“I was going to say compared to Rome, but we can go with you too,” I say.
I try to keep a straight face, but Jo looks so shocked I can’t help but laugh. Then she joins me, our laughs mingling and going out into the city together. We stand there for a while looking out over the city, with the afternoon sun painting everything gold. The laughter and hum of chatter and the music from the square below drifts up to us. I feel electricity between us, and I know this is the moment where everything feels possible, where a glance, a touch, a shared breath could tilt everything.
And I think, not for the first time today, that I don’t want it to end.
Chapter
Thirty
AXEL
The afternoon sun is softer now, the mellow gold light spilling across the rooftops as we leave Montmartre behind, descending the winding streets and making our way back towards central Paris. I glance at Jo as we walk. Her stride is effortless, and I feel an unfamiliar tight twist inside me. This woman is going to be the making of, or my undoing. Maybe both. She’s radiant in the kind of way that makes the city itself feel like it’s competing with her glow and losing.
“So, next stop,” I say, linking my fingers through hers, letting my thumb brush across her knuckles. “TheJardin du Palais-Royal. It’s quiet, understated and elegant. Perfect for wandering.”
“Lead the way,Monsieur,” she says playfully, looking up at me with a half-smile.
The Palais-Royal is exactly what I promised. It’s serene, classical, and almost too quiet compared to the bustling streets we’ve left behind. The courtyard opens into a lattice ofcolonnades and stone archways. The gardens themselves are a study in cultivated calm. Fountains spill silver water into stone basins, statues gaze silently at us from shaded groves, and marble benches tucked beneath trimmed trees offer the perfect refuge. Jo inhales audibly, taking in the scene beside me.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said it’s elegant,” she whispers, as if afraid to speak too loudly and disturb the tranquility of the place. “It’s so quiet.”
I nod, and we wander the gravel paths. Jo drifts slightly ahead, pausing to examine a marble statue of a reclining woman, her hand on the small of the sculpture’s back, tracing the contours of it, her forehead wrinkled in thought.
“I love the quiet allure,” she says softly. “The sculptor made her so graceful and elegant.”
“Like you,” I tease.
She spins towards me to give me a mock glare. “What? The grace, the elegance, the quiet allure, it’s all very similar.”
“Actually, yes.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re just flattering me because you want something?”
“Always,” I admit.
“Clearly,” she says tartly, rolling her eyes, but the heat in her cheeks tells a whole different story.
I catch her watching a fountain with water spouting delicately from a bronze cherub’s mouth, and I can’t resist leaning close.
“You notice everything,” I murmur, my voice low. “Every little detail. It’s adorable.”
She shakes her head. “You really are ridiculous; you know that?”
“I prefer the term charming,” I counter. “But I’ll accept ridiculous if you like it better.”
The sun dips lower as we journey deeper into a quieter corner, away from the main paths. The gravel crunches softly beneath our shoes, and the gentle gurgle of a nearby fountain fills the air. Jo pauses in front of a small marble bench tucked beneath a flowering tree, the branches shading the stone and creating a perfect pocket of privacy.
“This one,” she murmurs, brushing her hand over the cool marble. “It’s perfect.”
I step closer. “Perfect for what?” I murmur.
“Whatever we want,” she says softly, a challenge in her eyes.
And then we’re leaning closer, the world narrowing to just us and the filtered sunlight coming through the branches of the trees above us, the soft murmur of the fountains, and the heat rising between us. I kiss her, slow and deliberate at first, tasting the sweetness of her lips, the warmth of her skin beneath my hand. She responds, arching seductively against me, and the tension that’s been building all day slides into pure lust.
I push my hand into the waistband of Jo’s stretchy jeans and into her panties. She gasps and pulls her mouth from mine. Her eyes dart around nervously, checking we are still alone, but she makes no effort to remove my hand… and she doesn’t ask me to stop.
I push two fingers into her slit, and her mouth opens wordlessly. Finding her clit, I open my fingers slightly so that they sit either side of it. Looking into her darkening eyes, I begin to rub the sides of her clit. As I rub, I scissor my fingers so that the pressure changes as I move. The change in the sensations catches her off guard, and she bites down on her lip and sucks in a deep breath. I work her until I can see her unravelling in front of my eyes, and even then, I keep going, not giving her a moment of reprieve.