Page 13 of Feast

“I’d rather not, actually. I kind of like the mysterious stranger situation we’ve got going.” She shifted in the chair, crossing her legs to squeeze her thighs together. It wouldn’t do anything to ease the ache between them, but she could enjoy it more. “That’s not a deal breaker for you, is it?”

“No,” he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “But I refuse to call the woman I’m fucking by a seat number.”

The woman I’m fuckingwas a simple descriptive phrase, but it made the pulse pound between her legs. “Call me whatever you want.”

The gleam in his eyes intensified. “Whatever I want?”

“I get veto power there, too,” she warned him.

He inclined his head in agreement. “And what will you call me?”

She licked her lips. “How do you feel about Sir?”

His gaze sharpened. “A little formal for my taste. But if it works for you, it’s fine with me.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

They stared at each other for a moment, the air practically vibrating with sexual tension. She stood it for about ten seconds. “Well? I thought you said you wanted to be in charge?”

His lips twitched, making his mustache quiver. “I did say that.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Just that,” he said and pushed to his feet. He gathered the debris from their meal, strode five steps to dump it in a trash can, then returned to the table to stand in front of her, one hand outstretched in silent command.

She answered it eagerly, putting her hand in his and allowing him to pull her to her feet. He twined his fingers with hers, those delightful callouses scraping against skin that already felt overly sensitive, and began to walk toward the elevators.

“We need condoms,” she told him, her voice breathless with anticipation.

“I called room service before I came down,” he said and towed her into an empty elevator and jabbed the button for his floor. “They’re delivering.”

“Oh,” she said and smiled as the doors slid smoothly shut. “Good.”

3

He kept hold of her hand on the ride up to his floor, and when they stepped off used his grip to lead her down the hall. She didn’t mind. He’d started rubbing his thumb along the outside of her wrist in the elevator, and it was deliciously, delightfully arousing. By the time he unlocked his hotel room door she was nearly dizzy with eager anticipation.

He ushered her in, shut the door behind them, and began walking forward. “Do you have to use the bathroom?”

Facing him, she backed up, keeping two paces ahead. “No.”

He moved further into the room, his dark eyes locked on hers. “Want to talk some more?”

“Not really.” She risked a glance around and realized he’d herded her into the middle of the room, the wide window showcasing the lit-up strip behind her and the bed only a few steps away.

She lifted her gaze back to his, enjoying the little jolt that ran through her at the look in his eyes. While she was still thinking clearly enough to remember, she pulled her phone and her room key out of her pocket and tossed them on the little table in the seating area behind her. “When are the condoms supposed to get here?”

He stripped off the flannel shirt and tossed it aside, then toed off his boots. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

She ate up the view. The t-shirt was snug enough to show off the firm muscles beneath, and when he tossed the flannel aside it rode up, just enough to show off a slice of belly, pale with a tantalizing ribbon of hair arrowing into the waistband of his jeans. Then he whipped it over his head, and saliva pooled in her mouth.

His chest was covered in thick, dark fur that fanned out over his pectorals, then shrank down to a thin line that bisected his abs. Her fingers itched to pet it, and she had actually taken a step forward to do just that when there was a knock on the door.

He tossed the t-shirt after the flannel and aimed a stern look at her. “Don’t move,” he ordered and went to answer the knock.

She stood where she was, feet rooted to the spot by the command and her own arousal, and after a few seconds he was back with a box of condoms.

He set them on the nightstand, then resumed his spot at the foot of the bed. “Your turn.”

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