“I cannot believe that just happened,” I tried to bury my face against him. “Of all the times for my body to—”
He kissed the top of my head. “We skipped dinner.”
“We were busy.”
“Very busy. The best kind of busy. Worth it busy.”
“Absolutely worth it.” My stomach growled again, louder thistime. “But apparently my body has opinions about priorities.”
He laughed again and rolled away from me.
“Let’s see what El left us.”
“How do you know it was El?”
“Certainly wasn’t fairies,” he chuckled.
I sat up and backed myself against the headboard, pulling the sheet with me and watching him pad naked across the tent to the bar area.
“Champagne,” he called back. “Fancy chocolates. Some kind of cheese and crackers situation. Grapes. And—” He held up a small container. “Is this caviar?”
“Zeus almighty,” I blushed, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp. “That means it was Enzo.”
“Or Dom,” Finn grabbed the champagne bucket and brought it with the food over to the bed. “You want the fancy stuff or should we just eat the cheese?”
“Both. Definitely both. All of it.”
My stomach rumbled in agreement.
He climbed back onto the bed and set our meal between us before popping the champagne cork with skill that made me raise an eyebrow.
“Navy teach you that too? Or your fancy pants degree?”
“Dom taught me that,” he grinned. He poured two glasses and handed me one. “Said every gentleman should know how to open champagne without makin’ a mess.”
“To Dom and his life lessons,” I clinked my glass against his.
“To family that only meddles in the best ways.” He took a sip, made an appreciative sound. “This is really good.”
“Probably cost more than my mortgage.” I tried it. It was crisp and refreshing and almost as amazing as the taste of my boyfriend. “Okay, worth it.”
We sat in bed, wrapped in soft sheets, eating fancy cheese andcrackers and chocolate while drinking expensive champagne.
“Can I just say,” I gestured with a cracker topped with entirely too much brie, “this is not how I pictured tonight ending.”
“No?” He stole a grape from my pile. “What’d you picture?”
“I don’t know. Something more... elegant? Romantic? Not sitting here naked eating cheese like we haven’t seen food in days.”
“This is romantic,” he fed me a piece of chocolate. “We’re together. We’re happy. We’re eating fancy food we didn’t have to pay for. What’s more romantic than that?”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Besides,” he added, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You made that sound earlier. The one when I—”
“Don’t,” I pointed my champagne glass at him, cheeks flaming. “We are not discussing my sex sounds while eating cheese.”
“Why not? I liked them.”
