Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I laugh at her and take another bite of the salmon. “Should I ask you to talk dirty to me in French?”
She takes a sip of her wine. “If you like to. I usually only bring out the French when I’m annoyed or pissed.” She takes another bite. “I haven’t been either with you yet.”
I shake my head. “There’s always tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Are you close to your parents?” she asks me, and I smile at her.
“I am very much so. My father calls me every single day just to say hello and find out if I’m okay.”
“Every day?” she asks, a bit shocked.
“It’s not like the conversations last hours. It’s just an are you okay. Good. Talk to you tomorrow,” I tell her.
“That’s nice,” she says, smiling. “Were they strict parents growing up?”
“I mean, they are very traditional,” I tell her. “We had a curfew until we left for college. And I was a good kid and listened. Now, my brother, on the other hand, there were times he thought he could climb through the window and bust out in the middle of the night.” I laugh. “Little did he know, my father had installed an alarm, and the minute his window went up, the blaring started.”
“Mon Dieu,” she says in French, laughing.
“My father came running in with a bat, only to see my brother with one foot out the window.” I think back to that day. “He got grounded for a month, and he had to do all the chores around the house.”
“So you never snuck out of the house?” She sits back in her chair, looking at me.
“I didn’t say that,” I tell her. “I just never got caught, which is why I was the good kid.” I wink at her, and her laughter fills the room. “What about you?”
“Moi?” she says, pointing at herself and shrugs. “Not much to say. I’m an only child. My family is very well-known in France, something I try to hide, so …” She motions with her fingers doing a zipper. “I came here when I was sixteen. It was supposed to be just a yearlong thing, but it turned into me going to college here.”
“What about a job?” I ask her, wanting to know everything about her.
“So curious,” she says, smirking.
“I am,” I finally say after taking a drink of water. “You’re a beautiful woman. But I want to know you.” I lean back in my chair and watch her.
“You know me better than most people.” She laughs and starts to stand. “In fact, I think you know me four times more than most people.”
“Want to make it six?” I ask her, and she looks over at me while picking up her plate.
“What happened to five?” She puts her plate down and then drinks the rest of the wine in her glass.
“I like even numbers,” I tell her, and I pounce up from the table, grabbing her over my shoulder. The shirt falls off her bare ass, giving me the perfect opportunity to slap her ass cheek. I do it with a smile on my face, but she squirms, and I don’t even make it up the stairs. Instead, round number five happens against the wall on the way upstairs, and then round number six is in the shower right before she leaves me with a simple kiss.
“Why are you getting dressed?” she asks me while she slips on her shirt.
“I’m taking you home,” I tell her, slipping my feet into my shoes.
“I can make it home without you,” she says as she slides her feet in her shoes.
“I know you can make it home without me,” I tell her, grabbing a baseball hat and putting it on my head. “But I want to take you home. That’s the difference.”
“Aren’t you the chivalrous one?” she says, laughing as she picks up her purse.
“Call it whatever you want,” I say, closing the door behind us. Then I follow her downstairs and watch her as she hails a cab.
“You know, it’s silly for you to come with me and then have to come all the way back home again.”
“I like being silly,” I tell her when a cab finally stops and follow her instead. “It’ll be two stops,” I tell him right away, and he just nods. Vivienne gives him her address and sits down next to me. “Are you going to call me?”
She looks down and then up again, trying to hide a smile. “Probably.”
“Or probably not,” I tell her, and she just looks out the window. I don’t push it anymore, and when the car stops, she turns to me.
“I had a great time.”
“Just kiss me, Vivienne,” I say, not wanting to hear what else she has to say. I lean in, and she kisses me just a soft little kiss on the lips and then reaches for the handle.