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She's standing there. The girl from the beach. Wearing that bikini, along with a sheer white shirt that hangs open and extends past her knees. Her pale-red hair had been tied up in a ponytail earlier, but now it drapes over her shoulders, and curling strands of it kiss her cheeks.
Bloody hell, she looks even sexier and more beautiful now than she did on the beach. I want to kiss her again, as badly as I'd wanted it hours ago. The need is even worse now since I know what her lips feel like and taste like. I remember the softness of her skin too, and the way her eyes turn glossy when she's aroused. I want to see that look in her eyes while I'm inside her.
"Hello," she says, smiling nervously. "I'm here."
"Yes, I know." I move aside and gesture for her to walk into the suite. "Come in, please. I'm glad you're here."
She ambles past me but stops a few meters beyond the doorway. While I shut the door, I watch her head swivel left and right, though I can't see her expression since she's facing away from me. I love the view, though. That long shirt is almost translucent, giving me tantalizing glimpses of every curve on her body. Somehow, it's even more enticing to get a peek at those curves instead of touching them, but I want to do that too. Need to do it. Over and over, all night long.
I've lost my mind, and I don't care.
The woman spins around once, her mouth open and her eyes large. Then she halts facing me and spreads her arms. "I've never seen a suite like this in my entire life. It's… heaven."
She's so adorably stunned that I can't help chuckling. "It's a hotel suite, not a celestial paradise."
"Celestial paradise? Not many people talk that way."
"Sorry. I have a habit of using big words." A side effect of my job, but I don't want to talk about work with her.
"Don't apologize for that," she says. "I use lots of words that are way bigger than the ones you just said. Fancy words are so stimulating."
"Are they? Maybe I should pull up a thesaurus on my mobile so I can seduce you with polysyllabic phrases."
"Ooh, that's hot."
I know she's teasing me, but the longer we speak, the more I want to ravish her. A variety of scenarios for doing that play out in my mind, and I can't decide which one to start with.
"Would you like a drink?" I ask. "There's champagne in the refrigerator."
"Can't remember the last time I had champagne. So yeah, let's have a little of that."
I'd ordered the champagne earlier, along with two glasses, because I hoped this woman would knock on my door. I hurry over to the small refrigerator tucked into the corner, retrieve the bottle and two glasses, and return to her. She's moved to the edge of the infinity pool, gazing out into the deepening night. The first stars are visible, and suddenly I feel like I am in heaven, surrounded by glimmering stars and accompanied by an angel in a blue bikini.
As I stop beside her, I find myself appreciating her profile instead of the night sky.
She turns her face toward me and smiles. "Are you going to pop that cork?"
"Yes, of course." I hand her the two glasses, then struggle to do what she said. The bloody cork won't budge, so I give up. "Afraid I can't get the bottle open. We'll have to skip the champagne."
"Don't worry. I know the trick." She shoves the glasses into my hand and plucks the bottle away from me. With one try, she sends the cork flying into the infinity pool, where it lands with a splash and floats on the surface. "There. Mission accomplished."
Maybe I should feel emasculated by the fact she accomplished a task I'd failed at, but all I feel is more turned on than ever before in my life. If I bought this woman dinner at a posh restaurant, I'm sure she wouldn't order salad with no dressing and pick at it like a bird. She would devour a medium-rare steak with gusto.
And watching her do that would make me want to spread her body across a table in the middle of that restaurant and drive into her.
She pours champagne into the two glasses I'm still grasping, then sets the bottle on the floor. Taking one flute, she holds it near mine. "What should we toast to?"
"Pleasure."
Her tongue sneaks out between her lips, gliding back and forth twice while her eyes get that glossy look. "I like that. To pleasure, then."
We clink our glasses and take our sips.
"Mm," she says, "I love the feel of the fizzy stuff in my mouth, and the way it sizzles down my throat."
I empty my glass in one mouthful. And that "fizzy stuff" bubbles down my throat, making me cough.
The angel in a bikini grins. "You're not supposed to gulp it. Haven't you ever had champagne before?"
