Elliot’s whole body shook, and the pair of them gave up any pretence of respecting their surroundings to howl with laughter.
“What on earth?”
They turned to find Julien, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide.
Cinn tensed. Even if Julien wasn’t bothered by their childish behaviour, his unpredictable jealous streak might rear its head.
But then hesmiled.
Julien raised his hand to his mouth, pretending to look shocked. “Having fun without me? Surely not.”
Cinn’s face broke into a smile of its own.
After the Louvre, their final mission was to cycle to a long row ofpâtisseries, where Darcy and Elliot spent ten minutes arguing about which one to go into. Cinn eventually chose for them by walking into the nearest one. Named Stohrer, it held a small sign bragging about being Paris’s oldestpâtisserie. However, what drew Cinn in was a thick crowd packed together at the back, watching a live demonstration of a pastry chef in action.
Crossing the quaintpâtisserie, he resisted the rows of meticulously crafted desserts with their glossy glazes and delicate toppings that promised indulgence in every bite to reach the plump, moustached man in the show kitchen. He was combining sugar and water to create gently sizzling caramel, demonstrating precise timing and skill as he dipped cream-filled choux puffs into the molten delight to create a shiny coating.
“He’s making croquembouche,” whispered Julien into his ear, startling him. The crowd had increased further, and perhaps this was what forced Julien to press up against Cinn’s back. Then a light pressure on his left hip registered, and he glanced down to see Julien was securely holding it, his fingertips drawing tiny circles in the waistband of his jeans.
Cinn swallowed, fixing his gaze back onto the demonstration. “What’s that dessert again?” he mumbled.
Over his shoulder, Julien leaned his face in even closer. “It’s a tower of temptation,” Julien breathed, his voice a seductive murmur, and Cinn shuddered so violently against him he surely felt it. Julien’s other hand slid up his thigh to rest on his right hip. Then he pressed himself even closer to Cinn’s back, closing any remaining space between them.
Cinn made no attempt to shuffle free; his strategy of simply ignoring Julien’s flirtations had been working well for him so far. However, if the princeling kept holding him so firmly for much longer, he might end up with a larger problem, if the subtle ache in his groin was anything to go by. He forced himself to focus on the pyramid of glossy balls being assembled in front of him.
Julien continued, his lips brushing against Cinn’s earlobe as he whispered, “Each bite, a sweet surrender.”
The low, husky sound of his voice sent a jolt straight to Cinn’s dick.
Nope. That was enough for one day.
Cinn wiggled out of his grip, weaving through the throngs of captivated watchers to dive out of the shop, straight into Elliot and Darcy.
“We got you two these chocolate éclairs.” Elliot held them up. “What were you doing in there for so long?”
Cinn snatched one out of his hand, turning his flushed face away from everyone to eat it in three hungry bites.
After another hour or so of aimless wandering, they returned their bikes—sans mote-powered spider things—and said goodbye to Darcy and Elliot.
“See you tomorrow at the party.” Elliot grinned at him and offered him a fist bump. “If I manage to break in, that is.”
The victorious feeling Cinn experienced at earning some shard of Elliot’s approval felt pivotal—he hadn’t even known how much he wanted it. Turning to say goodbye to Darcy, he pleaded, “Can’t you two come back to Julien’s?”
The apprehension surrounding his evening back at Julien’s mansion had only grown since the bakery.
She barked a laugh. “Not a chance in hell I’m signing up for extra Lucien Montaigne time. You’ll survive him for one dinner though.” She stepped back, adding, “Won’t you?”
Cinn glanced at Julien, standing apart from them, watching passersby.I’m not so sure.
The setting sun painted Paris in deep shadows and gorgeous orange hues as they walked back. Trees were shedding their last few stubborn leaves, a few falling on them as they walked.
Julien brushed one off Cinn’s shoulder. “So, now you’ve experienced true Parisian culture, I’m sure you have no regrets about not going to visit the metal beam monstrosity?”
“Nope. I still want to visit it, I’m afraid.” Cinn smirked at Julien. “There’s just something about overrated tourist traps that I can’t get away from. Comes from being a Londoner, I guess.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Julien ran his hand down his face. “I always forget Londoners have no taste.”
twelve
