“Yes,” I moan, my body tightening in ecstasy. “Yes.”
“Come for me, baby,” he growls. “Let it go.”
My climax bursts out of me like an explosion of pleasure and relief. I scream his name, my hands gripping the sheets like my life depends on it. He keeps thrusting through it all, his movements getting harder and faster even as my body pulses around him. He grips my thighs and groans, coming so hard I feel his whole body vibrate.
Afterward, he drops my legs and leans over me, his chest heaving.
“God!” he breathes, then pulls out of me and lays back on the bed beside me. “Oh God.”
I turn towards him, unable to hide my satisfied grin.
He gives me a look, one beautiful eyebrow going up. “You should wipe that smile off your face if you have any plans of getting to work today,” he warns. “I could do this all day.”
“Who’s stopping you?” I tease.
He laughs. “You’re insatiable.” Getting up from the bed, he turns towards the bathroom. “I’m going to repair the damage you’ve caused,” he says, gesturing towards his clothes. “And I think I’ll definitely need a big breakfast after this.”
I watch him disappear, still smiling. Then I take a moment to luxuriate in the pleasure flowing through me. I can do this, I think happily, getting up to join him in the bathroom. I can live with this.
WHILE I’m in the shower, Landon cleans up and changes into a fresh suit. I hear him leave the bathroom before I finish, and I wrap myself in one of his robes and pad over to the dressing room to find the clothes Laurie sent for me. The ivory sheath dress, one of my favorites, is hanging from the rack. My shoes are on the floor beneath it, and my change of underwear is inside a small shopping bag, placed on one of the shelves beside my handbag.
I dress up quickly and run Landon’s comb through my hair before securing it in a quick braid. In the bedroom, I toss my phone and the purse from last night into my bag, then make my way downstairs.
Landon is in the kitchen, seated at the island. There’s a pot of coffee, with eggs benedict and light fluffy pancakes. The delicious smell reminds me that I haven’t eaten since early last night. Landon’s eyes flick over me when I join him, showing the quick flare of desire that always does things to my insides.
“You didn’t snap your fingers and conjure breakfast out of thin air,” I remark playfully. “Even you don’t have those powers.”
“I don’t, but I have a dedicated chef in the hotel kitchen.” He pulls out a seat. “Eat. You’re almost late.”
“I know.” I take the proffered seat and pour myself some coffee, adding a generous serving of cream and sugar. The pancakes are delicious, and the eggs benedict are heavenly enough to make me sad when my plate is finally empty.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Landon asks.
I give him a naughty smile. “You. If I’m lucky.”
“If I’m lucky,” he corrects, chuckling. “I have to work this weekend,” he tells me. “I’m going to Newport to look at a property.”
Disappointment floods through me. “So you’ll be gone the entire weekend?”
He nods.
I frown, realizing that I’d been looking forward to spending the weekend with him. I hadn’t considered what a busy man he was. That’s something else I have to keep in mind, I tell myself. Now that we were officially in a relationship. I had to make sure I didn’t become that girl, waiting for him to have time for me.
“I want you to come with me,” he says.
“Oh.” I’m delighted, but also wary. “But you’ll be working.”
He gives me a meaningful look. “Not all the time.”
I raise my brows. “And when you are, what will I be doing with myself?”
He strokes a finger over the side of my mouth, flicking a spot of sauce from my lips. “You’ll be waiting, naked, in bed.” He sounds like he’s teasing, but he looks serious. I consider the image. It’s tempting for sure, but deep down, I suspect that the surest way to hasten the end of our relationship is to become his idle arm-candy.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“How can I convince you?” he leans back. “Just me and you, alone, on the beach, the sound of the sea, the gorgeous sunsets…”
I shrug casually, as if the image he’s painting isn’t filling me with slack-jawed anticipation. “What’s in it for me?”