"What is it?" Francois asked, leaning over.
"The man up there was saying this wasn't like Disneyland," I whispered. "I guess he thought France would be like It's A Small World or something."
Francois laughed quietly and nodded. "That happens a lot. And what are your expectations?"
"Romance, excitement, lights, and good food," I replied. "Think Paris can provide all of that?"
“That and more," Francois purred in my ear. "In fact, if you aren’t careful, you may end up seduced by it."
The soft whimper in my throat made us both chuckle, mine weaker than his. It was one of the other differences between the brothers. With Felix, the month in Mexico had been filled with intimate, sensual encounters that were as much explorations of each other's souls as they were of our bodies. We'd had sex in bed mostly, where I was left blissfully satisfied every time.
With Francois though, there was a thrill of adventure and naughtiness. With just a single phrase or twinkle in his eye, I was left helplessly aroused, ready to jump his bones in just about any situation. For us, sex was athletic, passionate, and hot. We'd pushed boundaries that I'd never done before, including in the waters of the Gulf of California while Felix rested on the sand only fifty yards away.
"Always talking about seductions, tsk tsk. You are too naughty, Francois. Where does that come from?" I asked, patting his knee. "You know I'm only one woman."
"With a depth of soul more than able to handle two men," he whispered back. "But shhh, we don't want to scare the tourists too much. They might think us Europeans as nothing but a bunch of sex-crazed maniacs."
"You are a sex-crazed maniac," I teased back, causing him to give me another one of his rakish smiles. With his glistening white teeth, slightly dusky skin from his Romani heritage, and rugged good looks from the blend of his backgrounds, my body tingled, most of it focusing between my legs. The fact that I was wearing form-fitting jeans added to the tingles.
The ride into Paris was sweet agony with my body humming and Francois knew it. Every time I started to regain my composure, he'd supposedly innocently brush his forearm against mine, or his knee would rub against my thigh. It was just enough, even through the winter clothes we were wearing, to keep me trembling. "You're being incorrigible," I hissed at one point when his tricep just happened to rub against the side of my breast, my nipple hardening to a pebble inside my bra. "I swear I'm going to spank you for it."
"Oh, you like that too?" he whispered with a grin. "Careful, you just might get the chance."
Felix, on the other hand, just rolled his eyes at our banter. For him, sexual talk was usually confined to more private encounters, and he was never as blatant with his affections in public as Francois.
The bus rumbled to a stop near the Arc D'Triumph, and everyone got off. From there we took a taxi, leaving the tourists to their organized group. Taxis in France are much smaller than the ones I'd gotten used to in Los Angeles, and I felt jammed in, even with just Felix in the back seat.
I was shocked when we stopped on a wide, cobblestone street next to the river. "What are we doing here?" I asked, looking around. There were no apartments or houses nearby. "I thought we'd drop our bags at the house, you said."
"Poor choice of words on our part," Felix said apologetically. "It’s not technically a house," he finished, pointing to a barge on the river. "This is our house within Paris. Francois and I thought that you would enjoy a day or two here before we go to the Rhone Valley."
"You live in a houseboat?" I asked, and Francois shook his head.
"A barge, technically. While French barges can be powered, this one has no motor, and must be towed if we want it taken in for repairs or maintenance. Speaking of which, Felix, you did call for the annual maintenance, right?”
"Yes, before Charani came up here to visit," Felix said. He shouldered his bag as well as mine and led the way to the barge. "It was done before she arrived I think."
"Who is Charani?" I asked. There was so much I still had to learn about them. It wasn't that they were unwilling to share information, they answered everything I could think of with candor. But, growing up as the children of an international art thief and then going on to their own career, they weren’t the type to volunteer personal information unless I asked them directly.
"My mother," Francois said with a smile. "You’ll have a chance to meet her and Felix's mother soon."
I smiled and shrugged as we crossed the gangplank onto the barge. "Any advice? I'm not sure how to handle that part. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I'm with two men who are half brothers, yet were born minutes apart."