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Foster plants a wet kiss on my cheek, smelling of shaving cream and minty toothpaste. “Time to get up.”
“No,” I groan, “Why can’t we stay here another week?”
“Because I have work to do. I promise we’ll do this again.”
“Five more minutes.” I’m not unaware of this being a repeat of how we started our vacation, with me curled in the sheets and Foster prodding me to get up. The bed dips with his weight as he rubs my ass.
“We have to leave in forty-five minutes. Five minutes is all you get.”
“Then go away.”
“Breakfast is here—fresh coffee and those sweet rolls you like.”
“I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep.”
Foster continues to rub my ass, so I shift away from him. “Quit it.”
He chuckles as the mattress gives, and he leaves. “Five minutes, Paige.”
I snuggle into my pillow, but five minutes pass like three seconds when Foster comes back, tugging at the edge of the sheet.
“Up, now, or I pull the covers off you.”
“How the fuck can you be so chipper this morning?” I grumble.
“Because a piece of property is coming my way at a steal.”
I turn over, pushing the sheet off me. “Always thinking of business.”
“Not true. I think about you far more than business. You have my word.”
I am sluggish as I take the top sheet with me, wrapping it around my body. Our usual cart with breakfast is sitting near the dining table, and I help myself to a cup of coffee. The sweet rolls, as promised by Foster, are sitting on a platter, and I pick one up, taking a large bite. My appetite picked up over the week, and I am sure I’ve gained at least five pounds.
“Better get a move on,” Foster remarks as he carries his suitcase into the living area.
“What can I do to convince you to stay?”
He stops to wrap his arms around my waist. “Sweetheart, if I didn’t have so much to get back to in New York, we could stay. I promise to bring you back here.”
“Soon?” I murmur into his chest.
“Very soon. I want to make you happy.”
“I am happy. More than I ever thought possible.”
He moves on, and I take another bite of my sweet roll before I also walk back into the bedroom, my sheet dragging behind me.
“You know how sexy you look in that sheet?” Foster asks rhetorically as he follows behind me.
I look at him over my shoulder. “Sexy enough to convince you to stay?”
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I promise we’ll come back. You have thirty-eight minutes.”
“Bastard.”
“Damn right. Now hurry up before I occupy some of your time,” he threatens heatedly.
“Foster, stop,” I whisper, but not really meaning it. The minute our flight is in the air, leaving the beautiful sunny weather of Turks and Caicos, Foster drags me onto the long, leather couch. He pulls me onto his lap and threads his hands in my hair, pressing his lips to mine. We’ve been making out for the past fifteen minutes.
