“I need to call Dad.” She dropped her head back onto the pillow, eyes fluttering shut again while her brow flexed. “I texted when we landed in Berlin and told him I’d call once he was up. He must be worried.”
“Do you want me to find your phone?”
“No. I’ll, um—” She sat up, pulling the sheet up under her arms as she did. “Is there a robe in the closet?”
“Really? I’ve seen everything you have under there.” And had run his hands or lips over every square centimeter, in case she’d forgotten.
“Idecide how much skin I reveal and to whom,” she said with a clash of her gaze into his.
She was putting her own defenses into place.
His logical, civilized brain said,Fair, but the possessive animal in him bristled and said,Actually, that’s mine. No one else will ever see that much of you again.
What a hypocritical reaction.
Dismayed with himself, he moved to the closet, then held plush robe ready for her, rolling his eyes to the ceiling with great sarcasm. “Should I order room service? Or would you rather go out?”
Shetskedat the way he held the robe and stood to shrug into it, yanking it from his grip as she closed it across her front and tied the belt. “Whatever you prefer.”
“What I prefer…” He caught his fingers under the cinch of her belt. “Is to eat in, drink wine in the tub, then climb back into that bed for another round or three. Lights off, if you prefer not to show me what you have.”
“I’m allowed to have boundaries.” Her chin came up in shaky dignity. “Don’t make fun of me for it.”
“I wasn’t joking about any of that.”
She sniffed, but some of her tension dissipated when she said, “Fine.” Her brows gave a haughty little jump. “To all of it. But the lights can stay on. Wear a blindfold.” She started to brush past him.
He snagged his arm around her waist, amused and, yes, titillated. “Really?”
“I don’t know!” she said with exasperation. “Maybe it will give me the upper hand for once.”
As if she needed it.
Tightening his arm, he brought her hip into the twitching flesh at his groin and clasped a fistful of her hair with his other hand, slowly dragging her head back so her hands clutched at his arm and her lips parted on a startled inhale.
He kissed those soft lips, taking his time with it, savoring the way she softened and leaned into him.
When she danced the tip of her tongue against his, when she was breathless and her lashes seemed too heavy for her eyelids to lift and her lowered gaze was hazy with desire, he drew back and released her.
“Say hello to your dad for me.” Before outrage could take hold in her eyes, he added, “I need to order dinner. And a scarf.”
* * *
“Springtime in Paris!” her sister-in-law had exclaimed, very taken with their honeymoon location.
Joy promised to send photos but suspected the city was overhyped. That is, until she and Axel were actually walking through the streets where trees and flowers were coming into bloom.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” she said, stopping on one of the pedestrian bridges over the Seine to snap photos of the river, swollen and glugging slowly beneath them. It was flanked by buildings freshly washed by last night’s rain. Everything smelled fresh and gleamed in the morning sun, inciting a sense of possibility in her while breaking her eyes at how pretty it all was.
“Including the Hollywood makeover,” she added when she turned the camera for a selfie and was freshly startled by her polished appearance.
Axel had booked her into the hotel salon first thing, then bought her a new outfit from its posh boutique before they left. She wore a pair of wide-legged designer jeans with a snug crop top and a black satin jacket.
“Do you want a trophy wife or something?” she asked him now.
“I have one,” he said laconically as he leaned his forearms on the rail.
She captured his possessive look in the frame as she clicked.
