Page 65 of LA King

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure I can keep myself occupied.”

“Roll those eyes at me again, princesa, and you’ll feel my belt on your ass.”

“Ooh, kinky.” Giggling, she jumps out of bed and blows me a kiss on the way to the bathroom. I slap her ass as she passes.

Once inside, she pops her head back out again. “Oh my god! This bathtub is huge!”

“Why don’t you run yourself a bath and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done?”

“Sounds like a plan.” She disappears from view again but keeps talking to me. “This bathroom is bigger than my whole apartment back in New York. Oh my god, you have one of those showers that does the thunderstorm thing.”

I can’t help but smile to myself. Far from being a spoiled Manhattan princess, my wife is easily pleased by some of the simplest pleasures.

Twenty minutes later, I walk into the bathroom to see Alana lying back in the huge Jacuzzi tub with her eyes closed and a glass of champagne in hand.

She looks so peaceful and content that I almost feel guilty disturbing her. “Is there any of that champagne left for me?”

She opens her eyes and smiles. “Of course. I saved you a little.” She indicates the ice bucket on the side of the tub and the flute beside it.

I unzip my pants. “Can you pour while I undress?”

She does just that, and I take the glass from her and let out a contented sigh when I slide into the hot, bubbling water. I don’t use this thing nearly enough.

“This is some bathroom you have here,” she says with a smirk. “Now I get why you used to stay here so much.”

“Actually, I’ve hardly used this bath. The shower is fucking epic though.”

“You should get one for the house too.”

“The tub or the shower?”

“Both,” she offers.

“You don’t like the bathrooms at the house?” They are traditional and understated, I suppose. Giant roll-top baths and huge walk-in showers, but with none of the high-tech additions the hotel has.

“Actually, I love the bathrooms in the house. They’re beautiful and relaxing.”

“Well, now you can have the best of both worlds. We can stay here at the hotel any time you like.”

She squeaks, full of happiness and a world away from the sad, broken woman I found in my suite a few hours ago. “You mean, like I could just show up here one day while you’re working and decide we’re sleeping over?”

I imagine her knocking on my office door while I‘m dealing with one of the many problems that cross my desk on a daily basis. Her smile alone would make my fucking day. She could hang out in my suite, preferably naked, and wait for me to finish work. “Whenever you want, princesa.”

She downs the last of her champagne and places her glass to the side. Then she chews on her lower lip as she stares at me. “How many women have you had sex with in this bathtub?” she asks, a wicked grin on her face that I suspect is only partly due to the champagne.

I finish my own drink and place my empty glass next to hers. “None.”

“None? Really?”

“Zero.”

“But what’s the point of a huge bath like this if you don’t enjoy it?”

“I think you’re misunderstanding the nature of my previous relationships. They weren’t about Jacuzzi baths and champagne.”

Her eyes sparkle. Yes, a world away from the woman she was a few hours ago, and I couldn’t be happier about that. “What were they about then?”

I arch an eyebrow. “You really need to ask?”