A Single Girl's Guide to Paris (Single Girl Series Book 1)

by Raven Gale

  "Just leave me here. I think I'm dead. Or I could be broken." She laughs.

  "So much for eating," I mumble as I walk away to the bathroom. I turn on the shower before returning. She is right where she was, and the sight of her pussy glistening with our combined juices has my cock twitching. Fucking hell, will I never get enough of her? I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor. Unhooking her bra, I pull it from her limp arm, chuckling at her groans to be left alone to recover.

  I wrap my arms around her and lift her. She starts to protest, but I kiss her into silence, carrying her into the shower. I let her slide down my front and hold her until she is steady on her feet.

  Chapter 16

  I stand leaning against his hard body, my fingers drifting over the tattoos that cover his arm and chest. One wraps around his side and disappears on his back. He feathers kisses along my jaw to my ear.

  "I can't get enough of you. What are you doing to me?"

  "What am I doing to you?" I ask incredulously. The man has destroyed me for all others, and I leave tomorrow afternoon. My heart stutters. I know nothing of him, and I'm suddenly glad that I don't. If I knew more, I would fall hard and fast. "I think you were doing it to me." I make the pathetic joke to mask my need.

  He turns me and moves my hands to the wall, then reaches for the soap and lathers his hands. I let my head fall forward. The hot water cascades over me, loosening my muscles as his slick hands roam over every inch of me. I'm lost in the sensations when he pulls me back against him. His cock is hardening again, and I smile at the prospect of having him once more. He has other plans though, and I moan as his fingers start to gently massage my scalp, working shampoo in to it. I finally muster the will to move away from him and turn to face him, rinsing my hair out as he stands staring, transfixed on my breasts. He quickly washes as I watch him, his hand lingering on his erection, stroking over it. My mouth waters.

  Never have I wanted a man this much. He unlocks things from deep within me. I like that he takes control. I want him to have control. When I tear my eyes off his dick, I notice that he is watching me, eyes half closed in lust. He leans forward, claiming my lips, and I melt into him, threading my fingers through his hair to pull him closer. He reaches behind us and shuts off the water before breaking the kiss. I stand dazed for a moment before taking the towel he hands me. I dry off slowly, my body so sensitive that even the fabric of the towel seems sensual in some way. He does everything with efficiency, and this is no different with the towel around his hips as he walks out of the bathroom. I feel bereft as I wrap my own towel around me, knotting it so it keeps me covered.

  I pause at the door and watch him as he uncovers the food. He looks up, maybe he feels my eyes on him. Suddenly, I'm unsure, but how, I have no idea. My gaze drifts to the couch, and I feel my face flush. When I look back at him, he is grinning, and it is gorgeous. The man is lethal. He holds out his hand as I walk to his side. He leans down and kisses me gently, pouring himself into me. His hands frame my face, and they too are gentle. I can't take that from him right now, and I break away. I smile to hide my fear. He looks at me, and I can see the question there in his eyes, mixed with a bit of hurt.

  "Why don't we eat? We certainly worked up an appetite." He nods and pulls out my chair, before moving to his own. He lets me get away with my deflection. We eat and chat, tension building between us. I don't know what to say or how to feel. I'm trying my best not to get attached, to not break my own heart. He tells me a little about his work, but most of it is private, sealed away behind nondisclosure agreements. I can tell it is dangerous. I know I will worry about this man in the future. I will look at reports of Americans being killed in foreign countries more closely, making sure I don't see his name. We finish, and he rises, crossing to his closet. Reaching in, he pulls out a t-shirt and brings it to me, sliding it over my head. I put my arms in and stand, pulling it down. I release the towel and let it fall to the floor. The shirt goes halfway down my thighs and smells of him. It is soft on my skin. I run my fingers over the faded missing in action emblem on it. I had wondered about the military aspect of his life. My finger runs over the tattoo on his forearm, and I look at him waiting.

  "Seal." That one word speaks volumes. I've never known one before, but who hasn't seen the reports or watched the movies? That's a hard life, one hard on families and on relationships. He's watching me, watching for my reaction.

