But I freeze at the sound of a discreet knock on the steam room door.
“Your masseuse is waiting for you,” a voice calls.
CHAPTER 37
BIX
Acouple hours later, Slayer and I pass the pool as we walk back to our suite in our bathrobes, relaxed from our delicious massage.
Though we’re considerably underdressed for the poolside fashion scene, I can’t say I mind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see Valentina catching some sun on a lounge chair. At the yacht party, she seemed too busy socializing to dream of leaving early.
I glance at Slayer, glad that if he did see her, he’s pretending not to notice.
“My masseuse was better than yours,” I tease, glancing at him from beneath my lashes. “You must have heard all my exclamations of pleasure since you were in the next massage bed.”
“Mine was far better. Got all the kinks out of my neck,” he says, wrapping his arm loosely around my shoulder.
As we walk, I breathe in the scent of the oil the therapists used on us—something woodsy, seductive.
When Slayer opens the door upstairs, I can tell housekeeping has been in. Everything’s pristine.
A fresh ice bucket glows on the bar beneath shelves of premium liquor. Five different Champagnes gleam like prizes in a trophy case.
“You said you were a bartender. How about dazzling me with an exotic cocktail?” I ask Slayer. “This ice is too good to waste.”
As I turn to face him, I’m struck anew by how gorgeous he looks—his dark hair still damp, white robe fitted in just the right way.
“Not after that sauna and massage,” he says. “You’re too lightheaded to handle it.”
“Watching out for my safety now, Slayer?”
He shoots me a look. “I’m always watching out for your safety, Bix.” He selects one of the Champagne bottles and rests it on the ice.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say, spotting the white box from the pastry shop. “I circled back to get the goodies I admired in that window. Let’s gorge.”
As I reach into the shopping bag, I feel something plush and warm. Oscar, the turtle. “Hey, you,” I say softly, putting him on the center of the table in lieu of flowers.
I rummage through the service drawer near the bar and find plates and cutlery. Perfect. Then I arrange the luscious desserts and snap a few pictures.
As lovely as the pastries look on my phone, it’s Oscar who takes center stage.
“Well, look who's here," Slayer says, picking up Oscar by his plush shell.
“He saw me at the bakery shop and begged me to take him home.”
"Oscar has a habit of doing that. Likes to snoop on humans in their natural habitat." Slayer gives Oscar a tap on the head as he puts him back on the table.
We settle in to enjoy our dessert. After a few moments, I sense Slayer watching me as I crack the white chocolate shell of my treat with a fork, revealing a luscious white mousse inside.
Oh my God.I dig a little deeper and practically orgasm just looking at the tropical gelée at the center. I bring it to my lips.
Slayer digs into his chocolate dessert.
“How is it?”
He looks down and shrugs. “Good.”
