Page 86 of The Last Good Man

He tosses them on the nightstand, displeased, and brings me the tray of strawberries and a full glass of champagne.

“I’ll eat strawberries first,” I say, and he hands me the fruit while placing my drink next to his cigarettes.

His clothes—dark jeans, a long-sleeved top, socks, and a belt—are all good quality. The only things that add a glint to his somber attire are his buckle, necklace, chiseled rings, and soulful eyes.

“How come a man like you had nothing better to do than to drive out of New York on a Saturday night?” I ask, propping myself up on an elbow and facing him while he lies down, a big pillow at his back, and smiles.

“How come a woman like you had planned to spend the night alone in a honeymoon suite while actively dating?”

I grin.

“I’m no longer dating. You don’t allow me to do that.”

He laughs.

“You’re cute. I asked you not to date. That doesn’t mean those suckers won’t come back for seconds.”

“First off, there are no suckers as in plural. And then there are no seconds. I didn’t get that far withhim.”

“What about the others?”

He picks up a strawberry from the tray between us and brings it to my lips. I lock my lips around it and sink my teeth into it.

The fruit is ripe, flavorful, and juicy, while the layer of chocolate is thin and brittle.

It melts in my mouth.

“The others as in…?”

“The ones before this one?”

I chew on my fruit thoughtfully while he enjoys the view and brushes off a speck of chocolate from my lips before sucking his finger clean.

“Have some,” I invite him. “They’rereally good.”

He doesn’t make the slightest move, so I pick one myself, bring it to his lips, and push it against his mouth.

He resists me for a moment, amused by my effort, before he takes the whole treat and wraps his lips around my finger, keeping me hostage.

Something happens then, and I lean closer to him, my eyes hovering over his mouth.

He releases my finger and squashes the chocolate-dipped strawberry between his teeth while I moveevencloser… So close that the hard tips of my breasts brush against the soft fabric of his top, and my body is a mere inch away from his.

I’m no longer propped on my elbow, but my hand is still connected to the covers when I bring my other hand to his face and center my eyes on his mouth.

Petals slide off, landing on the floor, as I bring my lips to his and kiss his fruit-and-chocolate-scented mouth.

He holds me in his arms, his fingers fanned over my lower back before dipping down and palming my butt.

“If you kiss me like that,” he says. “We won’t be able to avoid sex.”

Those words coming from his mouth make my insides tremble.

“Yes, you’re right,” I say, tearing my mouth away from his. “Although we haven’t even kissed,” I say, and he gives me a nasal chuckle that electrifies my skin.

We’re going through this like we’re in high school.

He says something, and I pull back.

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