Page 70 of Tamed By You

“Ready to be blindfolded again, Ali Cat?”

I eye him suspiciously across the table that separates us.

“Come on, Ali Cat, humor me…”

A warm breeze hits my cheeks and my dress whirls around me as I step out of the car, taking Harry’s hand. My heels land on something hard, some type of stone, if I’m not mistaken. He removes the earplugs and the sound of beeping hornsand engines drift in the air. I inhale, trying to guess my surroundings.

“Where are we?” I ask nervously. “I swear, if you are taking me to the edge of a bridge and are about to push me, I’ll be dragging your ass down with me.”

A deep rumble burst from his chest, the chest I have been leaning against to steady myself. His mouth nestles against the shell of my ear. “Keep your eyes closed, okay?” I nod in agreement. He lifts the eye mask and my face creases as a bright light hits my face.

He moves beside me, taking my hand once again in his. My heart races in anticipation.

“Three… two… one… open.”

Slowing peeling my eyes open, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. A gust of wind blows my hair around my face as the most stunning piece of architecture comes into view.

“Oh, my god.” My words are barely audible. They're, right in front of my eyes is the Eiffel Tower. “You brought me to Paris?” Stunned, I face him and there is a look I haven’t seen on his face before.

“You said you needed a photo of the Eiffel Tower, so I figured it would be better to see the real thing,” he says it like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t just brought me to the fashion capital of the world. The most romantic place on earth.

“I don’t know what to say… Thank you… I…” I look back at the Eiffel Tower in all its glory across the river. It’s only then I notice we are standing on a bridge, with river boat cruises floating up and down beneath us, the afternoon sun beginning to set behind the Tower, giving Paris a stunning auburn glow.

I step towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck, his large hands finding my waist, tugging me close. Even in my three-inch heels, I have to go on my tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You keep surprising me, H.” He does. He is so unexpected. Not only does he surprise me in the physical sense, but emotionally too. Underneath the party boy, the jokester, the man that has women falling at his feet, is someone incredibly thoughtful and kind. I still can’t get my head around the fact he wants to pursue me, but for now, I am going to let myself enjoy it because I know only too well how temporary life is, and with him, I feel brave enough to take a tiny leap of faith.

“Back at you, Ali Cat.” He nuzzles his nose with mine and I close my eyes, praying that this isn’t another dream.

The sun has set over Paris, and we have set up a little picnic on the riverbank so we could have the perfect view and watch the Eiffel Tower light up and sparkle. We found the cutest bakery down a small, cobbled street and brought fresh bread, cheeses, a cheesecake of course, and macaroons. Harry said he had one last little surprise left for me.

“Ready… open.” Harry opens his mouth as wide as he can so I can toss a macaron into his mouth. I throw my hands in the air in victory when he catches it. He claps, chewing as he grins at me.

When I’m around him, this silly, goofy, happy version of me appears. I didn’t have much fun growing up. I never got to be silly, carefree as a child. I was working from the age of three. My childhood was spent at dress fittings, in hair and makeup. There was never time to play, hang out with friends, ride a bike, get messy, no time to just be a child. I was forced to grow up and deal with things most adults don’t go through in their lifetime. Every day I spend with Harry, he heals a little part of me andmy inner child; he makes it feel safe for her to come out and experience things she never got to.

So, I am making sure I am enjoying these moments, however fleeting they may be. I’m in Paris with a man who looks at me and treats me like I am more than just something shiny and pretty, an object, something that serves a purpose to them. He looks at me like I matter; like I am more than just a pretty face. He looks at me like I’m worth more.

“Your turn,” he says, holding up a pink macaroon.

“I can’t fit that in my mouth. It’s too big. You need to break it in half, at least.” He looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

“Baby, please, I have watched you deep throat my cock like it’s an Olympic sport, and he’s a beast. Trust me, this will fit in your mouth.”

A burst of laughter explodes from me, tears running down my cheeks. The type of laugh that has your body vibrating. It’s loud and unladylike, but god, does it feel good. I crawl over to him, settling in his lap, and kiss him. I have never had a boyfriend, never had a relationship, never been around a guy I have wanted to kiss just because. But there is a pull between us, like a magnet. I am drawn to him whenever he is near. I want to be close to him, to feel him, to be held by him. The little voice in my head that tells me I am not worthy of him tries to invade my thoughts.When he knows all your secrets, Alice, he won’t want you anymore.

I shake the thoughts away. Determined even more, to just enjoy and be in the moment with him.

“Thank you. This trip has been a dream,” I say, stroking my hand over his stubble.

“You’re welcome, baby.” He kisses me with the kind of kiss that stirs up a feeling in your belly that then trickles down to your toes. This wasn’t meant to be anything, but there’s no way Ican slow this down, even if I try. I am falling for him. I just hope he meant what he said. I pray he catches me.

We walk through the streets of Paris, hand in hand, a belly full of pastries and the best champagne I have ever tasted. Paris is stunning in the day, but at night, the glow emanating from the Eiffel Tower casts a hue over the city, the cobbled streets dimly lit, traditional French music floating through the air from nearby restaurants.

We cross street with ease and smoothness; he steps behind me, maneuvering me to the inside of the sidewalk, swapping our interlinked hands, his stride never faltering as he does, and I realize he’s done this every time we cross the street.

“What was that slick move about?” I ask, turning to face him.

“Haven’t you heard of the sidewalk rule?” He meets my gaze with a glint in his eye.

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