I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.
CHAPTER 9
TAYLOR
Hot water ranover Sebastian’s shoulders and chest, down his abs, and then lower. He tipped his head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair, eucalyptus-scented steam filling the narrow stall and fogging up the glass enclosure. When he lowered his head, droplets clung to his dark lashes.
“We should probably get dressed,” he said with a soft smile, his hands curving around my waist to pull me closer until I had no choice but to lean into him, his thumbs tracing over the dimples in my lower back.
My cock swelled, lust pooling low in my belly. “Yeah, probably,” I agreed, my own thumb drawing lazy circles over his hip bone. I shifted forward, closing what little distance remained between us until our dicks pressed together. “But I have a better idea …”
Sebastian lifted his eyebrow and opened his mouth to reply, but my stomach chose that moment to let out a loud, embarrassing growl.
Warm laughter filled the room, the sound achingly familiar. I’d missed that laugh, maybe more than anything else about him.
“Jesus, Taylor. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday afternoon, maybe?” I slid my hands from his body and scratched at the stubble on my jaw. Between last night’s event and then running into Sebastian, eating had been the last thing on my mind. “I remember a bowl of olives appearing at some point.”
Sebastian shook his head, reaching back to turn off the water. “That’s it then. No more orgasms until you’ve had a proper meal.”
He slid the door open, and we parted just long enough to towel off, trading sidelong glances as we donned matching white robes bearing the hotel’s logo on the chest.
Sebastian brushed past me, but not before dropping a quick kiss on my lips on his way to the phone where he ordered what sounded like more than half the room service menu.
“Pancakes, scrambled eggs, a plate of fresh fruit—no strawberries, please—and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Whole milk, no half and half.” He glanced back at me over his shoulder with raised brows. “Bacon too?” he mouthed.
I nodded, unable to find my voice. How had he remembered my strawberry allergy? I wouldn’t die from eating them, but the roof of my mouth would blister, and I’d be uncomfortable for days.
I drew in a shaky breath. “Um, yeah. Definitely bacon. And orange juice.”
He repeated my requests before hanging up and dropping onto the bed, his arms folded behind his head, his robe pulling apart to reveal his chest.
“You remembered.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat as I sat on the opposite side of the bed, the mattress sinking with my weight.
One of his eyebrows ticked up. “Remembered what?”
“Me and strawberries.”
His eyes softened. “Of course, I remembered.”
He rolled to face me, propping his head on his hand. “I remember a lot of things about you, Tay.”
I rolled onto my side, mirroring him. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
His lips curled into a sly smirk. “Like how even though you claimed our couch was too small, you still ended up pressed against me on it every time you wanted to watch a movie.”
“It was winter in New England. You were a good source of heat.”
“Says the human furnace.” His smirk softened into something softer, more genuine. “And you used to make me coffee before you left for practice. Always with too much sugar.”
“It was the perfect amount of sugar,” I defended myself.
“Maybe for you. But I drank it anyway.”
“And you made sure I ate well on game days. Always had my favorite turkey and bacon sandwich waiting.”
“You never ate enough before games.” His voice went quiet. “Someone had to look out for you.”
