Page 166 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Oh!” She presses her lips together, clasps her towel to her chest, sits up, and blurts, “Thank you. That was wonderful, but we’re done.”
My masseuse shakes her finger. “No. Not done.”
“Yes,” Riles affirms, “we are. You were both fabulous.”
Muttering something in another language, the woman shrugs at her colleague before they wash their hands and leave the room.
“Thank fuck for that,” I say, hanging my head.
“Sooo, youenjoyedyourself then?” Riles drawls.
I pin her with my stare. “Ienjoyedlistening to you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You were moaning.”
“Was I?”
I roll my neck. “Yep.”
“Sorry. It was… good.”
“I could tell,” I deadpan.
Sliding off her bed, she moves closer and trails her fingertip down my back. “Turn over.”
I almost choke. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Given my current state, that’s not a good idea.”
“I think it’s a very good idea.”
“Riles,” I warn.
“What?”
“Don’t tease me. My restraint is thin.”
“So is mine.”
“I thought you wanted to wait.”
She drops her towel.
Fuuuck!
Slowly rising, my eyes not leaving her milky skin and pebbled nipples, I plant my feet on the ground, slide my hands onto her hips, and tug her closer, my hard-on pressing against her stomach. She sucks in a breath and reaches down, cupping her hand over me and gently squeezing.
I hiss. “We need to leave.”
“Do we?” she prompts, her voice raspy and sexy as hell.
“Riles”—I crawl my fingers up her side and palm her breast—“I can’t do all the things I want to do to you here. So yes, we’re leaving.” I smash my lips to hers while fumbling with the robe at the end of her bed. “Put this on.”
“Shouldn’t we get dressed?”
