This lady couldn’t be deterred. “My name is Stephanie. Let me give you my number. You can tell me who you are over drinks.”
The two assholes were so far in my business, I could practically feel them breathing on my neck. I remove Stephanie’s hand away from my arm.
“No need. I can tell you who I am and who I’m not in less than 10 seconds. I am Axel, Heaven’s boyfriend, and I am not a cheater.”
I want to yell, “Thank God” when the doors finally open. “It was nice meeting you Stephanie, enjoy your stay in Hawaii.” I mean it sincerely. I don’t want anyone to have a bad experience on vacation. Spending money to not have fun has to be the worst, right?
The lobby greets me like a familiar tropical hug. Some of Hawaii’s well-known flowers decorate the inside making it a warm and welcoming contrast to the white and gold color scheme. The open glass front of the hotel allows picturesque views of the lush foliage and immaculate landscaping. My feet clank on the white marble laced with gold, while I take in the view like I’m seeing it the first time. The white counters and warm teak wood accent walls make a stunning contrast. The restaurant part of the lobby is mainly glass, yielding breathtaking views of the beach and ocean. I love this hotel.
My favorite part of this particular trip is currently smiling like an adoring fan at the waffle guy as he laces her waffle with butter, fresh cream, and berries. She’s wearing a white knit bikini top, one of those body chains women tend to like, and some itty bitty cut up, blue jean shorts that practically cover nothing. They lace up on the sides allowing me to see the exact cut on the side of her bikini bottoms. I want to devour her.
“What in the hell is she wearing?” I can hear the frown in Dre’s voice. Ashley took it as a dig, but I know he’s irked that she didn’t dress like that when they were an item.
I sidle up behind her and wrap my arms around her very naked little waist. “Ah, baby, you’re killing me with this outfit,” I growl before I nuzzle her neck. She jumps, and I add quickly, “They are right behind us.” In a low whisper.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Thank you.” She accepts her waffle and turns to face me, holding the waffle up for my inspection. “Isn’t it great! Want to share?”
Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and I’m no longer worried this was an I-no-longer-need-your-services kind of meal. I default back to my normal self and do what I would do if she were mine. I lick some of the cream off the waffle with the tip of my tongue.
“Hell yes,” I flirt, licking my lips.
And there it is. The hot look she’s been giving me the last few days. Her eyes zero in on my lips, and the heat that has been radiating between us intensifies. It crackles until we hear an exaggerated, “Oh God” from Dre.
I wink at her and grab a plate. We move down the buffet, grabbing fruit, bacon, and customized omelets.
“Axel?” she says in a sing-song voice as we round the pastries.
“Yes?” I respond, matching her tone.
“Is there any particular reason a stunning Latina keeps eyeballing me like I stole her favorite toy?”
Ashley’s smug laugh pissed me off. I decide the best way to answer Heaven is to also take a jab at Ashley. “Could it be because she’s one of those selfish women who don’t know how to keep her hands off someone else’s man?”
I hear a humph and smile to myself. Jab landed.
“Meaning?” she probes, totally unaware of what’s going on around her.
“She tried to pick me up on the elevator.” I use the most uninterested voice possible. “She used the whole, ‘wow you’re so tall and handsome you must be a professional athlete, model, or actor’ spiel, rubbed my bicep and everything…”
Heaven turns on me suddenly, her fork pointing toward my chest. “Rubbed your bicep, you say?”
There are more laughs from the eavesdroppers.
“Yes,” I answer, slowly, unsure where this was going.
She leaned in with narrowed eyes. “But did she touch your hair?”
“No.” I laugh.
Heaven smiles and heads toward the juice. “Good, because touching your hair would totally be crossing the line.” She selects grapefruit juice. “So, what did you tell her?”
I think grapefruit juice was created to be an instrument of torture. I scrunch my face at her selection and chose the old trusty orange juice.
“I told her I am your boyfriend, and I’m not a cheater.”
“I’m guessing she needed to see this mystery girlfriend of yours.”
“Possibly.”
