Paris (Entangle Me Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

his. It doesn’t take him long to understand what I want, and before I know it his mouth claims mine. That hot, sweet, possessive mouth. Oh god, I’ve missed this. It’s been far too long since I’ve tasted him, and I kiss him back with an eagerness that I didn’t know I had. That low grumble emerges from him, and I know he is keen to do more than kiss me. Putting my hands on his shoulders, a moan leaves me as he runs his hands under my top to start caressing my stomach.
    It’s taking me all my might and strength to stop this, when it’s all I’ve been thinking about. I would want nothing more than him to take me to bed, for him to explore my body, for me to explore his body. I want to run my hands over that muscular body. The very thought gets me weak at the knees.
    “I thought you were showing me Paris,” I moan as he runs his hands up and down my waist, his fingers infusing heat on my skin.
    He breathes into my neck. “I can show you something else if you prefer.”
    Biting my lip, I want to take control of the situation. After the last two times he’s played with me, I can’t just let him do it to me again. Besides, I didn’t get dressed up just to have him undress me!
    “No, let’s go now.”
    Pushing him away playfully, I stare him down and flash him a cheeky grin.
    “You said you were taking me out. So, we’re going out.”
    His eyes widen at my directness. “Oh, you like to tease me don’t you?”
    I could say the same thing about him.
    A smirk emerging on my amused lips, I open the door and step outside. I do want him, a lot. But I can’t take another moment where he makes another move and pulls away again. Instead I’m going to wait until I know for sure he won’t pull away again. Besides, I want to see Paris. Walking down the corridor, I hear Tristan sigh loudly and it takes a few moments for him to close the door and catch up to me.
    We exit the hotel, headed north. It’s a beautiful day, determined to be a story-book perfect day in Paris. The warm air swirls with the chatter of people in the streets, skinny girls walking in their trendy jeans and vintage bags, lanky boys with their scruffy hair and cigarettes, old couples with their droopy dogs.
    As we keep walking towards the Notre Dame Cathedral, the more crowded Paris gets.  I don’t know if he suddenly had a change of heart or it is because of where we are but he decides to open up to me. He talks about how he had the best pasta ever in Paris and tried to replicate it when he got home, only to have it be a complete disaster. He talks about how he takes terrible photos of famous landmarks he visits, never patient enough to get more than one shot. He talks about how despite all the awful things that have happened in Paris lately, he still feels the people are as friendly and full of life as always. Then he started talking about his mom, about how she would make the best shepherd’s pie and how he always asks her to make it whenever he sees her. How she would help him with his homework every night even if she was exhausted after a twelve-hour shift at the nursing home. I’d like to get to know her better. I’ve only met her a few times, and barely spoke to her but Janet seems real lovely. A strong woman who raised a wonderful son, all on her own. Tristan says nothing of his father, and I know not to ask about it. I like this side of Tristan, the more relaxed side and I hope I get to experience him more often.
    We turn a corner and—there it is—the River Seine. I suck in my breath. It’s gorgeous. Couples and gleeful students stroll along the riverbank, where shopkeepers have lined up old cardboard boxes filled with paperback books, old magazines and artworks for browsing.
    And then, as we’re turning our attention back toward the river, I see it in the distance.
    Notre-Dame. I recognize it from photographs, of course. But in real life…just wow.
    Mounds of green vines spill down the walls and into the water, completing the fairy