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“You made cookies?”
“Why don’t you get that pretty little ass out of bed and come see for yourself?”
Tempting. “What if I hate cookies?”
He rumbles a sexy laugh. “You won’t hate these.” He turns and strides away from me and I push off the bed, following quickly. If for no other reason than the fact that he’s still stark naked and I want to see that glorious body in the light.
Plus, he’s right; I won’t hate his cookies. I can tell by the smell they’ll be life-altering.
A bit like the man who made them, I imagine. Not that I’ll get to experience that for long. After tonight, I’m headed back to the real world and he’s probably headed back to the Big Easy.
Ignoring the strange sense of sadness that thought stirs, I reach the doorway and freeze.
The entire living area of the suite is lined with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the exterior of the resort, and since I can see the glow of lights below, I know we’re high up but not that high up. And definitely not so high up that cruising around naked is an option.
He looks back at me over his shoulder and raises his brows.
“What floor is this?”
Dawson frowns. “Fifth?”
Pursing my lips, I ease toward the windows to peek out.
Dawson approaches me from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist. “No one can see us.”
“Are you sure?” I get deep enough into the living room to see the top of a massive Christmas tree and the dark beach beyond.
“It’s a gorgeous view at night,” he says, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my stomach. His cock rests between us as he walks me forward, and it’s all I can do to focus on what’s in front of me, rather than behind.
It is a gorgeous view, but—
His hands travel up, cupping my breasts and stealing my breath.
There’s no one out there, and if there is, I’m having a hard time giving a shit when his fingers massage my breasts and his heat warms me from all sides. I try to focus on the gorgeous display of Christmas decorations below, but the slightest reflection in the glass catches my eye, and there I am, in all my nakedness, with this man’s strong hands cupping my breasts. The sight of me, of us, makes the massive Christmas display below pale in comparison.
I lift my gaze and meet Dawson’s in the reflection, breathing deeply as his touch becomes firmer, more kneading than teasing, and desire tightens my groin.
I have to stretch my arms to hook them around his neck, but he seems to like the view because he grunts his approval and his cock flexes against my bare behind. I close my eyes as he pulls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, teasing them into stiff peaks.
“Come eat my cookies,” he whispers.
And, I swear on all things holy, Lisa better get the hell out of my head because the response on the end of my tongue is terribly inappropriate for this sensual moment.
“Then I’ll eat yours.”
My eyes fly open and zero in on his reflection as his lips quirk into a grin. Does he know Lisa? He releases my tits and turns away from me.
I spin slowly and watch him stride into the kitchen. “You just said that last bit out loud.”
Dawson chuckles. “I sure did. Meant it too.”
Anticipation sends a shiver through me and, with an excited giggle, I follow him into the kitchen, stopping to lean my hips against the counter and look up at him in awe. Where did he come from? I mean, aside from New Orleans. He must be an angel, or an alien, or something. I’ve heard of unicorns, but—
Dawson turns toward me with a plate of warm, chocolate chip cookies, then sets them beside me and places his hands on my hips. My flesh jumps at the touch and my pussy throbs with need. Something about his hands on my waist is an unexpected aphrodisiac. I look down at the way they wrap around me in wonder as he lifts me up and sets me down on the counter.
I yelp at the cold surface, but he holds up a cookie and I’m distracted from the cold by his dark gaze.
“Open.”
