Page 68 of Sugar Baby Mine

And when we get to the room, I flop on the plush bed and stareup at the ceiling, feeling a little bit nostalgic—like I’m waiting to meet my Paolo, except we already know how this movie ends and my Gordo is standing right here as he unpacks our suitcases.

Everything about the room is maximalist and vibrant as I trace the people painted into the dark pink ceiling with a finger in the air. They look like they’re out of a classic painting I couldn’t begin to tell you the name of.

“Since my meeting isn’t until tomorrow morning, dealer’s choice on what we do today.”

I hum, finishing the outline of the woman’s flowing, white dress before dropping my hand to the sheets and running my fingers along them like I can sus out the thread. Six hundred? Eight hundred?

“Eating. Shopping.Gelato.” I’m just a little giddy, already thinking about what flavor I want to try first as I stretch my arms above my head and relax into the mattress. I already don’t want to leave.

“Mmm, do you want a shower and change of clothes first?”

Now that I think about it, that sounds kind of nice. It’s late morning here, and even though I slept on the plane, it wasn’t the greatest rest I’ve ever gotten—which is saying something. But the time change is definitely doing something to me.

“Only if you wash my hair for me,” I say, eyes fluttering shut at the memory of his hands working through my hair.

His fingers circle around my ankle, and he drags me down to the end of the bed in one swift movement. My knees automatically lift to frame his hips as he steps between my legs.

“And what else can I do for you, little bird?” Ben asks, his gaze sweeping up my body. Even when I’m dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, he makes me feel worthy of being wanted.

I lift a socked foot, pressing into his chest to hold him off of leaning into me before I lose all self-control. It’s going to be hard enough to resist him in the shower.Spoiler alert: I can’t.

“Do you know how to braid hair?”

His head tilts, fingers tracing under the hem of my pants and working the fabric up on my calf so his fingers trace my skin, making my breath catch. “Yeah, actually. Perks of having nieces, I suppose. You want me to braid your hair for you?”

“Yes, please.”

Ben runs a brush through my wet hair as I sit on the bedroom floor. If it were night time, I’d ask him to do it until I was so sleepy I couldn’t keep my eyes open. But as it is, it relaxes my nerves enough that I’m not constantly thinking of everyone speaking Italian around us when we go out.

“Do you want a French braid or Dutch braid?”

My eyebrows raise, looking over my shoulder at him before turning back to the spread of skincare in front of me. “I didn’t know there were different kinds, honestly. Whichever you prefer.”

“My brother has two daughters under the age of ten, so I picked up some things from my sister-in-law when it comes to their hair.”

“That’s really sweet. My sister, Isabelle, has twin boys. They’re almost six now and into all things playing in the dirt. I’m waiting for my sister to have another in hopes it might be a girl, but I’m not sure she wants any more.”

“That’d be tough,” Ben muses, fingers starting at the top of my head and beginning to separate the strands of my hair into sections. “Twins are a lot to deal with regardless. Boys can be wild.”

“And they absolutely are. I don’t blame her.” I pop open the lid of my toner and shake the liquid out into the palm of my hand to press to my skin.

He starts crossing the sections of hair over each other, makingsure to pull tight. My head tilts back to the pull as he works down the back of my head. I brush my bangs out with my fingers once I’ve got my moisturizer and sunscreen on.

He holds his hand over my shoulder once he gets to the end of the strands. “Hair tie?”

I hold my wrist up and he pulls the tie off, finishing my braid.

“All done. Take a look.”

I lift up off the floor with his assistance, and he leans back on the bed as I head toward the mirror and turn around to look over my shoulder. Not a hair out of place. Now my hair is going to dry in tighter waves than usual, and I relish that I won’t have to do much tomorrow except take the braid out.

“It looks good,” I say, impressed. “You could charge for your services.”

“I’ll accept payment in the form of you taking my dick in your tight little ass later.”

I nearly choke on spit. He looks much too smug about it, sitting there on the bed and appraising me still in my towel.

“Just gonna spring that on me, huh?”

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