“I considered it.”
“But?”
I grin at her. “There was a naked woman in my bed. The cost-benefit analysis was short.”
She smiles. “Cost-benefit analysis. That might be the least romantic way anyone has ever told me I’m better than exercise.”
“Last night was a great workout. Earlier this morning, too.”
“Good point.”
My cock, which has been running a low-grade campaign for more ever since I woke up with her back pressed against my chest twenty minutes ago, takes this as a sign to remind me it’s still very much in the game. Semi-hard for most of breakfast. Her bare skin six inches away isn’t helping. Neither is the fact that every time she reaches for the fruit, the sheet shifts and I get a view of the soft curve of her breasts that sends a signal straight past my brain and into territory my cardiologist would flag.
“Eat your smoothie bowl,” she tells me.
I look at it. “What’s in it?”
“Acai. Blueberries. Chia seeds. The menu said it supports cardiovascular health.” She points her piece of fruit at me. “You’re eating it.”
“You ordered me a bowl of purple paste because a resort menu told you it’s heart-healthy?”
“I ordered you a bowl of purple paste because your heart needs the help, and because left to your own devices you’d eat plain grilled chicken until you died of boredom.” She nudges the bowl closer. “Try it.”
I’m skeptical, but I try it. It’s not bad. I take another spoonful before I can stop myself.
“Not bad, right?”
“It’s not great.”
“Oh, really? Then why did your face just do a thing?”
“My face did nothing.”
She eyes me in challenge. “Your face absolutely did a thing. Your eyebrows relaxed and that little crease that lives on your forehead disappeared. That’s your version of a standing ovation.”
She’s been studying my face enough to read me that plainly? I almost smile. “Don’t talk about standing ovations in front of him,” I say, glancing pointedly to the tent my erection is forming under the sheets. “Unless you want to give me ideas.”
My hand finds her bare thigh under the edge of the sheet and I trace a slow line along the inside of her knee. She doesn’t react except to shift a fraction closer.
“What kind of ideas did you have in mind?”
I’m about to show her when her phone chimes on the nightstand next to the bed. She holds up a finger before pivoting to reach for the device. She picks up her phone, glances at the screen, and her expression shifts into something between amusement and alarm. “Oh, God. It’s a text from Lisa. Multiple texts.”
I nod, torn between annoyance at the interruption and glad for the opportunity to ogle Ella’s gorgeous body. The sheets have sagged down around her waist now, leaving her beautiful breasts bobbing with her every movement. “What’s going on with Lisa?”
“She wants a vacation update. She’s been texting every day and I’ve been getting increasingly evasive.” Ella scrolls, wincing. “My last message said ‘resort is beautiful, weather is great, suitemate situation has improved.’ That was two days ago. She has follow-up questions.”
“How many follow-up questions?”
“Um, eleven. And a row of emojis I’m choosing not to decode in front of you.” She angles the screen away from me, which means whatever Lisa said is either obscene or accurate or both. Ella glances up at me. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not going to tell her about... this.”
“What does she know?”
“That you were grumpy on the plane. That I spilled coffee on you.” Ella has the grace to look sheepish. “That you were, quote, ‘ruining my vacation.’”
“You still feel that way?”
She sets the phone face-down on the bed. “I’ve since revised my assessment.”
