“Strawberries dipped in chocolate?” he teased.
“The strawberries and champagne sound great. Just add a corned beef sandwich.”
A woman who liked to eat. He could get behind that. His Italian Catholic mother loved to feed people, and he, an accomplished cook himself, had inherited her passion for the art. “I don’t see a corned beef sandwich on the menu.” He continued to glance over the options. “There’s lasagna, though. You like Italian?”
“Love Italian.”
He grinned. “Good girl. Of course, I really should only feed you the lasagna I make myself. I’m sure it’s far superior to whatever slop they make here.”
“This is a five star restaurant in a five star hotel,” Stacy said, throwing a pillow at him.
“Let’s just say I’m picky when it comes to Italian.”
“Okay, no Italian then.”
“I’ll make you lasagna.”
She let out a laugh. “How exactly do you plan to do that? Hijack the kitchen?”
“Well…not tonight, I guess. Sometime soon.”
“Right.” She grabbed the menu from him. “Let me look. I’ll have…the club sandwich. That’ll do fine. What do you want?” She picked up the phone.
“I’ll have the same. But don’t forget the strawberries and champagne. And charge it to room 311.”
“Michael…”
“I said I insist.”
“Okay,” she relented. She ordered the food, replaced the phone on the cradle, and excused herself to go to the bathroom.
Now what? His cock stiffened. He could make love to her again, but they’d no doubt be interrupted by a knock on the door delivering the food.
He sat down in a nearby chair and leafed through a magazine until the whoosh of water met his ears. She was taking a shower? The image of water droplets trickling over that buxom body caused blood to rush to his groin. He imagined her arching her back, raking her fingers through her long wet hair. Massaging shampoo into her scalp and working it through to the ends, soap dropping from her hair onto her plump breasts, down her soft belly, into the curls between her legs…
Could he join her?
Should he?
The knock on the door saved him from the decision. After the waiter left, Michael popped open the champagne. The strawberries were displayed in a silver bowl with a glass of chocolate syrup in the middle. Perfect. He arranged the two club sandwiches on the table and set the strawberries in the middle. He poured two flutes of champagne and waited for Stacy.
When the water stopped running, his heart began to race. Silly, he knew. He’d already had her, but all he could think about was having her again. He wanted to feed her strawberries, draw circles of chocolate around her luscious nipples and lick them. Chocolate, yes…chocolate on those amazing pussy lips of hers…
She came out of the bathroom clad in one of the hotel robes. Her hair was wet and combed back over her forehead, making her facial features prominent. Her big eyes seemed even bigger and browner, her lips fuller, redder, and perfectly sculpted. Her face was a perfect oval, her cheekbones high and chiseled.
Quite a beauty. He wondered briefly what had led to her divorce. What kind of idiot would let a gem like her go?
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Developing feelings for Stacy Summers was not on the agenda. This was business, pure and simple.
“Hey, beautiful, the food’s here.”
“Sorry, I was feeling all sweaty.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
She laughed. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell, cute and infectious. “Not a bad thing, handsome. I just want to be fresh for you.”
“You look amazing.”