Landslide (13 page)

“Hi.” Oh my God.
Did I just say ‘hi’ like some twelve-year-old? “I mean, it’s nice to meet you.” I felt another wave of heat rush to my face.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You look flushed. I hope you’re not coming down with something. Maybe you shouldn’t go to Paris tomorrow.”

“Paris?” Olivia asked with a smile.

“Yeah, Maxwell is going to Paris for a few days and offered to take Kenz with him. Wasn’t that nice?”

Olivia’s smile widened. “It really was, and I
love
Paris. Maybe
I
should come, too!”

I tried not to panic. I mean, she seemed nice, but we couldn’t have her along. Maxwell looked like he was in a panic, as well. He was just about to say something when Olivia spoke again. “Oh wait. I have that
thing
tomorrow. Oh well, next time then.” I sighed in relief. “I do need to catch up with you, though, Max. Let’s do it first thing when you get back. I know you have
lots
to tell me about.” She was looking right at me when she said it. ”It’s nice to have met you, Mackenzie.”

“You, too.” We all stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Well, I’m going to go to bed. We have an early flight to catch.”

“I’ll be by to pick you up at eight, okay?” Maxwell asked. I blushed because it sounded just like a date. Hell, it was sort of a date, but they didn’t know that. “Goodnight,” he added before turning and heading to his room.

“Yeah, um…yeah,” I said before rushing to our suite. My dad came in two minutes later and headed to bed himself.

I lay in bed, worried about what had happened. My dad seemed none the wiser, but I wasn’t so sure about Olivia. I wondered if Maxwell was upset. Just as the thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Maxwell.

At least someone is having fun tonight.

I had no idea what he meant until the picture text came through a moment later. I couldn’t help laughing as the image of the two bears, posed in the sixty-nine position, appeared on my screen.

I was treated to half a dozen more images of the bears in various sexual positions, each making me laugh harder than the last.

Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.

I smiled at his final message and texted back a goodnight.

The morning was a rush of grabbing breakfast and heading to the airport. Once there, we had to go through security and customs. We’d barely had a moment to speak until we were sitting next to each other on the plane. Even then it was hard to talk; we were surrounded by people.

The flight was much different than the one we’d taken together from New York. Almost as soon as we’d taken off, we began our descent. Again we hustled through the airport and eventually out onto the streets of Paris.

The line at the taxi stand was short, and Maxwell was able to get us a cab quickly. My heart started beating rapidly at the thought that in a few minutes, we might be alone in our room. When we pulled up at the luxurious hotel, I waited while Maxwell paid the driver and grabbed our bags from the trunk. I tried to help, but he told me that he had it.

We walked into the lobby and up to the front desk. It was only 11:30, and our room wouldn’t be ready until three o’clock.

“We can keep your bags here and put them in your room when it’s ready,” the receptionist offered. “You can go shopping or sightseeing until then, if you would like.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Maxwell said, handing her our bags.

When we stepped onto the street, my eyes were as big as saucers. There were stores lining the streets in every direction. I really wasn’t one for shopping, but even
I
could appreciate the quality of the different shops.

We walked down the boulevard, looking into different windows and occasionally going into a store. When we came across one called
Trendz
, I laughed, looking into the window. “I’d love to see you dressed like
that
.” I pointed to a mannequin dressed in a pair of faded, torn jeans and a navy blue T-shirt.

“Really?”

Maxwell was looking at the mannequin thoughtfully.

“Well, yeah. I mean…it’s not like I don’t love what you normally wear, but I don’t know. I’d kind of like to see you like that sometime.”

“On one condition,” he said, opening the door to the shop.

“And that is?”

“If you get to dress me, then I get to dress you!”

I giggled as we walked into the store. I swore I could hear the theme song to Pretty Woman playing as we chose outfits for each other.

There were so many to choose from. I loved him with the navy blue T-shirt from the window with a dark grey hoodie, but I also loved him in the same jeans with a black thermal shirt. The way it hugged his arms, showing off his biceps, made him look incredible. Then again, the way the navy T-shirt stretched across his pecks made my mouth water.

“Ugh, I can’t decide. You look so yummy in both.”

“Yummy? Well, how can I resist yummy? I’ll get both.”

I noticed he didn’t change back into his original clothes, but headed over to the shoe section. He held up a pair of black boot-style shoes that I had to admit would have looked damn good with either outfit, but I had my heart set on another pair.

I held up a pair of classic black Chucks.

“Are you serious? Those were in style when I was
your
age.”

“They are
still
in style,” I retorted.

“Fine, we’ll get both. Now, do I get to pick the clothes for you? Maybe you’ll need some help in the dressing room.” I swatted at him playfully.

After having me put on several ridiculous outfits, he had narrowed it down to three. The first was a pair of faded jeans with holes in the front, a pale pink T-shirt, and a light gray hoodie. The second outfit was a darker pair of jeans and a long sleeved off-white top. It had a scoop neck, and the sleeves went down over my hands and had thumb holes. The third outfit was a simple pair of cream colored leggings and a dark green sweater that came to mid-thigh.

“Ok, we’ll get them all,” he said laughing.

“Wait, I had to narrow it down to two outfits for you, so why do you get to pick three?”

He opened his wallet and pulled out the platinum card I’d returned to him this morning after hiding it last night. “‘Cause I’m paying.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded with a giggle.

“And don’t forget, we still need to get you shoes. You can pick a pair, but I want you to get a pair of matching Chucks, too.” He picked up a shoe from the shelf. “What size do you wear?”

