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“Good enough,” he mutters. He releases my hand and wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. His chin settles on my shoulder, and he turns his lips toward my ear. “You asked me why I was here. The answer is because I missed you.”
His words spread through me, sending adrenaline pumping through my veins, giving my heart a reason to thump extra loud. They finally settle into a warm glow in my lower stomach.
“Ty?”
“Yeah?”
I cross my arms and slide my hands along his forearms. My face tilts toward his until his lips are touching the corner of my mouth.
“I missed you, too.”
He nudges my face around a little further and brushes my lips with his. “What if I told you I managed to convince your boss to give you five days off of work?”
“What?” I jolt back. “You got Donny to give me another five days off? Why?”
“Dayton is going to Paris to meet with her dress designer—for real this time.” He smiles wryly. “Aaron is going, too, and since I have nothing booked for next week, I thought we’d join them.”
Paris? For five days? With Tyler?
“Where would we stay? At their place there?”
He shakes his head. “My parents own a hotel there. I reserved us a suite earlier today.”
Paris? For five days? With Tyler? Alone?
“Why?” I narrow my eyes.
“No need to look so skeptical.” He steps toward me and cups my chin. “I have an ulterior motive for whisking you off to Europe.”
I wrap my fingers around his wrist with a small smile. “Surely that’s reason for skepticism.”
He opens his mouth then closes it again. He nods once, his eyes sparkling. “Fair enough. No, I want to shoot you. For fun. Paris is a breathtakingly beautiful city.” He leans in so his lips touch mine when he speaks. “And I can’t think of a more perfect place to put you.”
My lips twitch against his. “I have nothing packed for it.”
“Dayton’s at your apartment right now. They’re meeting us at the airport in Paris.”
“But we don’t have tickets.”
“We don’t need tickets.”
I blink at him. “Um, to fly on a plane, you need tickets.”
Tyler pauses. Then his lips quirk, and he fights a laugh. “Oh, Liv, babe… We’re not flying Air France. We’re flying Air Stone courtesy of my parents.”
Of course we are.
“Have you ever had a proper French pastry?”
“What part of ‘I’ve never been to France’ don’t you understand?”
Tyler grins and pushes me back down on the bed. “You know, when I call you my bitch, I don’t mean it in a literal sense?”
I poke my tongue out at him, snuggle back under the sheets, and yawn.
“Okay, tired bitch, I’m going to get you pastries. I’ll be a while, so get some more sleep if you can.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.
I sigh as the front door closes. I’ve never had jet lag like this before. I’ve never been so time-fucked that I want to carve out my brain with a dessert spoon.