  "Impressive. I don't know much about it, other than what's in the movies. "

  "Well, it's not like the movies. All the people that work at the company are ones I met or fought beside while I was active duty. All are operators."

  Only because of those movies do I understand what that means, scenes flash through my head. Scenes of death and dying, of patriotism and brotherhood. I move into him, wrapping my arms around him. Only the towel wrapped around his hips and his thread worn shirt separate us, and I soak in the heat of him. I caress my fingers over the tattoos that have dominated my mind since I saw them, memorizing them. My fingers slow and then stop as I discover that at least some of them cover scars. Turning my head, I look at his rib where my hand lies and study the ancient warrior painted there, his face is bisected by a scar, a scar that belongs to Carter. It is both beautiful and a bit sad. The art lover in me in amazed by the artist work.

  "Ares, God of war," he murmurs, and I look up into his eyes. They are filled with pride and a hint of sadness, and it makes me wonder about his scars, this one and the others. In that moment of seeing his emotion, my apprehension of what I should feel tonight drifts away. I no longer worried about my heart. As my hands find more scars gliding over the colorful ink, I only want to bring him comfort and bring us both pleasure.

  I reach for his hand and lead him to the bed. Pulling back the covers, I climb in and beckon him to join me. I don't look away as he drops the towel and stands watching me for a moment. He has washboard abs and the vee at his waist. What is it about that vee? Why is that thing so damn mesmerizing?

  He lays down facing me, and for just a moment, we just look at each other. I reach for the sheet and pull it over us as I roll over him, laying myself over all of him. His arms come around me, tightening for just a second before settling at my waist, just holding me.

  This will be no frenzied fucking. We will take our time. I begin my exploration of his body. My hair brushes over him and his hands are drawn to it. He pulls my lips to mine, a slow assault. His lips are gentle, and it is the type of kiss that could go on forever, a make out kiss. After what seems likes hours, I break away. I slide my hands up his arms, linking my hands with his. I feel him hardening beneath me, and I move to sit up, my core positioned over him, letting him feel the wetness.

  I pull his hands from me and slide them over his head, watching his face to see if this time he will let me take control. His eyes narrow for a moment before he settles his arms. I let go and wait to see if he keeps them there.

  "Stay still," I whisper. I don't add that I just want to make a wonderful memory for us both. I bend back and brush a kiss on his mouth, catching his lower lip in my teeth and tugging it gently. I slowly move to his neck and start my slow exploration of every inch of him. I push him to his breaking point, and still, he lays beneath me, muscles twitching but letting me have my way. After I'm satisfied that I will remember all the intricate tattoos, I move lower and run my tongue and teeth over that mind numbing vee. I glance up, and I see his hands are fisted in the pillow, his jaw tight, and I smile.

  The smile breaks what little control he has left. His hands come down, and he grips my arms, pulling me up to his mouth, and again we kiss, slow and long. He too is in no rush now. He rolls us to our sides and slides into me slowly, and I sigh. His exploration is just as slow. He takes his time, our bodies move languidly. For some reason, I think of hot, humid summer days. His hands are moving constantly over my skin. We both climb at a slow, steady pace until I feel my orgasm beginning, his thrusts turning more urgent as he turns my head to kiss m
e. When it breaks over me, my entire body shudders and tenses, and my soul is changed. Still, he kisses me.

  We fall asleep wrapped around each other, him still buried in me. I'll worry about my heart later is my last thought before I slip away.

  Chapter 17

  I hear my phone and slowly ease from the warmth of her body. I pick it up and read the text. My head turns back to her. I hate to leave her. I know this is it. She wanted a fling in Paris, and so did I, so why is this so hard? I ease up and move to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly. I shower quickly, my thoughts on the woman in my bed. By the time I'm done today, she will be on a plane home. The thought makes me angry, and I don't like it. I grab my clothes and dress in the dark. I write her a short note instead of saying what I really want to.

