Pleasure Unbound

My cell is ringing. I hear the familiar tune, the beats dragging me awake, my hand fumbling over the empty bedside table. I wake more, hanging half off the bed as my fingers trip over carpet until they encounter my purse. I answer it a second short of too late. “Hello?”

“You slut!” The screech of Mitzi’s voice is way too loud, and I pull the phone away from my ear. Blink in the darkness. Try to figure out where I am. One bed, not two. Room twice as big as the one I spent last night in. Movement comes from behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see well over six feet of dark gorgeousness watching me, on his side, the dawn light contrasting with the intense look that he rocks so well. ‘Good morning,’ he mouths, his hand reaching out, wrapping around my waist and pulling me flat on my back. He is on one side, head propped up on one hand, eyes on my face.

“What do you want?” I mumble into the phone.

“I just got back to the room. I know your prude ass can’t be shacking up with that delicious piece of man you left with last night.”

“I can’t talk right now.”

“You know wheels are going up in three hours.”

“Then you should get some more beauty rest.”

A snort. The beginning of some lecture. I hang up the phone, lock it and toss it onto the floor in the direction of my purse, before rolling toward Brett and closing my eyes. I try to memorize the look of him in morning shadows. It’s a good look. Way too good of a look. “I’ve got to go back to my room.”

“No you don’t.” He bends over, pressing a kiss on my collarbone. Pulling at the sheet, he reveals a breast. He exhales, moves his mouth to that spot with soft kisses until I push him off. Cuddle into the crook of his shoulder. Rest my head on him when he lies back against the pillows.

“I have to go back to Georgia.”

“When?” The word vibrates through his chest, and I roll closer into him. Run my hand over his chest.

“One. Which means I need to pack, and shower …”

“… and eat breakfast.”

I look up at him. “Maybe.”

“I’ve been told that I’m excellent at ordering room service.” “I’ve been told that I’m excellent at eating it.”

***

We eat on the bed like kids, cross-legged, cartoons on the TV, trays on the crumpled sheets before us. I lean over, swig a generous swallow of mimosa from the flute and then return it to the bedside table. “So … Mister …” I tilt my head at him. “I don’t know your last name.”

He scowls. Brings a forkful of omelet to his mouth and chews thoroughly before swallowing, the clench of his jaw as he chews drawing my attention to the strong curves of his face, the way dark stubble makes the green of his eyes pop. The gulp of his throat is somehow sexy. “Jacobs.”

“Jacobs. Why the Bahamas, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Isn’t that a question you should have asked me before you …”

I raise my eyebrows as he struggles for words. “Before I what?”

He meets my playful gaze. “Trusted me with your body.”

I shrug. “Jena has your business card. She makes a practice of digging into every aspect of my life. I’m sure she has your blood type and latest draft of your resume by this point. She hasn’t called to warn me of anything, so I think my body is safe in your hands.”

When his eyes darken, they become hunter green. A heart-stopping change. Intensity looks incredible on this man. “I’m here for pleasure. I enjoy the fishing.”

My eyes pick up on his tan, the flex of his forearms as he reaches forward and snags a piece of toast. I suddenly want to see him. On the deck of a boat, wearing only swim trunks. The flex of his muscles as he battles a fish. The break of his smile when he catches a prize. I’ve never seen him during the day. When the sun reflects in those eyes. I look down, scoop up a spoonful of grits, and bring them to my mouth. Chew. Swallow. Look back to find him watching me.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Have you caught anything this trip?”

His mouth twitches. “Been too busy with a certain blonde to get any time in.”

“Ahhh … sure. Blame your bad luck on me.” I shoot him a look that he finds humorous, his mouth splitting into an easy grin.

I am digging out grapes from the fruit bowl when he speaks. “Stay a few more days with me.”