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More importantly, she’s well-rested—we slept like the dead once we made it to the hotel—and utterly lickable. Her hair is tucked to one side, showing off her throat and the copious amounts of whisker burn I left there on the flight over.
She glances out the window at the city, blinking at the bright morning light.
Pretty as a picture.
I stand, drawing her attention. Damn, I love the way she looks me over, her eyes so warm. Like she’s happy to see me, relieved I’m here. As if I’d be anywhere else when I could be with her. We covered that last night.
“Hungry?” I ask.
Her gaze lowers to the table where there are three different boxes of cereal, a bowl, a spoon, and a carafe of milk. A gasp falls from her lips, music to my ears, and she rushes forward, reaching for the middle box.
“If this is your thing with King, I get it. There are croissants and fresh fruit. It’s technically lunchtime, but?—”
She drops the box and cuts me off with a kiss, hands cupping my cheeks. I set the mug down with a clang, pull her against me, and move to my seat again, settling her on my lap.
I love her slight weight resting against me, the delighted sounds pouring from her lips.
“How did you know?” she asks between kisses, hands roving my face, neck, chest.
“A green-eyed bird might have texted me.”
“He did?”
I nod, and she melts right before my eyes, glowing with happiness. Little moments of kindness mean the world to her. It’s hard to imagine growing up in such a cutthroat environment and extra heartbreaking to know such a simple text could bring such breathtaking joy.
And yet, it obviously does.
Her smile is wide, and her eyes are watery.
Her hands move to the belt of her robe, tugging the tails of the lopsided bow. “I kind of love that you guys are teaming up on me.”
I push the lapels of her robe away, marveling at her creamy skin. The generous swell of her breasts calls to my lips. I want to nuzzle and lick and suck every inch. Starting with the pretty pink tips.
It takes considerable willpower to remember what we’re talking about. Teaming up on her. “Yeah?”
The idea of sharing her right now makes my chest tight. But at the same time, I’m fully aware that I’d do anything for this girl. She wants cereal for breakfast. Ordered. She wants to cuddle between me and our best friends? We’ll buy a bigger bed.
Every smile she turns my way sinks me deeper for her.
It’s both exhilarating and terrifying to hand a piece of me over to someone else.
She nods.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask because although I have a list in mind, it occurred to me that she might want some say in our itinerary.
She makes a delighted humming sound. “Eat breakfast. Make out with you. Shower. Make out some more.”
I dip my fingers beneath her robe, cupping her breasts. Her nipples pebble against my palms, silently begging for attention. I’m only too happy to provide it.
“What about you?” she asks, straight-faced like I’m not teasing her with my thumb.
But I am, and she presses herself into my touch.
“Your schedule sounds perfect.” And very much in line with how I’d like to spend the weekend.
“Doesn’t it?” She grins, her eyes lighting up like a baby who’s just had her first bite of cake
I hate to do anything to dim that sparkle, but I give her the bad news because honesty is the best policy.