charming, infuriating ways. “—Cajun guttersnipe!”
He threw back his head and laughed. The sound filled the room and made my heart do an embarrassing little flip. “Oh,Bébé. I love it when you spout sweet nothings. You can run, but you can’t hide from me forever.”
As he leaned forward, I leaned back, my heart pounding.
“I can try,” I muttered, already knowing it was a losing battle.
“Oh, but I think you won’t,ma chérie,” he purred, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that sent a delicious shiver down my spine. I wanted to scoff, to laugh in his face and tell him exactly where he could stick his ridiculous plaid suit and his overinflated ego. But the words lodged in my throat as his gaze held mine, those summer sky eyes boring into my soul.
Damn this man and his infuriating ability to get under my skin.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, crossing my arms and willing my heart to stop its ridiculous fluttering. “You think this is a game? Well, I’m not playing.” I gestured to the half-built tower of spaghetti behind me. “I have important work to do here. My Eiffel Tower needs me.”
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they sounded ridiculous, but I was past the point of caring. He took a step forward, his movements fluid and graceful, like a predator stalking its prey.
“Your tower can wait,Bébé. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time to come home, to the life you were always meant to have.” His voice, thick with promise and a hint of something dangerously seductive, washed over me, and I felt my resolve waver just a little. “You know you can’t resist me forever.”
I gulped. “I can try.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he purred, yanked me toward him, and planted a toe-curling kiss on me that evaporated everything around me as my body betrayed me.
As his lips brushed mine, my heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of desire and fear. I knew I should pull away, but mybody had a mind of its own. His hands, strong and confident, held my face gently as if I were something precious. I felt myself melting into him, my resistance crumbling. Then, as suddenly as it started, he broke away, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You see,Bébé, it’s pointless to deny what we both want.”
I sat there, breathless, my tower and my resolve forgotten. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to follow him, to leave everything behind and step into the unknown life he offered. But something held me back, a nagging voice of caution in the depths of my mind.
I shook my head, my hands balling into fists at my sides.
“I can’t just leave,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I have responsibilities, a life here.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of amusement and challenge. “And what kind of life is that,Bébé? A lonely apartment with no man to warm your bed, a job that you hate. Is that truly what you desire?”
I bit my lip, knowing he had a point.
