Tempt Me: Tattoos and Temptation Book 5

by Mia Monroe

  “Nice car.”

  “Thanks. Are you happy to be back?”

  “So happy. It feels strange though, being in my parents’ house after all this time.”

  His accent is as thick as it was when I first met him. “I can imagine. I don’t think I could shack up with my parents’ again.”

  “I needed a bit of time to acclimate.”

  “Of course. Offer is there to show you around a bit.”

  “I would love that.” He smiles again, and I swear he could light up Miami at night. He was always happy, and I’m glad to see he still is.

  I put the car in gear and back out onto the street. “What was the best part about France?”

  “Oh. Euh.” He hums as he taps his chin, gazing up. “There were many good things. I learned to be independent. I honed my craft and received much acclaim for my work. I think the best part was having the contrast from living in Miami to Paris so I could learn to appreciate them both in different ways.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we came to the United States, I was very sad to leave my home and my friends. It was hard for me to make friends here.”

  “I remember.”

  “Yes. So I wished so much to go back to Paris. I thought I would be much happier there, no?”

  “But you weren’t?”

  “It was a different happiness. I went back to places that as a child were my favorite, and I saw them with adult eyes. I went to new places. I embraced my French-ness, but… How do I say this?”

  I pat his hand. “You don’t have to edit with me.”

  “Thank you.” He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, but then quickly untucks it. “I felt that I had started to be more American than French. It is why I wanted to study in France. After I was there for some time, I realized I like that about myself. I like the parts of me grounded here. I never felt like I was home in Paris. Home is Miami.”

  “That’s interesting. When I went to Greece, I thought I would feel some kind of deeper connection to it. Like I would feel my ancestors or something.”

  “That is not what happened?”

  “Not even close. I was just another tourist on vacation. I was a little disappointed, but I realized even my parents aren’t as connected anymore. They've been gone nearly fifty years. It helped me feel more connected to where I grew up, instead of always thinking I was missing out on something. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Greece, but it wasn’t home.”

  Felix nods. “That is exactly it.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “But now I wish to…” He waves his hands as if fanning himself, while searching for words. “Immerse myself in this culture. I feel foreign again in some ways.”

  “Like what?”

  “I will talk to Lucien, and he will use slang that I have no idea what it means. I slip into French often when I speak.”

  “You’ve been back a day. Cut yourself some slack.”

  He laughs softly, a sweet noise that instantly reminds me of the teenager he was the last time I saw him.

  “Were there any bad parts of being in France?”

  “Oh yes. I found it very hard to make good friends. I had casual friends, the kind always up to go to the club or have a drink, no? But not the kind you could call in the middle of the night or when you wanted to cry into your pillow because you missed your family so much.”

  “Aw. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It was also very hard work. At first, it was so exciting. I had a very good position in a renowned hotel. I proved myself quickly, and I was given the most difficult pastries to create. It was challenging and fun for me.”

  “But?”

  “Quickly, I realized it is a pressure cooker. You cannot rest. Cannot turn your back. Someone is always waiting to take your place. It was too much for me after ten years. I came home for a simpler life.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “I called Briar, and I have an appointment tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome. He’s really great, and the guys there are so much fun. They’ll have you feeling American again, pretty quickly.”

  He laughs again, gazing out the window. “What have you been doing for the past decade?”

  “Oh. Lots.” I make the turn onto the street for the restaurant. “Working mostly. Bought a house. Did some traveling. Just kind of doing my thing.” I find a parking space and shut the car off. “Nothing that exciting, except…” I pause. “Let’s go inside and get a table.”

  “Yes.”

  Felix walks in front of me, but walking doesn’t seem to be the right word for the way he moves. It’s very fluid, graceful, almost as if he’s gliding on air. The Felix from ten years ago was kind of clumsy, always tripping on his untied shoelaces as he scrambled to keep up with me and Lucien. This version looks like he’s strutting down a runway.

  Once inside, after being seated, we’re both quiet while we look at the menu. After a few minutes, Felix dramatically closes the menu and holds it to his chest.

  “I’m going to have a cheeseburger topped with fried macaroni and cheese. How perfectly American is that?”

  I chuckle. “It’s perfect.”

  “Yes. I want a glass of wine because it’s classy, and I’m classy, therefore, wine, but I am also having a Pepsi.”

  “Pepsi? Is that not available in France?”

  “It’s available, but it is not only ridiculously overpriced, but it is not a regular drink choice. I want it cold and on lots of ice.”

  “I think I like experiencing American excess through your eyes.”

  “There will be more. Stay tuned.”

  “Awesome.” I set my menu down. “I’m having the braised short ribs on asiago mashed potatoes.”

  His face lights up. “Decadent.”

  Our server appears at our table, smiling at me before her face registers, brief but pleasant, surprise when she turns to Felix.

  “Good evening. I’m Kelly. I’ll be your server. Can I get you started on wine or cocktails?”

  I nod toward Felix. “Would you like to make our wine selection?”

  “Oh, I would love to.” He lifts the wine menu, dragging his finger down the page. He’s wearing a mixture of gold rings, some thin, some thick, on every finger on his left hand but only his thumb on his right hand. “You have a lovely French selection, but a better Italian one. We will have the Nero D’Avila.”

