He laughs, and then his eyes grow wide when he realizes I’m not kidding. “I’m going to need you to repeat that for me.”
“I know, it seems totally skeezy, but it’s really not. His fiancée left him at the altar, and he’s really sad right now so...”
“So you just thought you’d tag along on his honeymoon and torment him some more?”
“I’m hardly tormenting him,” I protest but he interrupts.
“Trust me, if he’s seen you in that suit, then he’s definitely tormented.”
Now it may be the sun beating down upon us, the three drinks that I’ve had, or the fact that the alcohol barely had time to leave my bloodstream before I began pumping it in again, but that actually makes me a little swoony. I know it’s a line from a married man, but it’s a man, a very handsome man, and it’s been a lifetime since anyone complimented me like this. So this bitch is gonna swoon like a whore in church at the second coming of Christ, and no one can say shit about it.
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Perry,” he says, the barest hint of a smile forming on his lips. He runs his hand along the wet, rigid indents of his abs and my eyes slowly follow the movement. “Well, it’s good to see you, but I should get washed up and ready for dinner.”
And I’m going upstairs to take a really cold shower.“Enjoy,” I tell him.
“Let’s do drinks while we’re here, yes? You’ll bring yourfriendfriend who in no way wants to fuck you.”
I gasp at the abruptness of his words. Don’t get me wrong—I swear like a damn sailor, but it’s so unexpected from Dermot, so base and primal that my head is automatically filled with visions of him shoving me onto my hands and knees in his hotel suite and taking me from behind.Jesus. I squeeze my thighs together to ward away the ache between my legs.
“I’ll let the missus know and she can finally meet the woman who creates such beautiful bouquets for her every week.”
“Sure, sounds great.” I plaster on a fake smile. I can’t think of anything worse than meeting his lovely wife when I’ve just fantasized about her husband coming inside me.Who the hell does that?
With a nod, Dermot leaves and I hold my breath as I watch him go, right up until he disappears into the lobby of our building.
Somewhat guiltily, I cast my gaze up to our balcony. Harley stands there watching me, and though I can’t be one hundred percent sure from this many stories away, he looks pissed. I give him a nervous wave and he turns and stalks back into the room. Okay. Clearly he’s not feeling any better after a shower and a nap. I want to go to him, but I know he needs time so I slide my sunglasses back into place and close my eyes.
When I’ve had entirely too much sun, and the noise from the other vacationers makes me stabby, I gather my things, head to the bar and grab a couple of takeaway frozen margaritas, and ride the elevators back upstairs. The curtains are drawn, the AC is blasting cool air around the room, and Harley is lying on the bed completely naked.
Holy shit. I can’t see anything other than his firm ass, long, muscled torso, and brown curls that are spread out around him as he lies face-down on the pillow, but it’s enough. He hasn’t even bothered to pull the sheet up, and as I stand there gaping at him, I gulp back half of my margarita in one go.
My gaze slides down his length and back up, and I jump when I realize he’s staring at me. I also lose a little of my frozen margarita. “What are you doing?” he whispers.
“Er ... I ...” I decide words are no longer my friend and I drown out any other pathetic excuse I might have had by swallowing down the rest of my margarita and consuming half of his. I set my empty cup on the counter above the bar fridge and offer him the half-drunk margarita.
“I brought you booze,” I say cheerfully, when I’ve recovered my composure. He sits up in order to take the drink from my hand, and he’s not the only thing sitting up because his cock is awake, hard, and practically waving at me. “Oh.” I shield my eyes. I may or may not have peeked through my splayed fingers though. “You’re um ...” I point towards his groin with the other hand. “You’re ... er ... you’re—”
“Jesus, Rose. It’s okay; you can say I’ve got wood. You should know better than anyone that it doesn’t bite.”
“Why are you naked?”
“I was sleeping. You know I can’t sleep with clothes on.”
“Yes, but I’m here.”
“And you’ve seen it before.” He shrugs. “You two were getting close on the plane a few hours ago—are you really freaking out about my junk now?”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“You sure?” He grins, and I have to fight the urge to throw something at his head. “’Cause it kind of looks like you’re freaking out.”
“I am not freaking out. I see penis all the time.”
“Really?” He stands up, and I find an awful lot of interest in my phone sitting on the counter because I can see in my peripheral that it’s coming closer. “When was the last time you touched one?”
“Not long ago,” I snap. “Would you put some clothes on please?”