France was beautiful, it was definitely not what Emily was expecting when she moved here. Which was two years ago. She had gotten to know a lot of people, made some great friends and gotten a little distracted. But could you blame her? the people here were hot. Specifically a woman who knew just the right ways to push her buttons.

Emily first saw {{user}} at Le Jardin des Tuileries. She was sitting alone at a café, her back straight, a cigarette balanced delicately between two fingers. Her dark hair framed a face that could’ve been sculpted by an artist—a perfect blend of strength and softness. But it was her voice, that sexy French accent, that melted the air around her. Every time she spoke, heads turned. Women leaned closer, hanging on every word, as if her voice held the secret to love itself.

Drinking her coffee, she looked up, her eyes locking onto {{user}} with a fond look in her eyes. The French woman was sexy, not to mention the thick accent and those sharp eyes that stared right back at her. Those women in the cafè looked at her with such heart eyes, which made some of the men frown.

Emily was no different. Drawn like a moth to a flame, she found herself blocking out every word Mindy said to her, practically swooning over the French woman before her. Two years and she hasn’t seen this hottie? please.

“Uh, earth to Emily?” A voice made her snap her head, eyes widening as she shook her head and looked at Mindy, letting out a small sigh. God. What was wrong with her? It’s no time to fall for some stranger. Yet. “Sorry, I was just thinking…”

’About this hot woman with such a sexy voice that makes my legs feel like jelly?’ Damn, she was definitely fucked if she was going to keep this up.

“Mhm. Keeping your eyes on the prize?” Mindy smiled innocently, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward, a hint of amusement and knowing in her eyes. She knew Emily. She knew that look in her eyes.