Up in Flames (Rosemary Beach 13)

It was his turn next, and I was looking forward to it. I wanted to touch his body and watch him as he came. The idea was exciting. He was everything a man should be. Strong, fierce, sturdy, and ruggedly handsome. Nothing like the guys I normally dated. I rarely came into contact with men like Gannon. I realized now what I had been missing.

I pulled back the covers and climbed out of bed. My hair was probably a mess, and I wanted to change into something more comfortable, since we were apparently staying in for the evening. Not that I had a problem with that. I liked the idea very much.

I took the brush from my Louis Vuitton toiletry bag, brushed through my hair, and quickly changed into a pair of pale blue pajama shorts that had a flirty ruffle on the hem and a matching camisole. I decided against a bra. The whole ensemble was sexy yet comfortable. I wanted him to get the fact that I wasn’t done just because I’d gotten off.

When my reflection in the mirror was good enough, I headed to the door and slowly pulled it open to peek into the room.

Gannon was lounging on the sofa with his feet propped up on the ottoman and a book in his hands. His eyes immediately swung to me as I stepped into the room as quietly as I could. He either had amazing hearing or great peripheral vision.

“Hey,” I said in greeting, feeling a little shy now that I was barely dressed and he was in his jeans, T-shirt, and boots.

“I ordered pizza. Not sure what kind you liked, so I ordered a few. Waited for you to join me before I dove in.”

He continued to take me in as I walked over to sit on the sofa a few inches away from him. The glint in his eyes said he liked my choice in clothing. I knew I looked good in it. Heck, I knew I looked good naked. I used that as a superpower with men regularly. I found that my looks and my body only drew them in, though. I had nothing deeper to keep them. I was a hot fuck, but the next morning, they were usually done.

The idea that this was all I’d be to Gannon stung some. But I had to get over it. Men didn’t keep me. I was a toy.

“You must not like pizza.” Gannon’s voice broke into my thoughts, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. He had a concerned frown.

“Oh, no, I actually love pizza. The smell lured me from my dreams. I’m just not awake yet, I guess. What kind did you get?”

He closed the book he had been reading and placed it on the armrest of the sofa. I glanced down at it as he stood up and walked over to the dining-room table. A worn copy of As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner. I hadn’t expected something like that, but then, maybe I had. Gannon wasn’t a man of many words, but from the way he spoke and handled things, it was obvious he was intelligent. I looked at him standing where room service had left the pizzas covered with silver-domed lids. He picked up the first lid. “Pepperoni.” Then he lifted the next one. “Greek.” That was my favorite. I loved feta cheese and olives on my pizza. Then he unveiled the last one. “Buffalo chicken.” I had a feeling that one was for him. It was a guy’s type of pizza.

“Greek is my favorite,” I replied.

He reached for one of the plates, put a large slice of the Greek pizza on it, and walked over to me. “Vodka cranberry?” he asked, as I took it from him.

He was waiting on me. No guy had ever done that before. I normally had someone wait on us, or I waited on them.

“Please, thank you.”

He didn’t respond but went to make my drink, exactly the way I liked it, with three ice cubes. He paid attention to details. Again, not something I had experienced before.

Just as I expected, he picked up three slices of the buffalo chicken and put them on a plate before joining me on the sofa. “If you’d like to turn the TV on, we can, but I don’t usually watch TV I prefer conversation or quiet.”

I was good with whatever he wanted. “Conversation is fine,” I replied, and took a bite of my pizza.

We began to eat in silence. I wanted to watch him eat and see if his jaw worked in that sexy way it did when he was angry. But I restrained myself and didn’t stare at him. He was relaxed, and I liked that he felt at ease with me.

When I finished my slice, I really wanted another, but I hated to eat one more piece in front of him. Besides, it would go to my hips. I wasn’t sure I’d get a chance to go to the hotel gym in the morning and work it off.

“You need more?” he asked, setting his plate down and standing up as he reached for mine.

Did this man read minds? “One more slice would be good,” I replied.

He took my plate and walked back to the pizza. He picked up another large slice and brought it back to me. I wanted to admire the way he looked in those jeans, but this was such a friendly and comfortable meal, and I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to be acting like he hadn’t given me two of the best orgasms of my life or what. He was so confusing.

And he was also slightly perfect.

“You keep looking at me like that, and you won’t get to eat that pizza,” Gannon said, with a fierce glance in my direction that made my female parts tingle. I quickly took a bite of my food, and he chuckled before looking back at the book he had put down.

A smile tugged up the corners of my lips as I chewed. It was a happy smile. I didn’t have many of those. That idea made me sad.

Had I ever had a relationship with a guy who actually made me happy? I couldn’t think of one. Even the one I had with Major hurt more than anything else. This was a guy I’d met in Vegas and might never see again. He could be married or engaged. And he was making me happy.

“You’re thinking deep thoughts.” He didn’t miss anything. Not one change in my expression.