by Avery Wilde
“Hey listen,” I said. “Maybe we should just call it?”
Her head snapped up, disappointment but understanding clouding her expression. “Yeah, you’re right,” she finally said. “We should call it a night.”
“What? No!” I interjected quickly. I didn’t want the night to end just yet. “I mean, let’s get out of here.”
Ginny glanced at me, her mouth softening into a smile. “Really? You don’t want to just, you know, give it up? It’s not like this is a proper date, is it? It’s more of a pity date…”
“Hell no, it isn’t a pity date,” I said, reaching into my pocket and throwing a few crisp bills on the table before standing. “Come on, I have an idea. Give me another chance to make this up to you.”
Her smile grew as she stood, grabbing her purse. “OK, one more chance.”
9
Ginny
I followed Damon outside into the crisp night air, glad to be out of that stuffy place. While it had been extremely nice of him to attempt to impress me, I hated every blessed minute of it. The restaurant was beautiful, but way too fancy for a girl like me. And snails? Oh my god, what was he thinking? I can’t believe he thought I would want to eat snails! This night had been a bust from the beginning, but I didn’t want to just let it all end like that, not after that morning or afternoon. He was willing to try, therefore so was I.
Instead of getting the car like I thought he was going to, Damon held up his hand and flagged down a passing taxi instead, opening the door for me to climb in.
“I think we have had enough driving for one day,” he said cheekily. I laughed and climbed in, sliding over so he could climb in as well. The back seat was smaller than normal, and our thighs brushed up against each other, sending an electric spark flowing through my veins as he gave the directions to the driver in French before settling back.
“I’m an idiot, sorry,” he said softly as the cab pulled away from the curb. “I should have asked what you would like to do, instead of ambushing you with all that.”
I took in his handsome face, the same wicked blue eyes that had sent my pulse pounding into overdrive when he’d arrived, and shook my head. “No one has ever attempted to impress me or feed me snails.”
Damon laughed, his arm resting lightly on the back of the seat, his fingers inches away from my bare shoulder. Idly I wondered what would happen if I just sat up and allowed his fingers to skim over my bare skin. Would that same electricity spread throughout my entire body, intensifying with every stroke? Suddenly it was way too hot in the cab.
“Don’t worry,” he finally said. “I won’t attempt to do that again. Is there any other food that you don’t like that I should be aware of? Caviar and snails: check.”
“I wouldn’t call snails a food,” I replied. “Maybe bird food.” I also wanted to say that it didn’t matter what I didn’t like since I had only four days before I had to return to reality, and he would go on with his life as if I didn’t exist, but I held my tongue. Couldn’t I just pretend for those four days that this was something much more? Something much more than a pity-date, no matter his objections? What was the harm? I could live in a fairyland for a little while.
“Blueberries,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “And anything else that was a bug in a former life.”
“Blueberries?” he asked, surprised. “What’s wrong with blueberries?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. They just taste weird.”
“Duly noted,” Damon laughed as the cab pulled up the sidewalk. “Come on, let’s have some fun.”
Intrigued, I climbed out after him and looked up at an expanse of grass with a huge screen at the bottom end, with a grin on my face. “The movies?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Everyone likes the movies, especially outdoor ones and even when they are in French.”
My heart was bursting with adoration for this man. I gave him a smile. “As long as there is popcorn and candy.”
The movie was surprisingly good considering I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. True to his word, Damon got us the biggest tub of popcorn to share, and every time our hands collided, I couldn’t help but feel the sizzle of heat in their wake. The attraction was there. I wasn’t surprised by that at all, but the scenes up on the screen made it a little bit awkward. The film was clearly a romance, full of angst, wanting, and in the end a whole lot of touching. I could feel myself getting hot in the darkness.
Afterwards we walked closer together; his hand brushed up against mine a few times as we exited the park. My head was spinning. What was going to happen next? Would he walk me home under a moonlit Paris sky and kiss me goodnight? I damn well hoped so.
“Damon! Damon!”
Suddenly we were surrounded by an unrelenting stream of screaming girls, all pushing forward to get Damon’s attention and separating us. I found myself outside the circle of girls as Damon’s face broke out into his sexy grin, attempting to talk to them all as they pressed against him. I crossed my arms over my chest, a sudden chill dimming the heat I was feeling only moments ago. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head, suddenly reminding me how different we were.
He was famous and I was, well… I was a bar owner barely making it in life. No future prospects, just a life of obligations and dreariness. Minutes passed where I was forgotten in favor of the clamoring girls, each of them desperate for a photo. I tried to be patient, telling myself he would be done soon, and he would remember the plump, red-haired girl who waited in the shadows for him. But as Damon held up a phone to take another selfie with yet another excited woman, I turned and walked away.
As long as fame wasn’t in the picture, I considered Damon to be just like any other regular guy, but now I could see another side of him, a side I was never going to be a part of. He thrived on the attention. He was a performer, a showman. It was in his blood. Disappointment flooded my body as I started to turn the corner, searching for a cab to take me back to my apartment. If one didn’t turn up soon, I’d grab an Uber, I thought, and get back to reality sooner than expected. Maybe the entire trip should have stayed a dream instead of ending on such a sour note.