  I kiss her cheek, and she sighs in her sleep. It's all I can do to walk out that door. In the elevator, I wonder how I let this happen. I know next to nothing about her, but still, I feel a need for her. The picture of her over me, exploring me, plays on a loop in my head. I didn't miss the look in her eyes when she found my scars. There was sympathy and a need to soothe but fuck, there was also worry and fear. Not fear of me but fear of the danger I live in. My fist hits the wall just as the doors slide open. I've seen too many women destroyed by that fear. No, it's better that she goes on with her sweet, simple life. I'll be a great story she'll tell her friends. A memory of lust that she'll pull up when she needs to.

  I get in the car and drive to the safe house. Everyone is there... Waiting. They all turn and look when I enter, nodding before they get back to work. Only Joe keeps his eyes on me, assessing. We met in training and have been together since. He is my best friend, and he knows me too well. Questions and concern fill his face, but I shake my head slightly, not willing to get into it in front of everyone.

  "What have we got?" I ask briskly, as I move forward.

  Bot's voice rings out over a speaker, "I found her."

  "The wife?" Jacques growls.

  "Yeah, it's not what we thought. She ran and changed her name. She's hiding from her family. Her father specifically. He was an officer in the Serbian army, and you guessed it, did fucking horrible things. She ran while the war was still raging, disappeared. She made it here to France somehow and changed her name. From what I've listened to, she changed her accent to French and left her past behind."

  "Does her husband know?" Travis asks.

  "Honestly, I can't tell."

  "Yes, he knows."

  We all turn as one, weapons ready. She is standing in the doorway. Her face is haunted by the images Bot has sent through, images of her father's crimes. Nick walks to her. He gives the sweetest, least threatening vibe, but don't let it fool you, he is lethal. His specialty is knives, and he just moved within striking distance.

  It's going to be a long day. I turn, taking Bot off speaker and move away. I give him instructions that he doesn't need, the dog, the threats, everything. Someone else recognized her. Until last year, she had stayed out of the light. The media had been happy with just her husband, but when they made a stand against human trafficking, using their influence with hundreds of huge corporations, she was suddenly thrust into the limelight.

  "This is because of me, isn't it?" she laments, tears filling her huge chestnut eyes.

  None of us answer, but she knows already. Guilt fills her entire body, and she curls in on herself. Nick pulls her to a chair gently and pushes her down as we work to find those that threaten her and her family. Now we have a target, and we won't stop until we stop them.

  Chapter 18

  I know he is gone before I open my eyes. My body knows. I run my hand over the cooled sheets and let last night's memories play through my head. He had been fierce and controlling. He had also been gently and giving. He was a beautiful mix of hard and soft. Today is going to be hard. I will stick with the plan, a fling in Paris. He has asked for no more than that. It is exactly what I asked him for. Can you fall for someone in three days? Three nights?

  I force myself to roll over, and I see a piece of paper on his pillow.

  Ember,

  These nights have been amazing. I wish we had more time. I hope Paris lived up to your expectations. I hope you think of me, as I know I will think of you. Stay as long as you want. Something happened with my clients, and I don't know when I'll be done. If I don't make it back before you leave, just know that I'm so glad fate put us in the same hotel.

  If you're ever in Denver, look me up.

  Carter

  I lie staring at the ceiling, willing myself not to cry. I know I will later, but for now, I just want to savor our time together. I slowly sit up and glance at the clock; it's nine a.m. I scheduled nothing for today. I knew I'd have too much to do. I should go get breakfast, but I don't want to leave this bed, let alone this room, not yet. I jump when a knock echoes through the room.

  "Room service." The voice is muffled but clear. He ordered breakfast. I will not cry. I climb to my feet and pull his shit down covering myself as I pad to the door, pausing to draw a breath and push down my turmoil.

  "Hi."

  "Mademoiselle. The gentleman thought you might want some breakfast." Her face is kind, and she smiles a gentle knowing smile, one that should embarrass me but doesn't. I wave my arm for her to bringing the cart. She clears the things from last night and takes them with her as she goes.

