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Then she rolled over to look up at him. She took his hand and scooted back on the bed, bringing him with her. “I’m not sure,” she said coyly. “Let’s try it again.”
He laughed and moved between her thighs.
19
Sunlight leaked in through cracks in the curtains when Kira woke the next morning. She turned reflexively to the pillow next to her and saw that Lyon was already gone.
She wasn’t entirely surprised. He had a meeting with Damian Cavallo today, the main reason for their trip to New York. She would have loved a lazy morning together, but this wasn’t a vacation.
Besides, Lyon had more than made up for the rushed trip last night, and she had the soreness to prove it. She stretched and smiled as she remembered the way he’d taken possession of her body again and again, exploring every inch of her with his hands and mouth as if she were uncharted territory, marveling at her larger breasts and the smooth orb of her stomach, pausing to feel their baby move inside her.
He’d made her come with his mouth, had fucked her until she was sure she couldn’t come again, then proved her wrong by stroking her clit while he pushed carefully inside her ass.
Her cheeks flamed at the memory, but her body burned for more.
She sighed and sat up, then opened the curtains and used the bathroom.
She wrapped herself in one of the thick hotel robes and padded barefoot into the living room. She was planning to order coffee when a knock sounded at the door.
She looked through the peephole and found Rurik standing on the other side of the door.
She opened the door and he moved aside to make space for a room service waiter, standing by with a large wheeled table.
“Lyon wanted you to have breakfast,” Rurik said. He handed her an envelope. “And he wanted me to give you this.”
“Thank you.” She moved aside to make room for the waiter to bring in the table. “Have you eaten?” she asked Rurik. You’re welcome to join me. If I know Lyon, there’s enough food here for six men.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d treated her to a room service breakfast, and while she’d worked up quite an appetite the night before, she was still only one woman, albeit a very pregnant one.
“I’m fine,” Rurik said.
She should have known. Rurik would never leave his post to indulge in a meal, even if that meal was taken with her.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” she said.
She signed the room service slip, added a hefty tip, then lifted silver domes on strawberries and whipped cream, golden French toast, a bowl of fruit, and a basket of pastries. There was even an omelette, and she heard Lyon’s voice in her ear saying she and the baby needed protein.
She poured herself a cup of coffee — decaf, she noted, marveling at her husband’s attention to her needs even in the face of the threats against him and all he’d been through — then opened the envelope Rurik had handed her.
She smiled at the sight of her husband’s handwriting.
My darling,
Enjoy your breakfast and get ready for company.
I can’t wait to see your face again. I can’t wait to be inside you again.
L
Her cheeks heated again, desire flooding her body. The exquisite soreness between her legs didn’t keep her from wanting him over and over.
Company? What kind of company could possibly join her in New York?
She sighed, wondering what he had up his sleeve, then dug into the food. She spent the next hour feasting on a little bit of everything, reading the New York Times book review and fashion sections, feeling like a hedonist after more than a month of meetings and strategy sessions trying to arrange for Lyon’s rescue.
By eleven a.m., she was dressed in a velour track suit, hoping her company didn’t expect something fancier from her. All of her trousers were too tight, and her skirts felt too fancy for staying in the hotel, although before her pregnancy she wouldn’t have thought so.
A knock sounded from the door at precisely eleven, and she looked through the peephole to find Rurik staring back at her once again.