“Ginny! Wait up!”
Surprised to hear my voice being called, I turned around to see Damon jogging toward me, the girls nowhere in sight.
“Hey,” he said as he reached my side. “I thought I’d lost you there for a second.”
“I was, I mean, you did,” I stammered, shocked that he was standing next to me. I wouldn’t have held it against him if he’d forgotten all about me already.
“You were going to dump me and leave without saying goodbye?” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Geez, the movie wasn’t that bad.”
I laughed, unsure of what else to do. Why was he here with me instead of back there with his adoring fans? What had I done to cause this wonderful divine intervention? “The movie was wonderful. Thank you for taking me.”
He reached down and grasped my hand in his own, lacing our fingers together. I didn’t have much of a choice, but I wasn’t going to shake his hand away. It felt good. I ceased breathing as I looked at him, not believing that I was holding hands with Damon Holden. I felt like I could literally combust on the spot.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, giving our joined hands a squeeze.
I looked ahead, a stupid grin on my face. Maybe I hadn’t made a mistake in going to Paris.
I nervously stood outside the gate that lead to the stadium. I didn’t have a ticket for the day, and I attempted to peer in between the bars while a wary security guard kept an eye on me.
The previous night had been the absolute best night of my life, even if it hadn’t started out so well, and when Damon had dropped me off at the apartment, telling me to meet him here the next day, I had felt like I was on cloud nine. He didn’t kiss me goodnight, unless a peck on the cheek counted, but it didn’t matter; he wanted to see me again. He wasn’t done with me as I expected him to be, his duty ove
r in return for me helping him out. No, he expressly told me to be outside the stadium at eleven a.m.
No one back home was going to believe it. Hell, I didn’t believe it much myself. Unfortunately, whatever was going on was going to end in a few days, and I couldn’t stop that. I had priorities back home, a living to make, a family to care for. The fairytale was doomed to end soon, and I hated it. I pushed those thoughts aside when I saw his six-foot-three frame jogging towards the entrance, dodging onlookers and fans who did double-takes as he passed them by.
The gate opened, and Damon had a grin on his face as he spied me. “Hey,” he said as he reached me. “Sorry, practice went over.”
“Oh, it’s no problem,” I answered, taking in his still wet hair. “How did it go?”
“Great,” he said. “I think I’m ready for the next match tomorrow.”
“And then Wimbledon?”
He nodded, and I wished I could go to London to see him play again in his next tournament. Scratch that, I wished I could just go with him. Who cared where? “Well, first things first. Let’s see how far I get with this tournament.”
“Of course. Just getting ahead of myself. Wimbledon is my favorite.”
He smiled. “Mine, too.”
We stared at each other and the security guard coughed; the gate was still held open.
“So, what’s on the docket today?”
“Well,” he said, giving me a grin and motioning me to the side, along the sidewalk. “I figured you would want to see some of the sights, and since I’ve been here before, I thought I could be your tour guide.”
“My tour guide?” Didn’t he realize that he was going to get mobbed any place we went? I mean, his face was plastered all over the sports channels this morning, and if the previous evening was anything to go by—flocks of women able to spot him in the dark—then broad daylight would be even worse.
A car pulled up to the sidewalk. “Well, with a slight modification. I’ve made some calls. You’re going to get a hell of a tour today. And I promise we won’t go near snails ever again.”
Shocked that he would go to such lengths for someone like me, I suddenly wanted to kiss him. I mean, no one had ever given that much thought to make my day special, no one. Instead, I gave him a tremendous smile. “Wow, I’m a lucky girl then.”
“My lucky girl.” He reached down and grabbed my hand, his touch feeling familiar to me now. Last night he hadn’t let my hand go until he had dropped me off at my doorstep. And all night, as I lay awake, I’d clung to the heavy feeling of his hand in mine.
“Come on, let’s get started.”
I allowed Damon to lead me to the waiting car—a black town car with tinted privacy windows. A driver in a uniform made up of various shades of gray sat up front. Damon swung the door open and motioned for me to get in. He even did a little bow, as if he were my chauffeur. I slid over on the leather seats so that he could climb in behind me. He’d barely shut the door before the car was gliding into traffic. His hand recaptured mine, and I sat back, totally aware of his touch, my nerves on edge but deliciously so.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, attempting to take my mind off what I really wanted to do, which was have my way with him on this seat. Screw where we were going, screw what the driver up front would think; I didn’t need to see France, I needed to see Damon naked before I went totally and utterly mad.
“It’s a surprise. You will have to wait and see,” he said, his thumb caressing the top of my hand. “Tell me, Ginny, what do you do back home? Where is home, anyway? Florida right?”
“Yes, Florida,” I sighed, thinking I would be happy never to see the place again so long as I was with him. “I actually own a bar. So, I guess that just makes me a simple barmaid, to be honest.”
