Page 55 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

"How do you feel about a day of sightseeing in Paris while we pack on the PDA?"

My jaw fell open. "Pack on the PDA?You mean... you mean what exactly?"

He bit back a grin, amusement shining in his eyes. "Relax, Stratton. Only some g-rated stuff like holding hands, maybe an arm around your back, and kissing of course."

"Kissing?" I echoed. "What kind of kissing?"

His laughter shook the bed. "Should I be insulted that you're freaking out about kissing me? What about what we were just doing in bed before we were interrupted? You didn't seem to mind that."

Feeling the urge to get away from him, I stood up. He was too close, too big, too in my face, too just everything. "I need the bathroom," I huffed.

"All right. Run to the bathroom," he said with a chuckle. "But think about it. It'd be the best way to counter what they're saying."

Ignoring his watchful eyes, I gathered my clothes and rushed to the bathroom, needing a few minutes to myself. And while I was in there, I'd do my own investigation because first, I had to establish whether or not this man was telling the truth, and second, I needed to figure out what I should do about it if he was.

***

Turned out that Ethan wasn't lying or even stretching the truth. There were indeed a few articles accusing us of a pretend relationship, saying it was all for PR. The whole thing smelled of Chase, even though I couldn't fathom how he'd have any people here in Paris.

Licking my fingers, I reached for my second pain au chocolat, my mood much better now that I was in my absolute favorite place in the whole world—La Belle Boulangerie. The interior was modern and minimalist with white walls and a clean aesthetic, in my opinion, the perfect backdrop for their out-of-this-world pastries.

I glanced at Ethan across from me who had opted for more of a sampler plate unlike me. But what could I say? I knew what I liked and I stuck to it.

"So what do you think?" I asked.

He held up a finger, savoring a bite and swallowing before answering me. "Fucking heaven."

We smiled at each other then proceeded to stuff our faces even more. We'd taken our sweet time getting ready after the crazy events of the morning and this was our first stop. So far, we'd only done some light handholding, and I couldn't deny the buzz of nervous excitement stirring throughout my being at the thought of this day ahead of us. This was only the beginning.

"What about tonight?" I leaned forward to ask Ethan. "What exactly should we do?"

"Leave it to me," he said, glancing down at his ringing phone. "I should get this."

Again? What the hell?

He stood up, then leaned over me, planting a quick peck on the top of my head. "Eat so many chocolate croissants that you get sick, babe, but not too sick to kiss me," he added.

I groaned as he walked away, that flutter of excitement only growing at the thought of actually kissing him. All morning I'd thought about it, and he was right. The best way to counteract the PR/fake relationship claims was to step it up physically. We simply had toshowpeople that we were a real couple, and what better way to do that than to be snapped kissing.

Already, I knew it wouldn't be just a simple peck like Ethan had given me a moment ago. It'd have to be a full-on kiss. With some tongue most likely.

What would Ethan taste like? Would he be one of those guys who jammed his tongue down your throat? Or would he be a good kisser?

I had a hunch Ethan's kisses would ruin me. But the anticipation was killing me. And it didn't stop all afternoon and into the evening as Ethan and I checked out the sights.

It was incredibly fun playing tourist, taking me back to my childhood visit, bringing out a lightness of that time when I didn't have to worry about anything, my parents were my heroes, and boys were just plain gross. God, to be a kid again.

Ethan's arm went around me as we walked down the Champs-Élysées, distracting me from the luxurious shops, cafes, and theaters that we passed. On the other hand, being an adult was kind of nice, especially when I was nestled up next to this man. Even if it was all a ruse.

Wrapping my arm around his waist, we somehow walked in sync, our steps matching up so perfectly, it would have made me roll my eyes if it were anyone else.

The Arc de Triomphe rose up on the horizon, grand and magnificent, as we continued our romantic stroll.

"So you still won't tell me what we're doing tonight?" I asked Ethan, squeezing his side with my palm.

"Nope."

"Well, shouldn't we at least talk about our outfits? To coordinate and all?"

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