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“On your knees.”
“Lick it.”
And when I’d told him not to stop…
“Not a fucking chance, baby.”
Oh God. This was the last thing I needed to be thinking about right now. What I needed was coffee.
Lotsof coffee.
I got out of the shower to get dressed, but a knock at my hotel-room door stopped me. Pulling on the hotel robe, I took a quick peek through the peephole to find an employee with a rolling cart. I hadn’t ordered any room service.
I opened the door and smiled. “Hi. I think you have the wrong room. I didn’t order anything.”
The cart was set beautifully, with white linens, a bouquet of gorgeous hot pink flowers, a covered silver platter, orange juice, newspapers, and what smelled like a pot of delicious coffee. I was tempted to change my tune and bring that sucker inside.
The waiter lifted the padfolio from the table and opened it. “Are you Ms. Sutton?”
“Yes?”
“The order was placed by Mr. Cross in room three fifteen. He gave specific instructions not to deliver it to his room but yours.”
“Oh.” I stepped aside. “Well, then...”
The waiter rolled the cart into my room. I dug out some cash for a tip, but he waved a hand. “It’s already been taken care of.”
“Oh. Okay, thank you.”
This was a really nice hotel, but I still couldn’t get over how gorgeous everything was on the cart. The flowers had to have cost more than the meal. The setup was Instagram worthy.
“Would you like me to make your coffee?” the waiter asked.
“No, I’m good.” I smiled. “I can handle that, even before caffeine.”
He did a little bow. “Very well. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
He was halfway out my door when I stopped him. “Excuse me?”
He turned back. “Yes?”
I motioned to the breakfast cart. “Is this how all room service is delivered? With a big bouquet of flowers and all these newspapers?”
The waiter smiled. “No, ma’am. Just yours.”
My brows dipped down. “Why just mine?”
“The gentleman who placed the order had the concierge get the flowers and papers. He specified pink only.”
I nodded slowly. “Pink only?”
“Hot pink, actually.”
“Really? Do you know when the order was placed?”
The waiter slipped the padfolio from his inside pocket. “Looks like it was placed at six forty-five. Probably took the concierge a while to find a florist open so early.”
