She rolled onto her back, insides full of butterflies. It wasn’t bad knowing everything was about to change, just scary. And if Patrick was there to hold her hand and tell her everything was okay, it would be.
“KitKat?”
She turned and ran a hand through his thick gold-brown hair. “I’m here.”
A smile curved his lips. “Cool.”
“Happy birthday,” she said. “You’re twenty-four now. How does it feel?”
His smile got wider. “Pretty great.”
She flushed, still not entirely comfortable with the age she’d just said. Twenty-four. “How’s your comedown?”
“I’m fine. Better than a hangover.”
“True.”
She wiggled into his arms and he wrapped himself around her, pushing a thick thigh between her legs. She recalled the way she’d shamelessly writhed all over him until she came. She’d admired his muscular thighs for so long, but she’d never done anything like that. It reminded her of being a horny teenager, putting a pillow between her legs and riding it to orgasm…
Patrick’s stomach growled like a wolf. “So hungry…”
“Let’s go get breakfast somewhere.”
“No. You stay naked. Room service and more sex.”
“Shouldn’t we keep exploring the city?”
“Fuck the city.”
She rolled her eyes. “I checked the menu and they don’t do pancakes.”
That, if nothing else, persuaded him to let her get dressed and leave the hotel.
They ate side-by-side in a waterfront café, her sipping Vietnamese coffee as Patrick destroyed a big breakfast. The second his knife and fork was down, he gave her a look that belonged in a porno. “Back to the hotel.”
The filthiness of his expression contrasted with the sweet café backdrop and sent a buzz through her. She thought of her kitten attire, tucked away in the side pocket of her suitcase. “Now?”
“Yup.” He reached across, his hand closing lightly on her throat. “I haven’t forgotten how you rubbed yourself off all over my leg last night. I’m gonna put you on my cock and make you do the exact same thing. Grind on me until your cute little pussy can’t hold it in anymore.”
Her brain skipped like a bad record. She pulled his hand away. “Patrick!”
“I know. I’m better than you thought a man could be.”
Sputtering over his arrogance, but unable to deny it, she allowed him to steer her out of the café and down the street. They passed a fancy gift shop and he paused. “Mind if we go in?”
“Sure, you need something?”
“Stuff for my family. Souvenirs. It’s a tradition. Whenever anyone goes anywhere, you get everyone presents.”
Of course. Textbook Normal family, all cute and perfect. For a second she wondered what it would be like to belong to such a family. To be married to Patrick and an official member, rather than a friend—then she pushed the thought aside. It was fun to daydream on holiday, but there was no reason to get delusional. She followed Patrick into the store, checking out the greenstone jewellery as he collected Manuka honey and Wellington-themed tea-towels for his parents and Kiwi bird plushies for his nieces and nephews.
Moving along the shelves, she spotted a beautiful driftwood jewellery box. She and her mum didn’t have a tradition of exchanging travel gifts; that would require going somewhere. But it was gorgeous. Exactly her mum’s style. It also cost ninety dollars. She abandoned it for a four-dollar postcard of the harbour.
Patrick appeared at her elbow. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“What about your mum?”
