when she felt the big hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and focused on Clay's face. "What are you doing here? Close your eyes!" she commanded.
"Hell, I have never seen such a sound sleeper," he grumbled, exasperated. "Didn't you hear me? I knocked on the door several times."
"Go away," she said, crossing both arms over her exposed breasts and drawing her knees up to hide her feminine parts from his line of vision.
Clay left and sprawled on the bed in frustration. He had only gone in to check on her because he'd thought something might be wrong. Marisol had been in the bathroom for nearly an hour, and after repeatedly knocking, she hadn't answered.
He tried to block out the vision of her creamy skin and the round, pink-tipped breasts cresting in the water. As he waited for her to emerge from the bathroom, he paced the room, his sex painfully hard with arousal as he imagined her naked body entwined with his.
Moments later, Marisol emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a white hotel robe.
"What's wrong? You look like a wasp stung your tail," he said, thinking she looked sexy in the oversized robe.
"I didn't expect to find you staring at me while I was stark naked in the tub. And don't talk about my tail. Good thing you didn't get a look at that, too," she added with an impish grin.
"I was not staring at you. If you didn't sleep like a dead person, I wouldn't have had to open the door in the first place," he said, defending his honor.
Marisol's eyes twinkled. "You're forgiven."
"I didn't say I was sorry."
"But you should have. I forgive you anyway." She perched beside him on the bed. "Is this for me?" she asked, reaching for a filled champagne flute.
"Yes."
"Thank you for spoiling me rotten with this beautiful room," she said, raising the glass in a toast.
"My pleasure," he said, his voice throaty as he clinked his glass with hers.
Marisol spread a bit of the creamy dulce de leche on a strawberry and popped it in her mouth. "This is sheer heaven. How did you arrange to have my favorite dessert here?"
He shrugged. "It wasn't too hard."
She finished her champagne and refilled their flutes. Lifting hers up high, she said, "Here's to you, Clay Blackthorne. You're more than a bodyguard. You're a treasure."
Clay gazed at her above the rim of the glass as he toasted, "And here's to you, Marisol. You fill every room with sunshine."
Marisol clinked her glass against Clay's and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She closed her eyes and sipped the remaining champagne. Nibbling on a third strawberry, she asked softly, "Did you also arrange for the flowers?"
Clay gave a short laugh. "I guess I overdid the flowers."
"Not at all. They're exquisite. Thank you," she said, sighing happily. She refilled her glass of champagne. "Mmm, this is delicious. I've never felt so pampered."
Clay's hand detained Marisol's before the champagne flute reached her lips. "Better go easy on the champagne."
"Spoilsport," she protested, pushing his hand away. "We can't let this good bubbly go to waste." Marisol fanned herself. "Do you feel warm?"
"No," Clay lied, loosening his shirt around the collar. Truth to tell, he was hot all over just watching Marisol's moist, rosy mouth savor the ripe fruit. "Here, have another strawberry."
"I couldn't." Marisol patted her stomach and continued to sip the champagne. "I've had three already."
Marisol's seductive smile and her tawny skin looked golden against the white robe. Clay's gaze was drawn to her luminous amber eyes and her flushed mouth, devoid of lipstick and softened by champagne. He leaned forward for a taste of sweet strawberries, champagne, and Marisol's plush mouth. Her soft lips parted generously to allow the intimate stroking of his tongue on hers.
He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her up beside him, resting his hand on her bare thigh as his other stroked the velvety nape of her neck. Drawing her soft earlobe into his mouth, he sucked gently, smiling at her sharp intake
"Hell, I have never seen such a sound sleeper," he grumbled, exasperated. "Didn't you hear me? I knocked on the door several times."
"Go away," she said, crossing both arms over her exposed breasts and drawing her knees up to hide her feminine parts from his line of vision.
Clay left and sprawled on the bed in frustration. He had only gone in to check on her because he'd thought something might be wrong. Marisol had been in the bathroom for nearly an hour, and after repeatedly knocking, she hadn't answered.
He tried to block out the vision of her creamy skin and the round, pink-tipped breasts cresting in the water. As he waited for her to emerge from the bathroom, he paced the room, his sex painfully hard with arousal as he imagined her naked body entwined with his.
Moments later, Marisol emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a white hotel robe.
"What's wrong? You look like a wasp stung your tail," he said, thinking she looked sexy in the oversized robe.
"I didn't expect to find you staring at me while I was stark naked in the tub. And don't talk about my tail. Good thing you didn't get a look at that, too," she added with an impish grin.
"I was not staring at you. If you didn't sleep like a dead person, I wouldn't have had to open the door in the first place," he said, defending his honor.
Marisol's eyes twinkled. "You're forgiven."
"I didn't say I was sorry."
"But you should have. I forgive you anyway." She perched beside him on the bed. "Is this for me?" she asked, reaching for a filled champagne flute.
"Yes."
"Thank you for spoiling me rotten with this beautiful room," she said, raising the glass in a toast.
"My pleasure," he said, his voice throaty as he clinked his glass with hers.
Marisol spread a bit of the creamy dulce de leche on a strawberry and popped it in her mouth. "This is sheer heaven. How did you arrange to have my favorite dessert here?"
He shrugged. "It wasn't too hard."
She finished her champagne and refilled their flutes. Lifting hers up high, she said, "Here's to you, Clay Blackthorne. You're more than a bodyguard. You're a treasure."
Clay gazed at her above the rim of the glass as he toasted, "And here's to you, Marisol. You fill every room with sunshine."
Marisol clinked her glass against Clay's and kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She closed her eyes and sipped the remaining champagne. Nibbling on a third strawberry, she asked softly, "Did you also arrange for the flowers?"
Clay gave a short laugh. "I guess I overdid the flowers."
"Not at all. They're exquisite. Thank you," she said, sighing happily. She refilled her glass of champagne. "Mmm, this is delicious. I've never felt so pampered."
Clay's hand detained Marisol's before the champagne flute reached her lips. "Better go easy on the champagne."
"Spoilsport," she protested, pushing his hand away. "We can't let this good bubbly go to waste." Marisol fanned herself. "Do you feel warm?"
"No," Clay lied, loosening his shirt around the collar. Truth to tell, he was hot all over just watching Marisol's moist, rosy mouth savor the ripe fruit. "Here, have another strawberry."
"I couldn't." Marisol patted her stomach and continued to sip the champagne. "I've had three already."
Marisol's seductive smile and her tawny skin looked golden against the white robe. Clay's gaze was drawn to her luminous amber eyes and her flushed mouth, devoid of lipstick and softened by champagne. He leaned forward for a taste of sweet strawberries, champagne, and Marisol's plush mouth. Her soft lips parted generously to allow the intimate stroking of his tongue on hers.
He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her up beside him, resting his hand on her bare thigh as his other stroked the velvety nape of her neck. Drawing her soft earlobe into his mouth, he sucked gently, smiling at her sharp intake
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