Page 24 of Love Spell (Witches of London #3)

Noah was no fun as a travel companion. Never mind that they sat side by side in first class because Timo had charmed a solo traveller into giving up their window seat for the window seat he’d had to book so they now had a window and aisle together, nestled in close for over two hours.

Never mind that both he and Noah had jackets to throw over themselves and plenty of privacy this way if a hand strayed under said jacket. Never mind that Timo was the master of subtlety, quiet and delicate as a hunting cat.

Oh no: Noah not only couldn’t enter into the spirit of the moment, not only jumped and swore when Timo tried to demonstrate, snarling at Timo that they were in a public space, as if Timo didn’t know that was half the thrill, but he even sunk to threats.

Noah issuing threats. It would have been amusing if Timo didn’t believe him.

“I’ll find a seat in standard class if you don’t leave me alone.”

“They’re reserved.”

“They’re not sold out. I can find one.”

“Noah, calm down. Look, if you keep the jacket over the arm and turn a bit towards me you have a tent —”

“How many times have you done this before? Quit it — no, Timo, shit — that’s enough .

” Noah grabbed his wrist and twisted Timo’s hand into the back of the seat, sending a rush of blood to Timo’s groin, so aroused by Noah’s tone and sudden show of strength, he wondered if he could instead lure Noah into a seat-to-seat wrestling match to achieve the same results.

Noah whispered with cold venom in his ear, “If you don’t respect my boundaries on this trip, we’re getting separate rooms in Paris. I can look after myself, you know.”

Timo shut his eyes, breaths short and balls tight, Noah still gripping his wrist, hot breath on Timo’s skin. Threats. Bloody good threats. What next?

He couldn’t see Noah willingly holding a whip, but psychological play with the odd toy or restraint was more Timo’s flavour of choice anyway. This could be the start of a long and ever-evolving power-play if only Noah would embrace the moment.

Noah let go and sat back, returning to looking out his coveted window, though the South of England wasn’t exactly the Alps, and half the trip was in tunnels.

Timo was sweating. He leaned out of his seat to look up and down the aisle, pretty sure the toilets were in the rail carriage behind theirs.

“Seriously?” Noah snapped, his tone again making Timo’s eyes glaze.

Timo had to fight for his innocent expression. “What?”

Noah leaned closer so as to drop his voice against noise of the running train and voices of other passengers. “We were in your office three hours ago. Can you not keep it in your pants for one train trip after that?”

“Noah?” Timo licked his lips, wondering if the sweat was starting to bead on his brow. “Do you enjoy controlling when your partner can get off?”

“This isn’t about controlling anyone. It’s about common decency, social laws, and respecting other people’s boundaries. So stop it. Don’t you have something to listen to or read?”

Wrong answer, but still a spark of potential.

“How do you feel about handcuffs?” Timo asked. “Rather have them on or put them on someone else?”

Noah held a hand up in front of his face. “Do not talk to me until we get to Paris or I’m finding another seat.” Noah pulled wireless earbuds from his jacket pocket.

Damn, that was cold while sitting right next to a travel companion. Sometimes it was shocking how rude Americans were.

“Can I say one more thing?”

Noah cut his eyes sideways to Timo as he placed one bud in his ear.

“I forgot to mention that I have an appointment with my immigration attorney late next week.” Timo settled back in his seat to give Noah space, closing his eyes. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

Timo waited happily. He won either way now.

Either Noah caved and asked what for, was there a chance Timo could get the work visa for Noah, could Noah attend the meeting, and all those questions that must be whirling through his mind, or he remained silent out of pride and stubbornness just to prove a point, while suffering all the rest of the train journey as he was desperate to know more.

Noah kept quiet.

* * *

They reached Gare du Nord an hour before sunset, launching the next argument about rushing straight into quick sightseeing or checking in at Maison Albar — Le Pont-Neuf, leaving their bags, and getting dinner.

“We have all of Saturday and Sunday to be tourists. There’s no rush.

Enjoy the moment.” While Noah gazed around, fascinated even by the rail station and immediate street out front, Timo steered him with a hand on his shoulder to the tram stop.

“We’ll be at the hotel in ten minutes; much faster than a car.

Still plenty of time to stroll along the river for sunset, or wherever you want to be. ”

“Will there be a pool? I don’t have swim trunks.”

