The Tulip Terror by C L Bauer

Author:C L Bauer [Bauer, C L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Corrugated Sky Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-11-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

For the last four days, Paris was at Lily’s feet. She had her romantic trip down the Seine with the man she loved, she’d eaten a luscious chocolate and banana crêpe from a street vendor, and she’d purchased a wonderful piece of art near her favorite bridge, Pont Alexandre III. They’d even managed to spend a sun-filled day in Montmartre, eating lunch at a sidewalk café. Their afternoon at the Musée d’Orsay was beyond words. Dev didn’t hurry her as she sat down to view Edgar Degas’ work The Ballet Class. When they travelled to the Musée de l’Orangerie, she was left speechless at the beauty of the large panels of the Water Lilies by Monet.

Her days were the magic that consumed a romance novel--clutching each other’s hands as they walked through the Tuileries with the cool breezes and the warming sun on their faces, stopping for a kiss or embrace. Her nights were always in her husband’s arms.

“Dev, could you move your arm please?” she asked as she used his bare chest as her pillow.

“I’m sorry, is it too heavy?”

“No, it obstructs my view of the Eiffel Tower if you have it there.”

Dev’s eyes were suddenly wide-open. “What? You’re picking the tower over me?”

She giggled. “I am while I’m in Paris, big boy.”

“You are in so much trouble.” He rolled her quickly onto her back and began tickling certain areas of her body. He knew by now what would send her into uncontrollable laughter. Her laughter made his heart lighter. He’d known that for two years now.

“Stop, please. I can see the tower tomorrow,” she gasped.

He stopped immediately and moved his attention to her lips, tenderly kissing, and then each cheek, the edge of her nose, her forehead, her hair until he returned to her mouth.

“You can’t see the tower now while I’m right above you.”

“I’ll sacrifice it just this once,” she murmured as she looped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her. “Just this once.”

“It’ll be more than just once.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Lily,” he whispered as he set fire to her neck with his lips, “just stop talking.”

“You wanted to say shut up, didn’t you?”

“Never. You are always extremely witty and intelligent.” His lips were trailing a path lower. How could the man talk and do what he was doing?

“And now you’re just trying to placate me, trying to make me not think.”

Her hands moved to brush through his hair.

“Is it working?” he murmured.

Her body was betraying her as he touched her in all the right places. Her legs went limp. She could barely answer. “Yes,” she moaned.

One thing about her husband, he did keep his promises.

The next morning, the Paris sky was still dark as two figures met in the quiet gardens of the Tuileries. Paris was still sleeping. Their meeting was reminiscent of a bad spy movie. The only character missing was the bad guy behind the tree, hopefully.

“So, today you must meet your contact.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a factual statement. “Yes, I understand.

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