“You can’t be sure which side of the door I’ll end up on.”
Her assertion made him smile. How long had it been since he’d chased something besides a deal? Too long, and a primitive part of him appreciated the challenge, even though another equally primitive part would be in a world of hurt if she actually followed through on the threat.
“You’ll stay. Not just because you want this as much as I do”—to underscore the point he dipped his fingers into his rum and Coke once more, and then slid them along the warm flesh of her inner thigh, and lightly over the damp panel of her panties—“but because if you walk out the door tonight, the next time you spread your gorgeous legs for me, I won’t be such a gentleman. We’ll play by my rules.”
Another stroke. A breathless whimper. Her eyelids lowered as she gave herself over to his touch.
“I like to play dirty. I can also be very”—stroke—“very”—stroke—“exacting. I won’t give you any relief until you’re on your knees, begging, ‘Please fuck me, Mr. St. Sebastian.’”
Without another word, he removed his hand. A groan spilled from her lips before she caught the lower one with her teeth. She pinned him with a dark, frustrated look.
He met it with a smile. He had her. They both knew it. “Get the door.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
In answer, he picked up his glass and took a drink.
Her flushed cheeks turned a shade darker, and he knew she was thinking of all the curves and crevices of her body that now tasted like rum and Coke. The blush deepened when he swept his tongue over his lower lip, and he battled an odd, nearly overpowering urge to pull her back down and kiss her—just kiss her. But she turned away, smoothed her dress and headed to the door. All the better. The sooner she answered the door, the sooner he’d be enjoying the rest of his drink.
“Hi, Leo.” She moved aside as a young, uniformed man propped the door open with a small plastic wedge and wheeled the room service cart inside.
“Aloha, Miss Wayne. Would you like me to set this up in the dining area, or on the balcony?”
Chelsea tipped her head toward Rafe. “That’s entirely up to our guest.”
“Whichever you prefer.” They wouldn’t be getting around to dinner for some time, and chances looked good she’d be dining naked, in his bed, but he saw no need to share the details with the room service waiter.
“Oh, no. You have it backward,” Chelsea replied. “We strive to accommodate you. I think you’ll find our commitment to guest service unparalleled.”
“I look forward to experiencing it firsthand, Miss Wayne.”
“We invite you to do so, Mr. St. Sebastian, but I think it bears mentioning that while some things at Tradewinds are part of the service”—her accommodating smile sharpened—“some are not. Aloha, gentlemen.”
Aloha? What the fuck? Before he could utter a word, she walked out the door. Leo looked at the empty air where Chelsea had been, and then at Rafe, and then, because he was a smart kid, he looked down at his shoes and did his best to cover his laugh with a cough. “Um…sir?”
Despite the critical case of blue balls she’d left him with, he couldn’t hold back a laugh. No point denying it, she intrigued him even as she drove him insane. Some warped part of his psyche got a kick out of engaging in a sexual chess game with Chelsea—and losing. This time.
Chapter Ten
Jan. 6
5:13 p.m.
Chelsea,
Mr. Johnson in Room 310 had some kind of reaction to the paraffin in our Island Spice candle. His lady friend dripped the hot wax on his… Well, let’s just say he looks like a warning poster from an STD clinic. Know an allergist who makes house calls?
Thx.
Lynette.
Chelsea yanked her attention away from her email, took her desk phone off speaker, and held the receiver to her ear. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. Did you just say you want me to move into one of Tradewinds’ villas for the next week?”
“Until Rafe’
s visit concludes,” Evelyn confirmed. “He’s arriving Sunday. We booked him into House of Sun as our personal guest, and we reserved House of Water for you. It’s the most logical arrangement. This deal is important to Tradewinds, and we want to do everything we can to ensure success. You need to be accessible, particularly during this next week. John and I can help by providing you with a private, convenient, comfortable place to stay.”
Comfortable? Tradewinds’ two bluff-side villas surpassed comfortable, running more toward decadent. And secluded. Perched just below the resort, only the tops of the surrounding palms could be seen by the other guests. The structures themselves flanked opposite ends of a large infinity pool that appeared to spill directly into the Pacific. Perfect for swimming or sunbathing, and private enough to make tan lines optional. “That’s very generous of you.”