She’d been promised a trip she’d never forget, an adventure to boggle her mind and warm her on cold nights. But first Lydia had to face her fears, had to trust in a love she never realized existed, had to dare for a man she longed for, and reach for the world Mark and Brent were offering when they take her beneath the ground and into the dark.
One word will stop it all. Another will give her victory over a lifelong phobia. It’s hard to say yes when one’s heart races in fear. It’s hard to say no when the adrenaline rush of dangerous men lead a woman into depths she’d never imagined and fantasies she’d only daydreamed.
Lydia stood before
the Eiffel Tower on the edge of a crowded tour group of obnoxious Americans,
bored out of her mind. She’d been promised a trip she’d never forget, an
adventure to boggle her mind and warm her on cold nights. There was nothing
adventurous about this, despite the night that showed the landmark in all its
glory. Her nerves crawled, her temper spiked, and if she had to listen to the
guide’s nasal tones one second longer...
“Lydia?” A deep
voice rumbled through her. Right behind, heat rising over her as his breath
tickled the shell of her ear. A presence ready to claim her, to bore into her
kicked into double-time. “Yes?”
Eyes downcast, she
turned her head slightly, but could see very little of the man, despite the
streetlights and the continual stream of vehicles passing. He wore a dark shirt
and trousers and tempted her with the scent of Brut. Her body trembled. That
was the scent worn by the first boy she’d ever made out with. A romping session
outside the school gym on a moonless night that found her pressed against the
brick wall and her boyfriend dry humping her crotch to orgasm, while his tongue
lashed around hers and his fingers groped her breasts.
“You’re to come
with us,” another voice replied, softer, tempting, but with just as much
command. There was a familiarity about it, and Lydia turned toward the
newcomer. Again, dark obscured his features and his clothing helped camouflage
him in the night.
“Why?” The word
came out on a whispered breath. Yes, their approach intrigued her.
awaits.” The first man stepped closer, fingers dusting across her elbow,
dissipating the scant barrier her long-sleeved cotton blouse provided. Goose
bumps flared over her skin, riffling the hairs to attention. That’s when Lydia
dared a full look in their direction.
Both wore fedoras
and, beneath those, Zorro-type masks covered their features. Mystery men with
broad shoulders and sculpted muscles that rippled beneath their shirts and made
a girl want to wrap her arms and legs around. Yes, her trip to Paris was
already looking up.
“Who are you?”
Lydia was up for adventure, but she wasn’t stupid.
The second one’s smile showed off his dimples. Recognition spiked through her.
A slight nod
confirmed her guess. “So much for the disguise.”
Her best friend and
sometimes lover. He’d suggested Paris. Shoot, he’d even driven her to the
airport. Then clearly hopped the next flight to join her.
She looked at him
in puzzlement while he doffed the hat and whipped off the mask. Long fingers
ruffled his brown hair into place. He stuffed the disguise into a canvas duffel
draped over his shoulder.
Dozens of questions
flooded her mind, but only one came out. “What’s a cataphile?”
“Someone who loves
the Paris underground. You wanted excitement and adventure.” He swept his arms
out to encompass the city. “This is it.”
“What...what are we
going to do?” Lydia hated when her voice trembled.
The deep voiced man
leaned in. “Baby...we’re going to fuck you.”