Winnie Takes Paris – Love and Travel Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Lane Hayes Advertisement1

Advertisement2

So had a day running around Paris with my temporary assistant.

I reread Gerard’s text and replied, Yes, of course.

He responded immediately with a lengthy message regarding his train and Colin’s plan to meet him at the station in Dijon. That alone should have raised an internal alarm, but it didn’t.

No, not a smidge of panic. Nothing at all. That had to be Winnie’s doing.

I touched my lips and smiled.

Later, when I finally crawled into bed and turned out the light, I was still smiling.

5

WINNIE

Ikissed the professor.

That was bad. Naughty, naughty, bad. In my defense⁠—

Okay, I had no defense. I’d been drunk on Paris, pleased to share it with someone for the day, and I’d gotten carried away.

Ugh. This was so me.

I’d been jumping without a parachute since puberty. Shiny coins were my passion. If it glittered and seemed the slightest bit dangerous, I wanted in.

Alistair was the ultimate shiny coin. He was my best friend’s boss, he was a makeover moment waiting to happen, and he was so far out of my league it was almost comical. Check, check, super check.

Okay, I wasn’t a complete jerk. I’d coerced him from his room out of genuine concern for his well-being. Staring at a damn computer screen all day, not eating well, or sleeping was no bueno. I was being paid to look after him in Paris, and it had been my duty to save him from death by Jammie Dodgers.

I’d just gone too far.

Truth time: I was attracted to the professor, and I’d shamelessly manufactured a kiss that should never have happened. But…I hadn’t thought he’d do it. And I one thousand and ten percent hadn’t known he could kiss like that. I mean…geesh.

That possessive hand on my shoulder, the rough scrape of his end-of-day scruff on my face, the slide of his lips. I twisted the sheets, turning from one side to the other, obsessing over that kiss and wishing there’d been fewer layers between us. Who knew the professor was a roguish, dominant hunk under a Clark Kent-esque disguise?

Christ, I’d seen him naked too. I knew the man was hung like a horse and that his body was sturdy and strong. There was no way I could keep my thoughts pure and G-rated now.

Later that night, I’d gripped my cock, imagining the professor peeling off his clothes and covering me like a warm blanket. I was an expert at conjuring porn-worthy fantasies, but I’d never been so hard or desperate for a happy ending.

I’d flung my duvet off, stroking myself in languid pulls and squeezing my base to keep from shooting prematurely when my brain spun a kaleidoscope of raunchy scenes, each more erotic than the last. The professor between my knees, his cock drooling precum on my inner thigh as he pushed his glasses on his nose, demanding that I show him my hole. The professor’s fingers stretching me open, his cock inside me. That was it.

I’d come like a rocket, white light and stars clouding my vision.

One cold shower and a stern talking-to later, I’d concluded that encouraging Alistair to step away from his desk and have fun was all well and good, but I could not under any circumstance offer myself as Exhibit A, B, or C for a good time.

I tapped on his door at eight a.m. on the dot the following morning, prepared for the inevitable post-kiss awkwardness. A housekeeper answered on the second knock with a polite, “Bonjour!”

“Oh, bonjour. He’s gone?”

“Oui.”

Shit. His computer was missing, but the stack of paperwork littered the table, and his jacket was draped neatly over one of the chairs.

I waved as I backed out of the room and headed for the elevators. I had a list of things to do and see, but I’d been hoping for a companion today.

I strode across the lobby and gave my room number to the friendly bald maître d, Henri, manning the desk at the restaurant.

“Ah, my favorite American! Where would you like to sit this morning? I have zee window table, zee buffet table, and zee popular corner next to zee coffee.”

I smiled. “The window, sill vu play. How was that?”

Henri winced. “Meh. Getting better, I think.”

I followed him through the maze of tables and slid into the booth. A server swooped in with coffee and a menu. I gave it a cursory glance, then scrolled through missed text messages and emails. I even checked my bank balance. Depressing.

I tossed my cell aside and cradled my cup as I scanned the dining room. The couple next to me had honeymoon-glazed goggles on, the family of four on my left were speaking German, and the businessmen opposite them were—the professor and Gerard, intently studying the laptop between them.

Whoa.

I watched them for a moment, gauging the mood. I’d expected the professor to be on edge and discombobulated, but he seemed perfectly cool and calm. If anything, Gerard was the one who looked out of sorts. Don’t get me wrong, he was still hot as fuck—like an updated French version of Indiana Jones. He had the aura of someone who was comfortable anywhere. I could picture him in the deserts of Egypt or in a library, knee-deep in thick leatherbound books.


Advertisement3

Advertisement4