  I sit and look at the food. A single tear run down my face at his thoughtfulness. I eat the food slowly, savoring the flavors. When I'm done I look around sighing, I have to leave, but God, I wish I could stay. Stay and wait for him. I stand and gather my things, pulling on my skirt. I ready myself for the walk of shame, but I feel no shame not for taking what I wanted, what I needed. I clutch his shirt to me, drawing in his scent. I plan to leave it, I really do, but I don't. I make my way to my room, and once inside, I stand looking around. My phone rings and I grab it.

  "What am I going to do?" I know its Valerie, I don't need to look.

  "Oh babe, you're going to be fine. I know you don't think so, but you will. And if he's the one and not just some guy you hook up with on vacation, then it will work out. Just remember, he was at that hotel." Her words echo his note.

  "Thanks. I just needed to hear that I'm not crazy for feeling like this."

  "Of course not. I'm not going to ask you about last night because I want to see your face. I'm coming over, I'll be waiting for you at your place when you get back. I already told Peter he just had to get over it." I grin. Peter and I have a weird relationship: I love him, but he tolerates me. I'm okay with that.

  We talk for a bit more and then hang up. I look around and decide to shower quickly before I start packing. It's almost lunch time, and my plane leaves at four. I need to get moving. I'll have to eat at the airport.

  Chapter 19

  I make it just in time to the airport. Thankfully though, security was moving fast. I board my flight and once in my seat, I allow my feelings to break free. I'll admit I looked for him in the crowds and I know I will do that in every airport. I'm no good at one-night stands or vacation flings. Or maybe it's just that I'm not good at it with him. Somewhere over the Atlantic, after the tears, I make a decision I'm going to savor this time with him. I will look at it as the gift it was. I have never felt as beautiful as I did with him. I've never been felt as sexy as I did as he ran his hand and eyes over my body as it was bare to him.

  He unlocked needs in me that I never knew I had, desires that no one had ever stoked. He showed me what I hunger for, and I am choosing to be thankful for that. I'm hopeful that I will find it again someday.

  Valerie's car is parked outside my townhouse, and she rushes out to greet me. Wrapping me in her arms, she asks, "How are you doing, hun?"

  I pull just far enough away to look into her eyes, so she knows I'm telling the truth. "I'm really good. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to miss him. Hell, I'm going to be ate up with thoughts of him and the things we did, but I'll be okay."

&
nbsp; She stares at me for a moment before nodding, "Good. I knew you would be. Now let's get inside so you can tell me everything. And I mean everything."

  We spend the evening talking, and she listens to it all. Every detail. At the end, she sighs. Yep, I couldn't agree more. She leaves after breakfast the next morning, and I'm left with my thoughts. I could wallow, but I have a blog to write. I sit down and pour all my feelings into my post, wrapping those for him and the city together. It is a love letter to Paris. A thank you to the city that brought me those nights with him.

  Chapter 20

  It has been one month since I left Paris. Thoughts of him and those hours wrapped up in him fill all of my nights and a lot of my days. I've been to a couple of cities since but I dream of Paris, swirls of colors and him filling every inch of me, laying me bare.

  I glance at my computer and push publish, updating my blog and letting my readers know my next big trip is scheduled. Venice, a dream come true. I smile at the pictures of the city I have set as the background on my laptop before glancing up at the Van Gogh reproduction that hangs on my bedroom wall.

  I begin to pack, all the while looking at my computer as the slideshow that the hotel sent me plays over the screen. The Hotel Palazzo seems amazing, right on the Canal and the views are breathtaking. One week and I'll be on a plane to The City of Bridges. Maybe, just maybe, it can get my mind off the man who I will never see again.

  I turn and stare into my closet, thinking about what I should bring. My text alert on my phone pulls me from my thoughts, and I cross to my bed, grabbing it. I figure it is Valerie wanting to add to her list of things I should get her while in Italy. I'm grinning when I look down, but slowly the grin fades, and my eyes widen. Swallowing, I open the message.