It’s a great-looking ass, but the last thing his ego needs is for someone to tell him.
“Whatever. How’d you get to my door, though? They’re not supposed to let just anyone wander the halls.”
He stretches both arms across the top of the sofa, displaying himself. “I’mnot‘just anyone.’ Also”—he tips a sideways nod at the foyer—“my room’s at the other end of the hall. The magazine had a reservation for Natalia months ago, before her maternity leave.” He points at my foot. “Shall I get that ice? You’re quite tetchy. This isn’t the reception for which I’d hoped, especially considering what greeted me at your door.”
Behind me, I hear Ruby chuckle as she walks to the sofa and leans over the back to plant a kiss on my cheek. She’s gotten dressed, even wearing the cute hat I commented on when we met—a yellow pencil-brim ranger. “I’m heading out, Francesca,” she tells me. “Had a blast.”
“No breakfast?” Catching her dimpled chin between my thumb and forefinger, I turn her for a lingering kiss on the mouth.
She half straightens, smiling, then closes in for another. “No thanks, darl. But hit me up next time you’re around.”
I give one of her braids a friendly tug. “Will do.”
We both know I won’t, but that’s what you say, isn’t it?
As always, when I hear the door shut, I’m flooded with a sense of relief that she’s gone. It’s not that I don’t like people, and I’m certainly not ashamed of one-night stands. But knowing no more will be asked of me, beyond what I already gave, is always comforting.
Alexander sighs with the indulgent tone you’d use on a misbehaving child. “Francesca?”
“Like you’ve never given a fake name to a hookup.”
“Believe it or not, I haven’t—I’m far too vain. I want full credit for my performance.”
I can’t help laughing. Tucking my legs under the robe, I twist to face him. “That tracks.”
He gets up and saunters to the bar, opening the mini-fridge’s freezer. “Now, about that ice. I’ll need a flannel from the en suite to wrap it…” He points at the bedroom.
“Ha! Nice try. You just wanna see the bed I wrecked with Ruby.”
“Clever girl. Guilty as charged.”
“I don’t need ice anyway. It’s fine.”
He returns to the sofa, sitting beside me and gesturing for me to put my foot on his lap. “Allow me to inspect.”
After a few seconds’ hesitation, I comply. He scrutinizes the toe, gingerly bending it, then squeezing and giving it a little twist.
“Pain?” he asks.
“Yeah, duh.” The way one of his hands is cupping my heelmakes me think of how someone cradles the back of your head before closing in for a kiss. He’s surprisingly gentle. “Your hands are warmer than I expected.”
He looks up from my foot with a sly smile. “I don’t require batteries, love. I am, believe it or not, human.”
I know he’s calling back to our conversation in the lounge in Sakhir, when he referenced sex toys versus human partners. A blush flares at the memory, and I hope it’s not visible.
Okay, calm the fuck down. Stop picturing yourself planting a stiletto-heeled foot against Alexander’s bare chest, giving him a shove, ordering him to undo the buckle on the ankle strap with those white teeth of his…
Oh my God, I haven’t showered yet—do I smell like sex?
On the pretense of locating a strand of hair clinging to my face, I touch my nose and check out my theory.
Uh, yeah. My hands smell like a mermaid petting zoo.
He presses his fist into the arch of my foot and massages, and an involuntary groan escapes me. I burrow deeper into the cushions and close my eyes. I know I should pull away, but my feet are really sensitive and I decide to let myself enjoy it for a minute.
“Pleasant?” he asks.
I shrug, eyes still closed. “Sure, I guess.”
