She whimpers as she pushes against my fingers, trying as subtly as she can to ride me to the edge of her orgasm. She clenches around me, a sign she’s nearly there. I inch closer, my mouth near her ear. “Would that work as one of the terms? If I could spend the evening with my face buried between your legs?”
She parts her lips, lets out a quick breath, then nods as she shudders and seems to melt, to turn boneless. A small sound escapes her, but she stays quiet, trembling as she comes on my fingers in the tea salon.
Her eyes close, and when she opens them, she’s woozy and sex-drunk, and I need to make her look that way again. “You’re wicked. And I want another.”
“Greedy girl,” I say approvingly as I lick the sweet taste of her off my fingers. Her eyes widen as she watches me.
I wipe my hand on a napkin and signal for the bill, and once I pay it, my phone rings. I have half a mind to ignore it, but I see Erik’s name flashing. “Let me see what’s up with him.”
I answer it. “Make it good. I’m about to shut the ringer off for the night.”
He sobs. “Jandy left me.”
14CHRISTIAN
“Where are you? Are you home?”
“No. I’m outside.”
“Outside where?”
“I’m at . . . I don’t know. There’s a bloody window planter on the building across the street.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, as Elise watches me with worry etched in her eyes. “Does the street have a name?”
He hiccups. “It’s rue something,” he says, and that’s not useful at all, since nearly every street starts with rue. Tears are thick in his voice. Elise must be able to hear his end of the conversation because she sits forward, seeming cautious and careful with her movements. “I texted Oliver too but he has no idea where I am.”
I groan. “Because he lives in fucking Manhattan. Of course he has no idea. Are you wandering around the streets?”
“Yes. I see a streetlamp. Is that helpful?”
Hell, Erik could be anywhere. “A street sign would be more helpful. Can you walk to the corner and give me cross streets?”
He hiccups again, and it registers that those aren’t hiccups from coughing. He’s been drinking. “Are you pissed?”
“I’ve only had three shots. But I fully intend on being absolutely plastered by the end of the night. We’re talking uni-style bender.”
I drag a hand through my hair, frustrated that he doesn’t know where he is. “Your tolerance is crap already. Are you near the river? Sacré-Coeur? Notre Dame? The Eiffel Tower? The Louvre?”
“No. I’m near a church. It’s across the street from a café. Hold on.”
I wait, ready to go find him in a heartbeat. “It says Les Deux Magots.”
“Stay there outside Les Deux Magots. I’ll be there in ten minutes. We’re only a mile away.”
“We’re?” He groans, and it’s the saddest variety of sound. “Oh, crap. You’re with your woman.”
I glance at Elise. Is she my woman? I had my hands up her skirt until she came on my fingers. But she doesn’t want to be owned.
She’s no one’s woman. She’s her own woman.
Only, now is clearly not the time to address her status with my brother. Waiters circle, carrying trays of tea, and meanwhile, a mile away, my brother is drowning his sorrows over his wife.
“Yes, I’m with Elise, but I’m coming to see you.”
Elise shoos me off, telling me to go.
“I’ll go home,” Erik says. “I don’t want to cock-up your date.”
“You’re not ruining anything.”
He moans. “I can’t go home. I have no home. I’ll get a hotel.”
I take Elise’s hand and lead her out of the salon, chatting with Erik. “You’ll stay with me. Just settle down at Les Deux Magots, and I’ll be there soon.”
“Don’t worry,” Elise whispers. “Go to him.”
“Bring her along,” Erik says, sounding strangely chipper for a moment.
“What? You haven’t even met her yet.”
“I need a woman’s perspective. Bring her along, and that way maybe she can make sense of what’s been going on.”
“Erik,” I say with a sigh.
His voice is sharp and demanding. “Just, please. I mean it.”
I cover the phone as we make our way outside. “He wants you to come. You don’t have to.”
She wraps a hand around my bicep. “I want to. Whatever you need.”
Her smile is soft and gentle, and it’s one of the first times neither one of us is teasing. The gentleness hooks into me and touches deeper than I expected. It isn’t about the spark between us. It’s about a woman who’s been broken before, and yet she still cares for someone else. Someone she doesn’t even know.
And I think I want her to care more about me too.
Fifteen minutes later, we usher Erik out of a touristy, overpriced café and into an English pub around the corner. The floor is covered in sawdust, and names are carved into the wood on the table. Erik picks at a bowl full of peanuts. His eyes are red, but dry.
He raises a pint. “Cheers. Drinks are on me. Let’s get pissed.”
Elise raises her hand to catch a waiter’s attention. “We’ll have two more, please, and another for him.”
Erik smiles at Elise. “She’s a keeper. Always trust a woman who’ll drink a beer with you. Never trust the ones who thumb their noses at pints. Jandy hated beer.”
Elise smiles. “Sometimes you just need a pint.”
“I love her already,” Erik says, smiling like a sad sack at Elise. “And I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but I’m glad to make the acquaintance of the woman who has captivated my little brother.” He stabs his finger against the table, grinning like a sloshed loon. “Did you know he said you were bold and daring the night he never met you? And so scrummy.”