“Wow,” Damon said, surprise in his voice. “That’s definitely not what I expected you to say. But you’re anything but simple, Ginny.”
I flushed and took a moment to look out the window. Perfectly quaint French streets passing by. I loved Paris.
“Wait, what did you think I did for a living?”
He grinned. “Maybe a therapist or a neurosurgeon? I couldn’t decide.”
“Those are on opposite ends of the spectrum,” I giggled. “Nah, I’m just a drink pusher at Friction.”
His eyebrows rose. “Friction? You’re making that up, right?”
I shook my head, thinking of the name. “It used to be called Doran’s. Typical old Irish bar. But after my father died I changed it to something a bit more modern, thinking it would stick in people’s minds when they visited. It’s not done too badly to be fair, but it has been confused for a strip club a few times, which makes for interesting conversation.”
“I bet so,” Damon chuckled, then his smile faded. “Sorry about your dad.”
I smiled as I thought of my little bar that I’d inherited from my father, how I had taken it and turned it into a semi-profitable business. It wasn’t much, but outside of my family, it was all I had. He would be proud, or at least I hoped he was. “It was a long time ago. But thanks.”
He squeezed my hand reassuringly, and a billion volts of electricity seemed to dart up my arm, heading straight for my heart.
“I am also the queen of a speed-dating event. Or at least I like to think so. We run two-for-one specials those nights because of the crowd.”
“Now that I should come see,” he said. I looked over at him, wishing that this was real, that he was going to actually come see me after this wonderful trip was all over. But we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. I was deluding myself. Once I got on that plane in a few days, I was only going to see him on TV and remember our short time together until my last breath. “You should,” I said softly, unable to help myself.
His eyes darkened, and I held my breath, wishing he would kiss me. Just once. To give me something to keep my bed warm when I was back home. The car stopped, and the moment was broken. Damon gave me a slight grin as he released my hand.
“Come on,” he said, opening the door. “We’re here.”
I stepped out of the car and gasped as I saw the massive structure before me. “It’s the Eiffel Tower,” I breathed. Of course it was on my bucket list to visit while I was here, but after yesterday, I worried that if I got back into that rental car, I wouldn’t survive the ride next time.
“It’s even more spectacular at the top,” Damon said, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go and check it out.”
I sighed as I leaned against the railing, taking in the view. “This is crazy,” I said, the wind ruffling my hair. “Never would I have expected it to look like this.”
Damon stood close beside me, our very own guide leaving us alone to enjoy the spectacular view. We were on a side away from the tourists, just the two of us allowed to wander along the small section of the deck. I had already taken a ton of pictures with my phone, even one of me and Damon with the city as the backdrop. It would be a picture that I would treasure forever, not caring that my hair was flying around my head or that my eyes were squinted a bit. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome,” Damon answered as I turned toward him. “It’s the least I can do.”
I gave him a tender smile, not believing this was happening to me. I was in the most romantic city, on the Eiffel Tower, with not only my favorite tennis player of all time but also a truly great guy. “It’s way more than you needed to do. You could’ve just sent flowers or something. Though I’m still not sure why you needed to thank me.”
With my back against the railing, he stepped closer and I felt the frisson of excitement and tension crackle around us. My breath ceased to exist as he reached out and tucked my flying hair behind my ear, his fingers trickling down my cheek softly. I was going to melt like brie, through the deck and down the metal frame if he got any closer.
“You know why, and it’s not just because you’re my lucky charm. It’s because ever since I crashed into you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your eyes
and the way they sparkle. Or your lips and how much I want to kiss you. You’re beautiful, Ginny,” he said softly.
10
Damon
I needed to kiss her. In that moment, nothing else would do. She looked perfect standing there, her eyes shining with excitement, her wild red hair floating around her as if it were a halo. I wanted to make sure she remembered the moment forever.
I cupped her cheek with my hand. Her eyes fluttered closed. My other hand snaked around her waist and pulled her close. She let out a tiny gasp, almost inaudible, but her lips popped open. Just that tiny movement of her mouth made me instantly hard. I wanted to devour her right there and then.
With her eyes still closed, I brushed my lips over hers, teasing and tasting her; her cherry lip-gloss sweet on my tongue. She sighed and I deepened the kiss, nibbling at her lower lip before she gasped—louder this time—and I swept in, my tongue doing a serious dance with hers. Suddenly I couldn’t get enough. My hands found her hips and brought her even closer, my erection pressing into her curves. Not for an age did I release her mouth. We didn’t need air. The heat and passion was enough to sustain us. The intensity and urge to take her right there and then grew in my mind; like a neon sign, the thought demanded my attention.
I squeezed her ass, pulling on her cheeks, wishing for once that she’d been wearing that floaty skirt again. Something more accessible than the pair of tight jeans she had on. I wanted to slip my hand between her wet folds, part them, and bury my cock within her. She squeaked out a surprise moan as I slid a hand up her torso to her breast.
“I want you. Right here. Right now,” I groaned. On the top of the tower. If only she would let me, but she deserved more.