Page 137 of Miami Ice

But I know he needs his rest.

Especially after having some incredible sex last night.

I have to bite my tongue to hold back laughter. I tried to be all sexy with my condensed milk, dipping my finger in it and putting it to his lips. But when Beckham sucked on it, the lookof disgust on his face had me doubled over in hysterics. I have committed to memory what he told me last night.

“You know I love the idea of sucking anything off your body, Cupcake. But if it’s going to be that, I’m going to throw up.”

Luckily, I had a solution for that. I unbuttoned his dress shirt and got him out of it, pushed him back toward the kitchen table, and demanded he lie down on it. Beckham complied. Then I climbed on top of him, straddling him, and drizzled some of that liquid gold across his abs and licked it off him.

I still can’t believe I did that. WHO AM I?

A satisfied smile passes over my lips.

I’m a woman who enjoyed some hot sex by turning Beckham into a quivering pleading mess before he took me right there on the table.

And he took me again when we were in the shower, cleaning up our condensed milk experiment.

I’m definitely tired, but I have ZERO regrets over staying up last night.

I frown. But I do have to get out of this bed, and that I do regret. I like being here with Beckham. Feeling his strong arm draped protectively across my body. Hearing the even sound of his breathing. Inhaling the scent of soap on his skin.

But I’ll have to linger in this space another time. I gently lift his arm, and as soon as I move it, he stirs, and his eyes flutter open. “Stay,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.

I smile at him. “I wish I could. But I have to get ready to go to the show.”

He frowns. Between that frown and his messed-up hair, I have a glimpse of what Beckham must have looked like as a little boy.

S’cute,I think, my heart warming.

I prop myself up and brush a kiss upon his forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you later.”

Beckham grabs my wrist, tugging me toward him. His other hand snakes up to the back of my head, drawing me close, and then his mouth is on mine as he gives me a long, lingering kiss.

Mmm.

He breaks the kiss. “I can get up with you.”

“No, please don’t. You have practice later. You need to sleep.”

He scowls.

I grin. “Go back to sleep, Grumpy. I’ll see you when you come visit me at the show. And while I love the fact that you are willing to get up with me at four-thirty in the morning, I think I love the fact that you are willing to show up at something called theHolly Jolly Christmas Bazaarmore.”

Now he really scowls.

I giggle and give him one more kiss. “I can’t tell if that scowl is for the hour or the name of the show.”

“Both,” Beckham declares.

I laugh, and he smiles.

“Sleep,” I insist. “And I’ll see you later.”

He drops his hand from my wrist, and I slip out of bed. I retrieve the clothing I’d laid out on the dresser and go into the bathroom to change. I have to say, one advantage to the late-night shower is the fact that I don’t have to take one this morning. I flip on the lights, and as soon as I see my reflection, I nearly groan.

The dark shadows under my eyes are HIDEOUS.

Thank goodness I’m a believer in undereye brightener and have some in my makeup bag. Because I’m in desperate need of it this morning.

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