A server appears with my food and bourbon. I dart to my chair, eyes wide, tracking the server’s every move as items are placed on the table. Alexander taps away at his keyboard, presumably addressing some auction-finalizing details. After a moment he throws a glance at the food, which I’m staring at but not touching.
“Pre-race carb-loading?” he asks.
“I wish. I’m not actually allowed to have any of this. Have you eaten dinner yet?” I lift the top bun on the slider and pile on a few of the smaller onion rings. “I’m only taking a single bite and sip. Someone should eat the rest.”
“One bite?” A ghost of an impish smile. “I’d not have credited you with that level of discipline, my little hedonist.”
“Do you want my leftovers or not?” I pick up the slider. With the added onion rings, it’s too tall to properly fit it into my mouth, butfuck it, why be dainty?
My eyes never leaving Alexander’s, I indelicately cram the stack between my teeth and sink through layers of seasoned meat, fluffy bread, fried onions, and drippy sauce. Holy fuck, it’s the best thing I’ve tasted since my mom’s cooking when I was visiting home. An involuntary groan escapes me. My eyes close as I chew, setting the slider blindly onto the plate.
I keep them closed, meditating on the flavor and texture of this single precious bite as I work it around in my mouth. Toosoon, it’s over. I swallow, then open my eyes while grabbing my napkin to wipe the grease off my lips.
The look on Alexander’s face says it all.
“I’d buy tickets to see that again,” he murmurs, his tone playfully gritty.
“What a perv.” I shove the plate an inch in his direction. “All yours, honeybee.”
He puts his laptop into the leather satchel, then reaches for a knife and fork. With easy precision, he carves out a bite and pops it into his mouth, and… dammit, I absolutelyamwatching him do it, and he’s enjoying every second of the attention. I snap out of it, plucking up the dessert fork and gathering the cake toward me.
I rotate my plate, inspecting the best bite since I only get one, then stab into the middle, freeing a chunk with a ribbon of gooey-looking ganache down the center. I lift it slowly, again trying to make this a full experience—admiring the look and smell.
Alexander cuts an onion ring in half and forks it up. “This is quite good, and I was hungrier than I thought. Thank you.”
“No prob.” I bring the small, moist wedge of chocolate perfection closer to my face. “Okay, no talking. Don’t distract me—I’m almost there.”
We both realize how it sounds and dissolve into laughter.
“Let no one say I impeded your pleasure, Salvia officinalis,” he quips.
I insert the bite and smush cake against the roof of my mouth with my tongue so the ganache oozes out, then chew, leisurely.
He’s still watching. And part of me is very into it.
“You have gorgeous lips,” Alexander says, reaching across the table to break off a corner of the cake and put it into his mouth. He licks a frosting-smeared fingertip, quick and neat, but still sexy enough that I can’t help staring.
Dammit, I don’t want that to be as hot as it is.
I’m broadcasting signals like a horny SETI cruising for hot space alien action. My tongue darts out to touch a morsel of stray crumb on my upper lip.
Jesus, what am I doing? Flirting with this fuckwit just because he’s pretty and I haven’t gotten laid since January…
I break our blatant eyefuck and lift the tumbler of bourbon. “Well, here’s mud in your eye, Sandy.” I take a generous gulp. “I gotta get some sleep.”
“Bereft at the loss of your company, pet.”
“Oh, quit making fun of me.”
A small frown mars his brow, then evaporates. “I assure you, I’m not.”
Argh, why do I kinda want to keep hanging out with him?
My stomach sinks as I remember Priya’s furtive conversation with my brother. I just know if I go back to the suite now and she’s awake, I’m going to start an argument. I almost laugh as I think of how hilariously appalled she’d be if I went back to Alexander’s room with him. She trusts him even less than I do. (Probably because she’s not swayed by this weird hormonal thing that’s happening to me, but whatever.)
I allow myself another tiny sip of the bourbon, then set it in front of Alexander. “Hey, wanna go to your room and do another video? Like, right now?”
I expect him to leer and say something cheeky, but his expression is… Whatisthat? Gentle and sad and maybe a little hopeful. It passes, and he picks up the glass, tipping back the liquor in one smooth, open-throated shot, then fixing his gaze on mine.