“A pool, a spa, a gym, a restaurant — they have anything you like.”

“Do you speak French?”

“ Un petit. ”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Calm down.” Timo rested a hand on Noah’s waist while he watched up the street to the approaching tram, their stop crammed with what must be the end of rush-hour commuters, seeming like several hundred people swirling for trams and buses.

“I have been here before, you know. Trust me. Just enjoy yourself.”

Noah gazed out the window, gripping a handrail as he swayed on his feet for the quick ride to the hotel, then kept stopping to look at shops and architecture on the few blocks they had to walk. Timo was unusually patient with him.

“Does everyone in Paris smoke?”

“This is it.”

“What’s it?”

“Our hotel.”

“That was fast.”

The cream-coloured Haussmannian building seemed to sprawl across a whole block, reaching six stories up, with the top being dormers, and elaborately detailed in the balcony railings.

The street was treelined, quintessential and, Noah had to assume based on Timo’s choice of the place, in the heart of Paris.

“Are we near the Seine?”

“Across the street.”

“And the Louvre?”

“Five-minute walk. Really, you must have faith in me. I’ll look after you.”

“Can we do touristy stuff? I’m doing touristy stuff even if you won’t. Like a walking tour. Or one of those tacky bus tours. Or both.”

“We can do absolutely anything you fancy. The man’s holding the door, Noah. Go on.”

Their room turned out to be an upstairs suite with impending sunset views along rooftops, leaving Noah torn as to extracting the full savour of the moment. This room was worth spending time in, and they would have two days.

But no, he had to get out to the river at least, go for a walk, giddy with being here, setting foot in Paris for the first time in his life.

Timo was such a world traveller, he could no longer appreciate what this rush was like for a kid from the Alaskan pipeline escaping to a five-star Parisian hotel.

Timo spoke to their attendant at the door while Noah drank in the view and shrugged out of his backpack. No, he couldn’t wait, had to get out and see more right now.

Timo closed the door and Noah dashed to him, grinning, feeling he’d won the lottery.

“This is incred-”

Grabbing his face, Timo kissed him.

Noah returned it, catching his shirt front, but too distracted for more than a new rush mixing into the high he already felt.

“River!” Noah struggled up for air, only for Timo to get his mouth on Noah’s neck. “I want to go for a walk and see the river and — shit. ”

The backs of Noah’s legs hit the bed. Timo’s mouth again covered his own.

He pulled off Noah’s jacket and opened the buttons on his shirt with startling speed.

They’d changed at home and thrown together overnight bags, but still wore business casual.

Noah had to expect upscale venues with Timo involved and knew better than packing jeans and a sweater for the trip.

“We’ll lose the light,” Noah gasped. “We can come back for this.”

“We can come now. And still come back.”

“Timo —”

“Ages of light left —”

“No — you keep telling me to relax.” Noah was sitting on the bed by then, knocked off his feet by the force of Timo trying to climb down his throat. “So you relax. Don’t rush.”

“There’s a bridge. Pont Neuf, just there, down the street. Sunset — all the pictures you want. Plenty of time.”

Noah’s shirt and Timo’s jacket were off and Timo stopped speaking abruptly, mouth around Noah’s nipple.

“I’m all train-grimy.” Noah’s eyes were glazing, but he still tried to squirm out from under Timo. “Let me wash my hands at least.”

Timo kissed across his chest, then back to his mouth, while Noah tried to twist away, though he opened Timo’s shirt at the same time, aching so much to see Timo undressed, it was finally beginning to win out against the vision of seeing Paris at sunset. He knew which one would be more breathtaking.

“You too. You’ve been holding those filthy handrails.” Noah crashed to the floor to get out from under him, cursed Timo, dashed for the bathroom while Timo pulled off his own shirt, and had to pause to marvel at the luscious double sinks and fluffy towels even in the heat of the moment.

Quick hand and face scrub, towel, then Timo was there, barefoot, now in nothing but his slacks, allowing Noah no time to admire him because he always closed the gap so fast. His kisses had calmed, ready to relax with Noah after all, hands running down Noah’s chest to his abs, around his waist, pulling them together.

Noah’s pulse soared and he wished they were on the bridge now, Timo kissing him in the blazing evening sunshine, river sparkling below, the City of Light stretched around them, hands all over each other.