“Your drink,” the waiter says, reappearing at your side before you can finish your sentence.
“Thank you,” you call after him as he leaves.
“Like I was saying,” Ziros says. “Not our problem.”
You frown into your drink, shaking your head. Now that you’re enjoying Mr. Rich Blondie Vampire’s yacht, it feels rude to not at least appreciate that he’s held up his half of the bargain.
But maybe Ziros is right and the staff here are all aware that they’re not exactly working for a normal human billionaire.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” The waiter asks when he returns for your empty glasses once more. With apointed look at Ziros, he says, “We have all types, if you require blood.”
It’s a good thing you already finished your drink, or you may have spat it out.
Guess that answers that question.
“Thanks,” Ziros says dryly, “But no thanks. I’m good.”
“I see,” the waiter says, casting an appraising look between the two of you. And is it just your imagination, or is he perhaps assuming you’re here specifically to be Ziros’ personal, uh, well,you know. There’s gotta be a polite term for this.
Food supply?
Yikes. It definitely doesn’t sound as hot when you put it that way. Nowhere near as hot as it felt when he bit you.
Meanwhile, Ziros glares after the waiter until he’s disappeared.
Pushing himself up from the glass table where you’d been eating, he says, “I think I’m done.”
For a second there, you almost think he means he wants to go home. But fortunately, he just unzips his borrowed jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair. Then he grabs the hem of his T-shirt and shucks it off over his head.
You stare at his abs. Entranced.
No matter how many times you see him shirtless, you may never get over how fit he is.
His arms are amazing, too.
Everything about him is hot.
Black hair, steel blue eyes. A jawline that could break hearts by itself.
Yeah, this is the good life.
“Well?” He asks with a smirk. Folding his arms across his toned chest. “You gonna join me, or are you just gonna keep checking me out?”
“Join…you?” Your brain seems to have momentarily short-circuited, drunk on alcohol and abs.
You could absolutely just stand there and check him out forever in your blissful, tipsy daze.
“Yeah,” he says over his shoulder as he starts for the hot tub where it waits in all its sparkling glass-framed glory on the private deck in front of your stateroom. “Or don’t tell me you forgot your suit.” He grins, giving you a pointed look up and down. “Not that I’d mind.”
You blush.
Even though you’re tipsy enough not to feel the cold, there’s a strong chill to the air, and a dip in the hot tub would sure feel nice. And if it rains, it’ll only be more magical.
So you get up, hurrying after Ziros as he heads for the private tub outside the stateroom.
33
Sharing a Hot Tub with the Hot Guy