  “Perfect. Glasses or the bottle?”

  Felix tilts his head. “You’re driving, so glasses?”

  “Unless you’d like more than one glass.”

  “I would. Bottle, please.”

  “Absolutely. Appetizers?”

  “What do you suggest?” I ask.

  “Our Korean-style cauliflower bites are addictive as are the crab stuffed mushrooms. I’m also a fan of the fried shrimp. It’s very light, but the dipping sauce is amazing.”

  “Hmm, all sound good to me. Felix?”

  “The shrimp?”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.” She takes the entree order, and as I hand her the menu I add, “Oh, and please, a Pepsi with lots of ice for Felix.”

  He giggles softly as she leaves. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I fold my hands on the table. “It’s cool seeing you now. I didn’t know if you’d ever come back.”

  “I always knew I would. I didn’t intend to be gone for ten years, but the life happens, no?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the car, you were saying something?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” I lean back in my chair. “I was engaged a few years ago. Completely ready to hang up the bachelor life for her.”

  Felix’s smile fades as his brow furrows. “What happened? If it is not too personal.”

  “It’s not. The closer we got to the wedding date, the stronger this nagging feeling in me grew. I’ve always been the kind to listen to my gut, but I kept ignoring it. I wrote it off as nerves or normal shit men go through when they decide to get married.”

&n
bsp; Felix nods. We both pause as Kelly delivers our drinks.

  “We were about three months out, and out of the blue, I started having anxiety whenever I thought about the future or when we were talking about wedding details. It was becoming concerning. She noticed. Asked me if I was cheating. I would never do that. It wasn’t that I wanted someone else.” I shake my head as that feeling, that almost frantic panicked urge to get away, hits my memory again. “I knew something was off. I told her I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I definitely wasn’t cheating. One morning, I woke up and knew I couldn’t marry her. I didn’t know why though. I just knew I had to listen to my gut. I told her, and all hell broke loose, of course. It was awful. Her dad was threatening to sue me for the money he spent. My parents were pissed off. Her friends were calling me and giving me shit. She wouldn’t speak to me.” I sip my water. “But the anxiety went away as quickly as it came. I knew it was the right decision, but I felt like such an asshole for breaking her heart and ruining everything.”

  “Merde,” he whispers.

  “Yeah. Anyway, a few months went by, I moved out, found a place, and started rebuilding. Then, one day, I get a call. It was her best friend, Michelle. I was expecting to be cussed out again, but instead she told me that she had found out Rachel was pregnant.”

  Felix’s eyes pop open. “Oh no.”

  “Yeah, so I panicked thinking, 'oh shit, I’m having a kid', but then Michelle told me that the father was her husband. Rachel and Michelle’s husband had been having an affair for over a year.”

  His mouth forms a perfect O. “No?”

  “Yes. So my instinct was right. I knew something was off. I never suspected that though. Never. She was home every night, never seemed to come up with weird excuses for lateness or any of the normal signs. Michelle told me they were meeting on lunch breaks. They had no choice but to fess up when Rachel got pregnant.”

  “What a terrible thing to do to people who love you.”

  I nod. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m not heartbroken, not jaded. Once I was out of it for a while, I realized I think we were only getting married because it’s what made sense.” I shrug. “I don’t think we were in love. She certainly wasn’t.”

  “I’m sorry though. It’s still not a nice way to be treated.”

  “No, it’s not.” I smile. “But since then, I’ve been really happy. I bought a house, got a new job that I love, and learned a really important thing about myself I didn’t know until recently.”

  “Can you share?” He tilts his straw, taking a large gulp of his Pepsi. He releases a contented sigh. “Delicious.”

  I laugh softly. “Making me want one.”

  Our appetizer is delivered, and we spend a few minutes plating, and then taking bites. The wine is delicious, but the company is excellent.

  “Actually, maybe you can help me.”

  “How?” Felix asks, nibbling on a fried leek.

  “I recently discovered I’m attracted to men.”

  Felix nearly chokes, gripping his throat and coughing before grabbing some wine and drinking the entire glass.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nods, his cheeks flushed. He clears his throat. “Yes.” He laughs, nervously. “Just swallowed wrong. Did you say…you are…euh…attracted to men?”

  “Yeah. I said that.”

  “I see. How did this discovery occur?”

  “I met a guy that I was feeling. I decided to explore that, so I went out and purposely started talking to guys I thought were hot. It wasn’t isolated, so I figured I must be bisexual.”

  He’s still staring at me, wide-eyed, as if I’m some kind of alien life form.

  “Felix?”

  He blinks hard. “Yes. I’m surprised.”

  “Not as much as I was.” I lift a piece of shrimp and drag it through the sauce. “I guess I thought your sexuality was something you figured out early on. I didn’t know it could come at you in your late-thirties.”

  “Most interesting.”

  “Yeah.”

  We’re silent as Felix refills his wine glass. He drinks a large amount, but then seems to stop himself as he stares at the glass and sets it on the table.

  “How do you feel about this revelation?”

