Habit made him steer for the right-hand stairs, but I tugged him toward the hallway behind the left-side stairs — the one leading to the lower story of the east wing, where I lived.
“Do you need anything from your room?” I asked, praying he would say no.
He shook his head, following me.
“Anything from the kitchen?” I asked as we passed it.
Another shake of the head.
A voice called out, and I winced. Damn.
“Well, hello,” Bene said, stepping out of the kitchen with a bowl in his hands.
“Hello, Bene. All good here?” I asked.
He nodded, tilting the bowl at me. “Madame Picard made crème brûlée. You want some?”
“No, thanks. See you in the morning,” I said, towing Roux on.
“Let me guess,” he teased. “You have your own stash of crème brûlée in your room?”
I laughed. “Something even more tempting.”
“There’s only one thing more tempting than crème brûlée,” Bene observed.
“Don’t encourage him,” Roux muttered, but it was too fun to resist.
“Two things,” I shot back. “Chocolate mousse is one.”
“And sex is the other,” Bene filled in without missing a beat. “But not when it’s with Roux. That ranks down under crème brûlée. Way down with asparagus soufflé.”
Roux shot him the finger.
“You’re speaking from experience?” I challenged.
“Hell no,” Bene said. “But I’m sure asparagus fits. You know, all soft and floppy…”
Roux growled under his breath, while I laughed outright.
“Good night, Bene. Enjoy your crème brûlée.”
He sighed and retreated to the kitchen. “Enjoy your asparagus.”
Oh, I planned to. But the hallway stretched on and on, and my room was all the way at the end.
“What?” I asked in response to Roux’s quiet grumble.
“I’ll show him fucking asparagus…”
I stopped and slid my arms around his neck. “I prefer you showme.”
He grumbled, slowly pinning me against the wall. “You know what I mean.”
I did, and he proceeded to debunk Bene’s theory in record time. Before I knew it, I’d wrapped both legs around his waist and was grinding shamelessly against him.
I opened my mouth for a joke, but Roux smothered my words with a kiss. His arms flexed, easily holding me up, and his tongue stroked over mine.
Tigers did not mess around when it came to sex.
