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“What?”
“I told them to let me know when our table was ready. There it is,” he said, gesturing towards the tower.
“No you didn’t,” I said, no longer knowing what to believe.
“There it is,” he said, gesturing again. “Our table’s ready.”
“Our table where?”
He smiled.
Riding the elevator up to the restaurant within the Eiffel Tower was incredible on its own. The view from the restaurant, however, was breathtaking.
Seated next to the window, Paris was sparkling beneath us. I could barely look away. When I did, it was to Remy’s smiling face.
“The first time I came here was as a kid with my family,” he said drawing my attention. “I couldn’t appreciate it. I have to admit, experiencing it now through your eyes, I’m starting to see how much I missed. I’m starting to learn that privilege has its disadvantages.”
I wanted to argue with him but I couldn’t. What must it be like to take views like this one for granted? When your life is so amazing that you can’t appreciate this, what room does that leave for wonder?
For the first time since meeting the gorgeous man across from me, I felt sorry for him. It wasn’t in a mean way. It was more that I felt sympathy.
He wasn’t a god no matter how much he resembled the sculptures of them at the museum. Nor was he a wolf shifter stereotype. He was a man full of hopes, dreams, and fears. Perhaps the gods of legend were the same. Maybe, that is all any of us are no matter how much power or money we have.
I reached across the table asking for Remy’s hand. He gave it to me. I loved him for it. I didn’t let it go until the waiter brought our meal, all four courses of it.
“That was incredible,” I told him, happier than I had ever been.
“I’m glad you liked it. It’s tradition to end things with a dessert wine. Interested?”
I considered it. “Yes. Did I see some on the wine shelf at your place?”
“Good eye. You did.”
“I hadn’t. I just guessed,” I admitted.
Remy chuckled. “Good guess. Would you like to go back and try a little of it?”
“I think I’d like that,” I told him, never wanting him to leave my sight.
“Then we should go,” he said, his cheeks glowing.
Exiting the restaurant and entering the elevator, he took my hand. Heat washed through me. I felt electric. Dressed as I was, there was no hiding what he did to me. My neck and exposed chest glowed calling for his touch. My pounding heart begged for his kiss.
When the cool breeze of nightfall tickled my warm skin, I shivered. I couldn’t think. My brain stopped working. The only thing I could do was follow his lead and I was going to. Because as the tingles danced around my balls making me hard, I knew I could no longer resist him.
With my heart racing as his apartment door closed behind us, I couldn’t breathe. When he turned giving me a smoldering look, I stared back. I was about to pounce.
“Wine?” he asked leaving me for the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I said breathless.
Unable to budge, I watched him. He moved effortlessly. Grabbing a bottle and two glasses, he led me to the couch. Sitting, I was on fire.
“What do we toast to?” he asked a low rumble to his voice that vibrated my taint.
I giggled. It was all I could do. Remy chuckled in reply.
Handing me a glass, he filled it. Filling his own, he said, “You know, Dillon, you always make it hard on me.”