  I shrug. “It’s cool. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I figured it would be similar to dating women, but a lot of guys seem interested in hooking up but nothing else.”

  His face pales as he swallows so hard, I can see him do it.

  “If this is uncomfortable, I’m sorry. We can talk about something else.”

  “No, it’s not. I know exactly what you mean. Are you looking for…more than that?”

  “Yeah. I think I’d like to date. Get to know someone before the physical part.” I grin. “It’s my first time, you know.”

  Felix’s eyes widen again. “You haven’t…I...euh.”

  “No, I haven’t. Just a little groping and stuff.”

  “Oh.”

  “Which is how I knew, yeah, I’m definitely into guys.”

  “Yes, well groping…and stuff…is an adequate way to determine one’s preferences.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “An adequate way to determine one’s preferences?”

  He releases a jittery laugh. “That did not sound very American twenty-something-year-old, did it?”

  “No.”

  “Right.” He smiles. “Good job?” He shakes his head. “No. Exploring is nice.” He frowns. “Merde. How would you respond to this?”

  “I guess I’d say, grabbing a handful of dick is a good way to know if you’re down with the D.”

  “Down with the D.” He nods. “Noted.”

  I chuckle, sipping my wine. “You’re adorable.”

  He screws up his face. “I don’t want to be adorable.”

  “What do you want to be then?”

  “Appealing. Sexy. Desirable.”

  I nod slowly, studying his face, with a smirk on mine, and suddenly seeing him with new eyes. “You date much in France?”

  “Enough.”

  “Is it easier or harder there than here?”

  “I hardly know. I was inexperienced when I left, but…” His gaze shifts to his wine glass as he swirls it. “Some things are the same in both places. There is a lot of focus on thinness in France. Here in Miami, on body perfection, but I am what I am. I had a choice to make. Abs or chocolate.” He smiles. “I chose chocolate.”

  “Good choice.”

  “Any man who does not want me as I am, is not the man for me. I love who I am. All the parts of me.”

  “It shows. Your confidence is evident.”

  He fixes his eyes on me, bright-green gems glimmering beneath thick, black lashes. His lips are full and heart shaped, and I remember that from when he was younger. He’s stunning to look at, and the longer I do, the warmer the feeling between my legs. Just as my thoughts are carrying me somewhere they shouldn’t, Lucien flashes in my mind. Right. Little brother. Friend only.

  I tear my eyes away and take a sip of wine, if only to have something to do besides letting my mind wonder what his lips might feel like. Taste like.

  “You mentioned I could help you?”

  I wave him off. “Never mind. It’s dumb.”

  “Nothing you could say would be. You got me a job interview. If I could do something for you, I would.”

  I meet his curious eyes again. I shouldn’t ask him. I could get one of the guys from work maybe. Or even Dulce. But the way he’s looking at me, his big eyes locked on mine, his face so open and accepting, draws the words to my lips.

  “I need dating advice. I want to know how to get a man.”

  Felix

  Merde.

  Apollo wants dating advice? From me? How could I even start when the only thing on my mind is preventing my dick from erupting in my pants. It’s painfully hard with the knowledge that Apollo has moved from frustratingly straight to potential love interest. He’s not really though. I know this. He would neve
r be interested in me. Not because I’m not gorgeous. I am. I’m just not for him. I’m too young, and nothing but his best friend’s baby brother in his eyes. It’s why he feels comfortable even asking me.

  “Perhaps I am not the most qualified to give advice in this area.”

  “You’re gay. You date.”

  “Not in America. It could be very different here.”

  “Yeah, but you could tell me what guys like.” He sips his wine, leaning back in his seat, while I battle the urge to crawl across this table and show him exactly what I like. “How would I get someone like you?”

  I force a smile to my face to try to hide the simmering heat under the surface. I’m thankful when Kelly shows up to deliver the entrees. I need the distraction. Apparently, I was more successful at hiding my perennial crush on Apollo than I thought because if he knew, he wouldn’t be asking me this. I know him well enough, even ten years later, to know he wouldn’t toy with my feelings. That’s not the type of man he is.

  The problem is I know that because he’s always treated me as much like a brother as Lucien, but in my mind, in my dirtiest fantasies, Apollo is far from a brother figure.

  I pour more wine, nearly emptying the bottle, before topping off Apollo’s glass. We clink glasses and then dig into our meals. I take one bite and bounce in my seat with joy.

  “Oh my god,” I mumble through a cheesy bite. “This is amazing.”

  Apollo nods, swallowing his forkful. “So good.”

  We eat in comfortable silence. Well, comfortable for one of us. Je suis un désastre. I shake my head. In English, brain, s'il vous plaît. Ugh.

  I’m a disaster. Thank you for the translation, brain.

  “You okay over there, Felix?”

  I gaze up. “Yes. My brain still processes in French. I was sorting through it to get to English.”

  “That’s kind of amazing.”

  “Do you speak any languages?”

  “A little Spanish. That’s it.”

  “That’s good, no?”

  He shrugs, taking a sip of water. “Are you avoiding my question?”

  Yes. “No. I was...sorting, as I said.” I take another gulp of wine. “This is very good, no?”