Chapter 15 - Nic

I wake up several hours later with the sunlight streaming in through the large French windows. The room seems unfamiliar to me. When I see Lex sitting up next to me in bed tapping away on his iPhone, I give a sudden squeal. The memory of our lovemaking comes flooding back to me. Lex was true to his word. He was only just getting started the first time we made love. I have lost count of the number of orgasms I've had. We made love so many times, I didn't even know it was physiologically possible. He has such remarkable stamina. I didn't know men recovered in seconds! Color flushes all over my neck and face as scenes from the morning flash across my mind. I was wanton. I was bold. I was naughty. I was everything I didn't ever dream I could be.

"Good afternoon, beautiful," Lex says with a sexy smile.

"What time is it?" My voice comes out in a croak as I turn around to look at the clock on the bedside table. I yelp and sit up, forgetting I am naked.

"It's twelve-thirty! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Relax! You don't have to be anywhere! You don't have to do anything! Unless…" he leaves the sentence unfinished, ogling my naked breasts.

"You stay away from me, buster," I say, jumping out of the bed with the sheets draped around me. "The last time you had that look, you… me… well… you know what I mean!" I huff as my color deepens. There's that dangerous gleam in his eyes again. I lick my lips nervously. His gaze drops down to my lips.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announce, practically running in the direction of the bathroom. Lex's rich chuckle follows me. The bathroom is as big as my whole apartment! There is a quaint ceramic tub propped against one wall. The large rectangular mirror on the wall over the two separate sinks is framed in gold. Even the bathroom fixtures are plated in real gold! This is luxury beyond my wildest imagination.

Sudden hot tears prick the back of my eyes when I realize that Lex did this for me. In the early hours of the morning when we had finished making love for the fifth or the sixth time, he told me that he had wanted our first time to be perfect. That's why he planned this whole trip. But I couldn't care less if we had made love in the back of a car like horny teenagers or even in a broken old shed. It would have been perfect no matter where we were, because it was Lex. But I didn't share any of my thoughts with him, knowing he wouldn't be able to reciprocate my feelings.

I am in love with Lex.

I can't even begin to describe how I felt when we made love for the first time. I know it doesn't make sense, but I felt complete. I felt as if I had found a part of me that I didn't even know had been missing. But I pushed all those feelings away then, and I am pushing away all these overwhelming emotions away now. I know my time with Lex is limited. I am determined to enjoy it.

I forgo the temptation to soak in the bath, take a quick shower, wrap myself up in one of the luxurious robes, and step out of the bathroom. I see Lex standing in the little terrace attached to the bedroom.

When I join him outside, I am mesmerized by the gorgeous view of Paris! I can prominently see the American Cathedral and the Eiffel Tower from here. The air smells crisp and fresh. It is a clear, sunny day. Breakfast, if you can call it that, is laid out on the table. There's coffee, an assortment of pastries, several varieties of cut fresh fruit, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

"What are our plans for the day?" I ask Lex brightly.

"Whatever you want. We can stay in," he says with a slow wink, "or we can head out."

"Head out. Definitely head out. I don't think I will be able to walk for days if we continue to stay in," I say with a slight blush. I am determined to keep it lighthearted and friendly.

"As you wish, my lady," he says, bowing over my hand, making me smile. "I'll order a limo for us."

"How about we just walk?"

And that's what we do.

We walk along the Champs-Elysées, pausing at the shop windows, occasionally taking a stroll inside one of the quaint little shops. We walk along the Seine, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine on our faces. We cross over Pont-Neuf to reach the Ile de la Cite. I marvel at the beautiful architecture of the Notre Dame. Lex talks me into taking a boat ride on the Seine. As we sit holding hands in the boat, watching beautiful old buildings pass by, feeling the cool evening breeze on our faces, I cannot help thinking that to the casual observer, we might come across as a couple of lovebirds. If only that were true.

As the sun begins to set, we hop into a cab. Lex says he had planned for us to visit the Eiffel Tower. A thrill of pleasure runs down my spine. I had no idea he had planned something like this in advance!

We reach the Eiffel Tower and take the elevator to the very top. We decide to stop on the first and second floors on our way down. It is a magical feeling to be up here. I understand why they call Paris the City of Lights, as thousands of lights twinkle below us for miles and miles. There's a bite in the air, and I curse myself for not carrying a jacket, rubbing my bare arms. The summer dress with thin shoulder straps seemed adequate enough in the warm afternoon sun. It is anything but adequate now.

"You're cold," Lex says, observing the goose bumps on my arms. "Come here," he says, opening up his arms. I step into them without hesitation. Immediately, I am engulfed by the warmth of his body. Just being held by him feels incredibly nice.

