Page 37 of My Ex's Best Friend

I wait until we’re safely on the ground, then nudge her awake. A wry smile tugs at my lips, and I lean over, gently shaking her shoulder. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we’ve arrived.”

She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and the remnants of sleep linger in the corners of her eyes for a moment.

I can’t help but tease. “You know, you have the most picturesque sleeping face. A real work of art.”

She rolls her eyes, a playful scoff escaping her lips. “Oh, spare me the compliments, Jake.”

I grin at her.

It’s true, though. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even asleep.

But as she shifts in her seat, her gaze catches the sight of Paris unfolding outside the window. The transformation on her face is palpable – from the remnants of sleep to the awe-inspired gaze.

“So, Paris is the only thing that can render you speechless,” I say as I observe her.

She turns to me with a roll of her eyes before returning her gaze to the window.

"Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with a genuine sense of wonder. "I can't believe we're actually here."

“And you missed the best part—Eiffel Tower. Saw it right before we landed,” I say.

She turns to me. “Shut up.”

“It’s true. Cross my heart and all.”

“No way,” she groans, covering her face with her hands.

I’ve half a mind to go up to the pilot to tell him to take us up again, as insane as it may sound, but then I remind myself she will be able to see it when we fly back.

My thought seems to materialize him because he appears with the hostess at the end of the row. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

“It was great and very comfortable, thank you,” I say politely.

“Everything was awesome,” Kiera says.

The pilot opens the door while I gather my stuff.

When I turn to Kiera, she’s fixing her hair.

“I know you’re staring, Jake,” Kiera says. Before I can deny it, she adds. “I know I look like Yeti right now.”

With a practiced ease, she gathers the blonde strands into a bun, a simple yet elegant transformation, and all I can do is gape at her as something stirs inside of me.

“You look fine,” I say as I start walking down the aisle. I need to get my head straight. How can watching someone fix their hair make me horny?

I try to adjust myself, so the bulge isn’t that obvious. It’s not because of Kiera. It’s just morning wood. It has nothing to do with her elegant neck peeking out of her bun, begging me to trail my lips down it. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that I can see her hardened nipples through her gauzy blouse.

Outside, a car is already waiting on the tarmac to take us to my place just outside the city.

As we ride, the city comes alive with the hues of the early morning sun, casting a golden glow on historic buildings and quaint boulevards. I sit back against my chair. I’m used to the sights by now, having traveled through these streets more times than I can count.

Kiera, on the other hand, is like a child in a candy store. Her reactions are a blend of delighted gasps and spontaneous picture-taking. It's amusing to see her embrace the city with such unabashed enthusiasm.

"Look at that architecture! Did you see that café? Oh, the Seine looks breathtaking!

Can you believe people get to live here?" she exclaims, her eyes wide with admiration. "I've seen it in movies, but it's even more amazing in person!"

"It's a pretty special place," I respond, staring at her.

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