Yes…this was…nice. She liked nice.

“What’s next? The Louvre or the Eiffel Tower?” he asked.

She was about to respond when she caught sight of a small corner shop with a dozen birdcages hanging just inside the shop window. An olive-skinned man with a colorful shirt was tending to the cages. The birds in the cages were colorful and chirping excitedly. Something about the sight enthralled Callie. The man seemed to notice her fascination and waved a hand for Callie to come closer for a better look.

“Callie, he’s one of many Paris gypsies,” Wes said, but he followed her as she crossed the street to get a closer look at the little shop full of birds. She walked through the open door and came over to the birdcages.

“Oh, Wes, they’re beautiful. Look.” She shot him an excited smile before gazing at the nearest cage, which had a pair of lovebirds. Their warm tropical-colored feathers and little curved beaks made them irresistible. Hopping from wooden bar to wooden bar in their cages, they fluttered and chirped, moving as a pair, always seemingly aware of each other. Like two sides of a perfect coin. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she watched them. Their sweet notes, the little coos and chirps, and the trills of their songs were enchanting.

“You like my birds?” The man’s voice was heavily accented but he spoke English well.

Callie couldn’t resist nodding eagerly and slipping one finger between the bars. One of the lovebirds gave a delicate exploring peck at her finger. The sensation tickled and she laughed.

“They’re wonderful,” Callie said. “Simply wonderful.”

“Then they are yours.” The man reached up to unhook the cage.

“Oh no! I couldn’t, but thank you,” Callie said and sighed. There was no way she could bring the birds home to Colorado.

Wes was watching her, a curious expression on his face. He held out a handful of euros and placed them in the man’s palm.

“Thank you, Monsieur. We will take the birds.” He helped her remove the cage from its hook on the stand and he handed it to Callie, who took it, mouth gaping open. The man had just bought her a pair of lovebirds in Paris. He must have written the book on seduction.

“Wes—”

“You want them. I want you to have them,” he answered simply.

The gypsy man’s dark eyes glinted with mischief and an ancient knowing.

“Mates for life.” The gypsy patted her hand with a secretive smile. Callie grinned and carried the birdcage outside. When she glanced behind her she saw Wes was still inside.

He lingered in the shop a moment longer, studying the jewelry and other odds and ends the gypsy was selling. A basket of bangle bracelets caught his eye. They were gold on the inside but the outside was dark blue with golden chain links painted into the blue. A little grin curved his lips. He slipped the gypsy a few euros to buy the bracelets, and then exited the shop. He caught up with Callie, who was only a few feet away, still focused on the lovebirds.

“Here.” He slipped one bangle on each of her wrists. “There, those look beautiful against your skin.” He stroked her flesh where it met the metal of the bangles.

Callie lifted one hand up to study the gilded bracelet on her right wrist, admiring the painted chain links. Something inside her shivered at the thought of Wes and chains together in the same sentence. They were just bracelets, yet the way he’d put them on her, the possessive gleam in his eyes. Heat blossomed in the pit of her belly and farther down. Was this a prelude to something else, a darker hint of what Wes wished to do to her? There was so much about him and his desires that were still a mystery to her.

“Let me call Michel. He’ll take the birds back to the apartment and then take us to the Eiffel Tower.”

Callie picked up the cage and followed him as he began to walk out of Montmartre to an easier spot for the car to pick them up.

“I can’t believe you just bought me birds,” she said. She had never made an impulsive buy in her life, except maybe one black bra that she never wore because it didn’t belong on the ranch and she was always working.

Wes laughed. “If you had seen your face when you looked at those birds you would have bought them, too.”

She tugged his sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Wes, you can’t keep buying me everything I want.”

“Why not?” He stroked the cardboard tube that held her portrait and focused a pensive stare on her.

“What?” His question completely confused her.

“Why can’t I buy you everything you want?” His question came out as a challenge and for a second Callie just stared at him. She hadn’t thought that far ahead about the point she was trying to make in this outlandish discussion.

“Because…because I don’t deserve it. I like to pay my own way and if I can’t afford it then I don’t buy it.”

Wes’s lips slid into a sinful smile. “Darling, you deserve a lot more than you know. And I can do whatever I want with my money. If I want to buy a private island just for you, then I will.”

Callie crossed her arms over her chest and glowered. “I wouldn’t go to that island.”

For some reason he burst out laughing. “Oh, you’d go. I’d carry you there over my shoulder if necessary.”

“You’d have to catch me first,” Callie muttered.

Her words lit a feral spark in his eyes that made her worried and aroused at the same time.

“Someday you and I will play a capture game. Do you know what that is?”

Callie’s throat was suddenly dry and she shook her head.

Wes cupped her chin, then slid his fingers along the column of her throat, not even attempting to hide the blazing hunger in his eyes.

“A capture game is where I let you loose in a controlled space. You have to run from me, but when I catch you…I can do anything to you, except cross your hard limits.”

Hard limits. She knew what that was. Anything she absolutely would not do. At least that was how hard limits were discussed in the novels she’d read. Maybe she should have Wes explain for clarity’s sake.

“What are hard limits?” She inwardly cringed at how soft and husky her voice was. She was still mad at him for buying everything for her. They’d have to return to that subject soon.

“Hard limits are what a submissive absolutely refuses to do. These are serious things that are well beyond ‘the red zone’ we discussed. You will need to think about what your limits are. Things that aren’t just uncomfortable, but unthinkable. Things that terrify you to the point of panic where you can’t think. I never want you scared. Nervous anticipation is different and can be very rewarding later when you finally come apart in my arms.” He continued to stroke her throat.

Hard limits. What were her hard limits?

“Think on it,” he encouraged, and then he pulled his cell phone out to call Michel.

Callie was still pondering what her limits might be when Michel pulled up to the curb.

“Quick, let’s take a photo of the birds,” she begged. She wanted to make sure she captured this moment. She might as well use the expensive phone he’d given her. When she pulled out the phone and held her hand out so she could take a picture of herself, the birds, and Wes, he growled.

“I don’t do selfies.” He took the phone from her hand and passed it to Michel.

“Pour moi, merci,” he said to the grinning driver.

“Get close to Monsieur Wes, mademoiselle.” Michel waved a hand to indicate they should get closer.

Callie lifted the small birdcage up and Wes put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m humoring you, darling.” He leaned his head down to murmur in her ear. “I don’t like photos of myself, so you will owe me.”

Click-click. Michel took the photo and Callie turned her head to stare up at Wes.

“Owe you?” Why did he make that sound so good and yet so bad at the same time?

“Yes, you owe me for this. Payment comes tonight, no backing out.” He brushed a thumb over her lips and a pulse beat hard in her as though nerves were connected to her entire body to whatever spot he touched.