Also, ridiculously languid as I lounged in the opulent bathroom’s claw-foot tub, propped up against Mick’s chest.
Yes, I, Kayla “so, so boring” Edwards, was enjoying the prettiest-smelling bath I’d ever taken while being hand-fed strawberries by the most engaging man I’d ever met.
I was pretty sure I wasn't dreaming. I'd already pinched myself a few times this morning—so had Mick!
But still...
“I’m going to have to try super-hard not to get used to this,” I reminded myself out loud as I reached toward the room service tray that Mick had set up on a stool beside the tub.
I tried to grab a square of chocolate wrapped in shiny gold foil.
Only to have Mick slap it out of my hand and demand, “What you gettin’ up to, then?”
“I was just going to unwrap one of these chocolates,” I answered defensively. “You know, because I’m totally capable of feeding myself?”
“See, that’s why you’d be better off lettin’ me do the heavy liftin’ when it comes to this breakfast business.”
He nudged me forward and sat up fully in the tub behind me. “Here’s how you do up chocolate real proper-like in a continental breakfast….”
His voice took on the tone of a schoolteacher as he tore off a third of one of the croissants and buttered it. Then he deftly unwrapped the piece of chocolate I’d tried to pick up a few moments ago.
“First, you take your buttered bread, open it up, pop this bit of chocolate in between, like so, and voilà, mate, ya got the finest breakfast this side of the Atlantic!”
I bit into the piece of croissant he put up to my lips, and my taste buds reeled. “Oh, my freaking gosh! The butter and chocolate melting together in my mouth tastes so good. I can’t believe we don’t eat them this way in America.”
“Lots of things hard to believe ’bout the States.” Mick turned to butter and added another square of chocolate to the rest of the croissant. “You don’t like our kind of football over there, either. How’s that?”
“Well, let’s see....” I pretended to give his question serious consideration. “American football is interesting and exciting, with really funny commercials in between. While your kind of football is… How can I put this nicely? Like,really freakingboring. Even the cute guys running around in short shorts aren't enough to make up for the lack of action in the game. I mean, there's barely any scoring!”
I felt him go still behind me. “Have you never heard the termfootball is life, then?”
“Life, like one of thoselife sentences?” I asked innocently. “The ones where your captor tortures you with boredom until you lose all will to live?”
“Take that back!”
“Where is the lie?” I demanded, standing my ground like a hot-take American Revolutionary.
Mick growled. “Take it back, Kayla, or you’re gonna get it.”
“Oh, my God.” I made my voice breathless with fear. “Are you going to make me watch soccer? Please don’t do that, Mick! It would be too cruel! The extreme punishment does not fit the crime!”
“Okay, that’s it.”
Mick reached out and grabbed me.
And no, he didn’t make me watch a boring game of soccer. But he did tickle me mercilessly until I screamed, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Okay, okay, I take it all back!”
However, by the time I gave in, something else had joined us in the tub.
“Surrender’s no longer enough,” Mick murmured into my ear above his resurrected Eiffel Tower.
He reached for what turned out to be an auspiciously placed condom and informed me, “You did the crime! Now you'll have to serve the time!”
Okay, did I say we had two rounds of morning sex? Make that three.
Mick took me from behind, sloshing water over the sides of the tub with the force of his punishing strokes.
“Now it's my turn to apologize.” He settled me back onto his chest with a tired laugh after we’d both come a third time. “Can’t seem to keep my hands off you, can I? Jesus Christ, look at the mess we made.”
