Page 35 of The Barista's Beloved

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They stumbled giggling into the hotel room, and Ben stopped dead, making Maeve bump into him. She peeked around his broad shoulders to see what had surprised him and grinned. “That sponsor life,” she teased. “It’s pretty good, eh?”

He blew out a breath. “You’re telling me. Here I was just going to take you home and hope you’d let me in the door. You’re kicking it up a notch, woman.”

She laughed. The suite was gorgeous. She’d taken advantage of the perk once or twice before, although not recently. This particular room was definitely one of the nicer ones she’d been in. A crystal chandelier hung over their heads, lighting the way down a short hallway that opened up into a living area decorated with plush sofas and an armchair that made her want to open a romance novel and dive into it immediately. Champagne was chilling on the small dining table by the panoramic window that overlooked the city’s lights flickering off the water of the bay. She headed toward it. “Bubbly?”

“Sure.” He prowled through the room, running his hand along the upholstery of the furniture. “But then let’s check out the important room.”

“Oh, you mean the bathroom?”

“Very funny.” He pretended to glower at her. “For all you know, I need a nice hot bath after all that yelling.”

She felt her face heat. “I get a little excited about the game.”

“So I noticed.” He came closer to her, eyes darkening. “I especially liked when you encouraged the Irish team to murder their opponents.”

“I—”

“I never knew you were so bloodthirsty.” He captured her waist and tugged her towards him. “I like it.”

“You do?” It came out in a squeak, and she cleared her throat. “You do?” Her second attempt wasn’t much better.

“Oh, yes. Maeve Brennan’s dark side. She seems so nice. Until you know…” he paused dramatically. “Her deep, dark secret.”

“Wait, what’s my deep, dark secret?”

“Um, your inclination toward murder, obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “I’d be in fear for my life if I played rugby.”

“It’s a good thing you’re safe.” She giggled. “I have other plans for you.”

“Ooo, I like the sound of that.” He dipped his head forward and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless when they finally parted. “Thanks for showing me your dark side.”

“Thanks for buying the tickets.” She laughed. “You brought this upon yourself.”

“I’m glad I did.” He wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her away from the table. “Let’s go check out that other room.”

“Good plan,” she murmured, distracted by the feel of his hand on hers. When he touched her, it felt like she’d been covered in snow that was rapidly melting in warm spring sunshine. She wanted to melt all the way. “The bedroom it is.”

They made their way through the suite, champagne forgotten, and paused in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Good god, this room is made for sex.” Ben said it reverently, nearly whispering, as though they’d stumbled upon a hidden temple.

Maeve couldn’t help but agree. The bed was the biggest she’d ever seen, dwarfing the king sized one her brother owned. She’d once been on a tour of a historic castle back in her school days; the bed here was oddly reminiscent of the one that had been in the lord’s bedchamber.

While the fabrics in the living room of the suite were cool, beachy blues and grays, here in the bedroom it was all reds and soft browns. Most of the space was taken up by the giant bed, while a door to the bathroom was tucked off to the side. Next to it was a built-in gas fireplace mounted high on the wall, a long, slender rectangle filled with quietly flickering flames. A raw-edged wood mantle held a few candles, an ornamental dish, and a pair of solid crystal tumblers with a matching decanter full of what looked like it might be bourbon. And underneath that—Maeve’s eyes widened as they fell on the large faux-fur rug. It was more than big enough for two bodies, and she felt a shiver run through her at the idea of being under Ben, her back pressed into the downy softness.

She glanced at him, and realized that he was watching her. His eyes flicked between her and the rug, and he raised one eyebrow. His smile was slow and wicked. “Having some thoughts?”

She swallowed. “Maybe a few.”

“Me too.”

And then his hands were on her, and somehow her shirt was gone, and her fingers were clawing their way underneath his shirt to find his satin skin. His mouth fastened on her nipple, sucking gently through her bra until she was whimpering. His only response was to let her pull his shirt over his head as he switched sides to give the same attention to her other breast.

She arched her back as he slid a finger around the clasps of her bra. Her breasts, now unconfined, flattened against his bare chest and she hissed in a breath at the vibrant contact. His mouth moved to her throat, nipping lightly, and she retaliated by working her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She slid her fingers as far as they could reach, working her way through silky hair to brush against the base of his cock. It was his turn to suck in a breath. She grinned.

“You’re overdressed,” he muttered.

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