Page 102 of Miami Ice

“Nothing makes a man harder than picking crab shell out of his woman’s hair.”

I blush, and he laughs wickedly.

“S’cute,” he says as he cuts a piece of steak.

S’cute.I think I’m going to have to add Beckham’s version of cute to my vocabulary.

I eat a good portion of my crab, and Beckham polishes off everything on his plate, plus some from mine. We should be finished, but I can’t resist a slice of Key lime pie fordessert. When it’s brought to the table, I dive in, getting that combination of tart limes, creamy filling, and whipped cream topping with the graham cracker crumb crust, and let out a happy groan.

“This is so delicious.”

Beckham’s eyes are zeroed in on my mouth. I find my pulse quickening in response to the desire I see kindling in them.

“I want to taste it. On your mouth.”

Ooh!

“I can take this back to your room for later,” I suggest.

“Good girl.”

I giggle at that, and he flags down our server, telling her we need the bill and the Key lime pie boxed up to go. Before long, Beckham is rising from his seat, and comes around to help me out of my chair. As I put my hand in his and he helps me rise, I stand close to him, close enough to smell his cologne mixing with the salty air of the ocean, and all I want to do is bury myself in his neck and breathe him in.

Beckham clasps his hand around mine, and we make our way out of the restaurant and back into the hotel. We reach the elevator bank, and a group of people join us, but they’re all talking about Antoni Nowak and going to the basketball game tomorrow. Beckham slips behind me, drawing one of his arms around my waist, and pulls my back into his chest. Then he dips his head next to mine, his breath warm against my cheek.

“This is Antoni’s town,” he murmurs against my ear. “I kind of like that I can fly under the radar. And do things like kiss my girl while waiting for an elevator.”

Then his lips brush against my temple, sending goose bumps sweeping over my skin. I wrap my hands over his forearm, staring down at the tattoo art on his skin, marveling that I can trace my fingers over his ink.

I can do this because I’m his girl.

The elevator chimes, and as people come off, those of us waiting step on. Beckham ushers me to the back of the elevator, stepping behind me once again, placing his forearm securely around me and drawing my back flush with his chest. His warmth radiates through the fabric of my blouse, sending a shiver through me. I can feel his muscles. His heat. And the scent of him is wrapping around me and causing my pulse to pound in my throat.

Because I know soon this elevator will be stopping on his floor. We’ll be in his room.

Where his bed will be the main feature.

Normally this might put a bit of anxiety in me. Like wondering what will happen or what Beckham expects from me.

But that was before last night under the Christmas tree. We made out for hours, kissing and touching each other. Tonight we can go a bit further, but Beckham knows I don’t want to rush into sex straightaway. I told him I want to have all the feelings when I have sex again, and he respected that.

So I’m not anxious.

I’m actually excited to tumble into his bed and explore that body of his tonight.

Wherever that might take us.

Ding!

The elevator stops on the tenth floor, which is Beckham’s. We cut through the crowd, and he takes my hand in his and leads me out of it. My heart thuds against my chest with each step we take down the posh hallway, passing modern art paintings and sleek silver sconces, and finally Beckham stops at his room. He lets go off my hand and retrieves his wallet, removing his key card and tapping it against the lock. As the door clicks open, I realize I’m about to step into his hotel room.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Beckham allows me to step through first. The room is dark, and suddenly I see two glowing green eyes staring up at me from a table at the far end of the room.

“Oh! Minnie Pinny!” I exclaim.

Beckham flips on a light, and sure enough, a black tuxedo cat is staring back at me. I put down my bag with the container of Key lime pie on the dresser, and just as I’m about to move closer to Minnie, Beckham’s arm snakes around my waist once again, drawing my back flush with his chest. His head dips down next to mine, and suddenly his lips are close to my ear.

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