“Six,” I said, looking at the rows and rows of sexy shoes.

I found a pair of tan boots that resembled Uggs, but had a name on them I was sure you could only get in France.

Looking at him again, I smiled. “You know, you hardly look like yourself. I doubt even my dad would recognize you.”

Our eyes met as the plan began to formulate. Neither of us said a word.

Maxwell walked up to the counter where our pile of clothes laid. “Can you have these delivered to our hotel?”

“But of course, Monsieur,” the saleswoman replied.

Maxwell pressed a folded bill into her hand and whispered something to her. He picked up the lighter jeans, pink top, and gray hoodie, along with the Chucks, and handed them to me. “Go ahead and put these on.”

Five minutes later, our new clothes, as well as the ones we’d been wearing, were on their way to the hotel. We stood in front of the store gazing at each other. He looked beyond sexy.

“I feel like a new man,” he laughed and stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Max.”

             
I giggled. “Kenzie.”

“Wow, um…really?” he asked with a genuinely surprised expression on his face.

“What?” I asked, clearly not understanding.

“I don’t know
. It’s just that only your friends call you Kenzie. I guess…well…I’m honored.”

I laughed. “You don’t consider yourself a friend? I mean, you had your hand in my pants twenty-four hours ago. I only do that with like…um…half my friends.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I guess. I just thought you thought of me as some old guy. I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I do like it when you protect me…you know, when you’re my Daddy. But honestly, most of the time I forget we aren’t the same age.”

A huge smile spread across his face. “Then let’s forget everything and just be ourselves and have fun today.”

He held out his hand to me. It was odd, because this man had been inside me; he’d given me countless orgasm, come down my throat, and fucked me in the ass, yet holding his hand just then seemed more intimate than all of it. We weren’t pretending. We didn’t have roles to play. It was
just us. I’d never felt so naked and vulnerable in my life, yet I’d also never felt so safe.

Placing my hand in his, I sighed in contentment. The tingle that I usually felt was there, but this time there was an added warmth. It traveled up my arm and settled in my chest. It was then that I realized how in love with this man I was. I was utterly head over heels in love with this man and I couldn’t even hold his hand in public without wearing a disguise. I had no idea how he felt about me, and it really didn’t matter. The entire situation was hopeless. Those thoughts were for another day, though. Today we were together, holding hands in Paris, and I wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

We dipped in and out of shops over the next few hours. Max was spoiling me rotten, but he insisted. After a while, I stopped mentioning that I liked things just so he wouldn’t buy them. He caught on to that, too, and started watching my reactions.

We ate a late lunch in a quaint cafe, where he ordered for me; I was surprised to learn that he spoke French. The food was delicious. By the time we’d stepped back outside, the temperature had dropped, as the sun moved behind the tall buildings lining the street, casting us in the shadows.

I shivered at the chill. “Oh, Sweetheart,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Let me keep you warm.”

And he did, but we ducked into a shop a block down anyway, and just like before, chose jackets for each other. I had to admit he looked amazing. Apparently, other women thought so, too, because they kept turning their heads when we walked by.

“Alright, Kenzie, where to now?” Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed two o’clock, drawing my attention. “That’s Notre Dame,” he explained.

“Like the famous one in the cartoon?”

I didn’t miss the eye roll. “Yeah, after Disney put out the movie, they built a cathedral here,” he said in his most sarcastic voice.

“Shut up,” I giggled, already pulling him in the direction of the bells.

We walked along the banks of the Seine. Several times Max suggested we get a cab, but I loved walking with him.

The grounds of Notre Dame were gorgeous. As we sat on a bench to admire the view, he pulled me close to him so that my back was touching his chest. His hand slid around my waist to
lie flat on my stomach and he held it there tentatively.

He’d touched me dozens of times before, but this was different. He wasn’t Daddy and I wasn’t his little girl. She would never refuse her Daddy, and if he wanted to take her behind a tree and fuck her up against
it, she’d allow it. But this was different, and Max seemed to know it, too. It was almost as if he were holding his breath, waiting for my reaction.

I loved the feel of his hand and I loved how nervous he was. I sighed contentedly and rested my head back on his chest. After a while, his thumb began to make slow circles. It was maddening and sweet at the same time. He never moved his hand, so while his thumb was inches from my breast, he never actually touched it. Then again, if he viewed it as a first date of sorts, it was sweet that he wasn’t trying anything.

The bells began to chime and we saw a newly married couple come from the church. Their friends and family were all around them, wishing them well. The bride looked radiant and the groom infatuated with her. I was glad that Max couldn’t see my face or he might have seen the wistfulness in my eyes.

Max squeezed my other hand tightly. I’m not sure what he was trying to say, but the message I got was, “We’re here together right now. Let’s enjoy it.”

When the wedding party cleared, Max whispered in my ear, “You ready?”

I really wasn’t ready to leave that magical moment, but I did want to see other things. We walked around the cathedral for a bit longer and then eventually headed south. We’d kind of shopped ourselves out, but it was still nice to look in windows. When we came to a narrow bridge, I was surprised to see thousands of locks flanking each side.

“
Pont de l'Archeveche,” he said, staring right along with me. “Locks of Love.”

“Locks of love?”

We watched as two people walked up and clipped a lock to a vacancy in the fence. They removed the key and tossed it into the river, then kissed passionately.

“People come here to show that they are inseparable. They place a lock on the fence and throw away the key as a symbol that the lock can’t come off.”