him of being cheesy, he adds, “I figured you’d be hungry after the paltry amount of food they offered us tonight.”
“Do you mean literal dessert or…me for dessert?”
He winks. “I mean both.”
My virginity went from something I didn’t often think about to an albatross tied around my neck. I’m at once looking forward to ridding myself of it and anxious about letting it go. I shiver as his fingers trail up my bare arm. I know he’ll be gentle, incredible, wonderful. In short, he’ll be Benji.
For whatever reason my mind returns to Marla. Maybe because he had sex with her. I have felt the sting of jealousy at seeing him with another woman but never before has it felt this sharp.
He must catch me scanning the room. His warm breath coasts over my ear, his deep voice zapping my every nerve ending. “You have to know she isn’t half as beautiful as you are.”
“I have eyeballs,” I tell him. “She’s not exactly Billy Goat Gruff.”
He doesn’t laugh, which is perplexing. That was a good one.
“I’m sorry she treated you the way she did. It was rude. It was indicative of the kind of person she is and didn’t have anything to do with you. The jealous glances she keeps darting your way, though, those are deserved.”
“You think she’s jealous of me?” A doubtful smile curves my lips.
“Of course,” he says so sincerely I have no choice but believe him. “She can’t touch you. You’re poised and honest. Damn distracting in red.” He nips my earlobe, and a jolt of awareness shocks my limbs. “Incredibly distracting. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
He takes my hand and tenderly weaves his fingers between mine. And just like that we’re on our way. Marla is forgotten. Archer and Talia, if they’re still here, off my mind. There is only Benji’s hand warming mine as we cross the street to the Crane Hotel, walk through the lobby, and slip into an elevator. He presses a button.
Once the doors close, he leans down and places a kiss on my collarbone. He then drags his lips across my exposed neck. “Cris.”
I can’t breathe, let alone speak. I tip my head. He kisses my throat before licking a trail to my earlobe, suckling, and then taking my mouth. The kiss is deep and hard. I swear there are sparks behind my eyelids.
The elevator dings and the doors slide aside.
We’re here.
On the top floor.
At our suite.
He opens the door for me and I walk into a fantasy.
Benji
“Is this the same room?”
She’s impressed. I can hear the awe in her voice.
“Benji.” My name is a faint whisper. The look on her face is at the top of the list of things to remember about tonight. I take a mental photograph. Click.
She glides through the suite, taking her time to admire the many, many changes since she left. Starting with the vases of roses—red, because my goal is over-the-top romance. I tipped the concierge generously, and he didn’t disappoint. Crystal vases, with two dozen fragrant buds in each, are stationed in various parts of the room. Ten in all, one for every year I’ve known her. A bath is drawn in the large freestanding tub next to the window, rose petals and flickering candles floating on the water’s surface.
Cris walks to the bathtub, gazes out the window at the dark ocean, and then turns to me, a curious smile on her face. From there she checks out the sofa and a low coffee table where there is another vase and the dessert I promised.
“Donuts?”
“Chocolate-covered strawberries are cliché. Plus”—I join her—“these are not merely donuts. These are brioche donuts filled with vanilla crème.”
“They sound amazing. And unhealthy.” She bites her lip.
“You’re off the clock, coach.” I thumb her lip from her teeth. “Tonight you are my Firecracker.”
I take her hand and we sit on the sofa. I lift one of the donuts, crème filling dolloped on one end, to her mouth. Powdered sugar dusts my suit pants as I instruct, “Lick.”
She doesn’t hesitate, her eyes on mine when she sneaks out her pink tongue for a taste. My pants grow tight when she closes her eyes and lets out a low “Mm” sound.
“I hope to hear more of that tonight,” I tell her before taking a bite of the dessert I special-ordered for the evening. More powdered sugar falls on my pants. She tips her head back, spreads those lush lips, and laughs softly.
I take another mental photo. Click.
She swipes her