Gently, he lifts my chin and kisses me tenderly. Tears prick the back of my eyes. I am in love with him, but I can never, ever have him. Sniffling away my tears discreetly, I break our kiss and put my arms around his waist. When I rest my head on his shoulder, he presses a kiss to my temple. I am tempted to declare my feelings for him right there, but I know how it will end.

After a tour of Gustave Eiffel's apartment which I didn't even know existed, we make our way down to the second floor, where apparently we are having our dinner. I push all melancholy thoughts aside and remind myself of my promise to make the most of my time here in Paris with Lex.

"I can't believe we are actually dining in a restaurant on the Eiffel Tower! It feels like a dream! A magical adventure!" I exclaim as Lex leads me to our table at a Michelin Star restaurant.

"You know what would be truly adventurous?" he says with a naughty gleam in his eyes.

"What?" I ask warily.

"Have you ever tried snails?"

"No!" I squeal.

He chuckles at my reaction.

"Are you chicken?" he teases.

"I'd much rather have chicken than snails," I protest.

"Oh, come on! Don't be such a wuss!"

"Wuss? I'm no wuss! Alright! Let's have snails," I say, gulping audibly. "Have you had snails before?" I ask.

"No," he grins. "But my mom loves them."

"Really?" I ask, looking at him suspiciously.

"I swear on my honor! Every time they visit Paris, she devours the little buggers."

"Your mom seems like an adventurous sort of person."

"She is," he says with a fond smile. "You know, ever since Dad retired five years ago, Mom and Dad have made it a point to travel twice a year. France in autumn and one new off-the-beaten-track place in either summer or winter, depending on where they're going."

This is the first time he has ever opened up about his personal life to me. I suddenly realize I don't know a lot about him at all. But I also feel like I've known him for many lifetimes, that my soul recognizes him as mine. It sounds insane even in my head, but that's exactly how I feel.

"They seem like wonderful people," I say, meaning it.

"They are. I'd like them to meet you sometime," he says. My hand freezes mid-air with the glass of aperitif halfway between the table and my mouth. He notices the shock on my face, and for a brief moment the expression on his face mirrors mine.

"We have the twenty-fifth anniversary party coming up next month. I'm sure you'll meet them then," he continues smoothly with a shrug.

I nod and smile tremulously before I hastily take a large sip of my aperitif. He didn't mean anything by it, I lecture myself. Stop dreaming dreams that will never come true!

"Your mom and dad have been married for how long?" I ask, unable to hide the longing in my voice. Having been brought up a single mother, I have always wondered how growing up with both parents would feel like. I love my mother more than any person in the whole world, but I can't help but wonder occasionally. All I know about my father is that he wanted nothing to do with me.

"Nearly thirty-five years," he says proudly.

I observe him closely as I ask the next question, knowing I might very well be rebuffed.

"You have never been tempted to find what your parents have? I have no designs on you, don't worry," I lie hastily when a wary look comes into his eyes. "I am merely curious. I was brought up by a single mother, which has made me determined to have a child only when I'm in a loving, committed relationship. I have seen how my mother toiled and suffered to raise me. What I mean is our experiences shape us. If your parents are in a secure, loving marriage, doesn't it make you want it?" I say, exhaling noisily. I am babbling as I do when I'm nervous. Perhaps I was out of line.

"No, the risks are too great."

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead for a brief moment before I rearrange my features. It wasn't what I was expecting at all.

"How do you mean? There are prenups if you're worried about losing your fortune," I say. I seem to have lost all control over my tongue. But when he provided that opening, talking about his parents, I simply could not resist probing. The way I see it, he has some kind of commitment phobia. What is he afraid of?

"It's not money I'm worried about. It's something a lot more valuable," he adds almost inaudibly. My eyes widen. What could he possibly mean? But before I can quiz him further, the waiter arrives with a dish of piping hot snails, and my attention is sufficiently diverted.

The snails are surprisingly not too disgusting. The red meat course follows the snails with a different accompanying wine, which is followed by the cheese course with yet another kind of wine. Lex coaxes me to share a crème br?lée. It is of course followed by coffee.

I insist on walking back to our hotel after the huge meal we've had. We walk hand in hand, meandering on the sidewalk as if we didn't have a single care in the world. In that moment, I actually feel remarkably carefree.

"It was such a lovely day. Thank you," I say once we are inside the suite, kissing him gently on his cheek. The rough stubble grazes against my lips, sending tingles down my spine. Lex says nothing but takes me in his arms. He slowly slides down the zipper of my summer dress. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. His arms are under my ass, hoisting me up. He carries me to the bedroom as we kiss. This time, our lovemaking is different. It is slow, sweet, tender. I can almost see Lex struggling to give himself completely and uninhibitedly to me, like I have given myself to him. But he holds back. And it hurts. Even when my body is experiencing pleasure beyond belief, my heart weeps silently.

I know with certainty my heart will break, but there is nothing I can do to stop it.