Say You're Mine - Layla Hagen Page 0,72

seemed so tired that I didn’t have it in me to wake you up.”

“You’re in a good mood.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always a ray of sunshine.”

“Yes, but today you’re extra cheerful. Why?”

“I don’t know.” She twirled a strand of wet hair between her fingers, glancing at me playfully. “Might be because I discovered they serve fifteen types of breakfast.”

I cocked a brow, brushing my thumb over her lips. “Liar. I think it’s got to do with those three orgasms you had last night.”

Her grin became even wider as she stretched on the bed, curling her toes.

“You know what? You could be right. Want to test that theory? See if three more make me even happier? I’m going to guess that the answer is yes, but you know me, I’m a scientist. I don’t like educated guesses. I like facts and testing theories.”

I scooted closer to her, resting on one elbow. “Why did I insist you bring clothes here? Worst idea I’ve had.”

She batted her eyelashes, moving her hands from her waist down to her thighs.

“You don’t like it?”

The dress was sleeveless and dipped in a V in the front.

“I do, but I’d prefer a towel or nothing at all.”

“It’s just a dress,” she said seriously. “I’m not even wearing underwear. Thought I’d make things easy for you.”

I brushed my hand on her inner thigh, inching higher.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked.

“I like to double-check things for myself.” I tried to keep my voice serious, but we were both fighting laughter.

“Oh yes, please, be very thorough.”

I kissed her neck, moving my hand until I reached mid-thigh, and—

The doorbell rang.

I groaned, pushing myself up on an elbow. Isabelle pouted, climbing from the bed and smoothing her dress.

She turned to me, pointing a finger. “Stay there. Covers all the way to your chin.”

I cocked a brow. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to see all those sexy muscles.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You can close the door, you know.”

“Oh, I will. But just to be on the safe side.”

With a wink, she walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

I got up and went into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and showering quickly. When I came out, I realized room service still hadn’t left. I dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, then checked my phone. To my surprise, I didn’t have any messages. Sasha and the rest of the team were probably still asleep, but not for long. We still had to confirm the itinerary and schedule for the first concert. I couldn’t believe the tour was starting in three weeks.

Isabelle opened the door to the bedroom. “Breakfast is ready. And so am I.” She shimmied her hips, walking back to the living room.

I caught up with her at the dining table. While she poured coffee into two cups, I buried my face in her hair. She smelled delicious, like honey and flowers.

“You drive me crazy all the time. I don’t know how you do it,” I confessed. “Before meeting you, music was the only thing that completely captivated me.”

She shimmied her ass some more, straight against my cock. I exhaled sharply.

“What are you doing?”

“A happy dance.”

“Against my cock?”

She shrugged. “It’s in my way.”

I tightened my grip on her hips, keeping her in place.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Clarke? You’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

“I know I won’t.”

She dropped her head back on my shoulder, and I caught her smile. “You sure know how to make me feel good about myself.”

Her body went soft, and I took that as a sign that she was done tempting me. I released my hold on her hips. Big mistake. She turned around, putting her arms on my chest—still shimmying against me.

“Isabelle!”

“What? Still continuing that happy dance.”

I gripped her hips again, looking her straight in the eyes. “Let’s have breakfast first. Then I’ll have you.”

She shuddered in my arms but nodded. “I like how you think. We do need energy, after all.”

Laughing, I pulled out a chair for her. She sat down, and I sat next to her.

Isabelle had ordered half the menu, it seemed, but I wasn’t complaining. I was starving.

“My God, the hummus is good,” Isabelle said, munching on her bread.

“Everything’s good. I can’t believe they have pita bread.”

She grinned. “They don’t. I asked them to buy it because you like it so much. I know last night took a toll on you—party-hater and all that—so I wanted to pamper you a bit today.”

That caught me off guard. I couldn’t

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