Red Lily
Page 44
His shoulders were already shaking as he snorted out a laugh. He hooked an arm firmly around her before she could roll away. “Happy to be . . . at your service.”
She buried her face against his shoulder. “Things just jump out of my mouth sometimes. It’s not like I’m a sex maniac or anything.”
“Well, now you’ve shattered my dreams.”
She cuddled closer, tipped her head up. “It’s nice being here like this. I mean just like this,” she said, and feathered her fingers through his hair. “All soft and warm, snuggled up in bed. I wish we could just stay, and tonight would just go on and on.”
“We can stay, and when tonight stops going on, we can have breakfast right here in bed.”
“That sounds amazing, but you know I can’t. Lily—”
“Is sound asleep in the Portacrib we moved into my mother’s sitting room earlier today.” When her eyes widened, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Mama was practically rubbing her hands together with glee at the prospect of keeping her overnight.
“Your mama . . .” She pushed up on her elbow. “God, did everybody know about this but me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Roz knows we’re . . . that’s just very strange. But I don’t think I should—”
“Mama said to remind you she managed to raise three boys, keep them all alive and out of jail.”
“But . . . I’m a terrible mother. I want to stay.”
“You’re not a terrible mother. You’re an awesome mother.” He sat up as she did, took her shoulders. “You know Lily’s fine, and you know Mama loves having her.”
“I do. I do know that, but . . . what if she wakes up and wants me? Okay,” she said with a sigh when he just lifted his eyebrows. “If she wakes up, Roz’ll handle it. And Lily loves spending time with her, and Mitch. I’m being a cliché.”
“But you’re such a pretty one.”
She looked around the room. Beautiful, sumptuous—absolute freedom. “We can really just stay?”
“I’m hoping you will.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t have any . . . things, you know? Not even a toothbrush. A hairbrush. I don’t have my—”
“David packed you a bag.”
“David . . . well, that’s all right then. He’d know what I’d want.” She felt giddy little bubbles rising up in her throat. “We’re just staying?”
“That’s the plan. If it’s okay with you.”
“If it’s okay with me?” she repeated, and a gleam came into her eyes as she launched herself at him. “Let me show you what I think about that.”
LATER, SHE CAME rushing out of the bathroom. “Harper, did you see these robes? They’re so big and soft.” She stood rubbing a sleeve against her cheek. “There are two of them, one for each of us.”
Lazily, he opened one eye. The woman, he thought, was proving to be insatiable. Praise Jesus. “Nice.”
“Everything in here is wonderful.”
“Romeo and Juliet suite,” he murmured, almost drifting.
“What?”
“The suite. It’s the Romeo and Juliet suite.”
“Really, but that’s . . .” Her brows drew together. “Well, if you think about it, they were a couple of teenage suicides.”
On a laugh, he opened his eyes. “Trust you.”
“I never saw it as being romantic. Tragic is what it was—and plain stupid. Not the play,” she corrected, turning a circle to swirl the robe. “It’s brilliant, but those two? Oops, she’s dead, I’ll drink this poison. Oops, he’s dead, I’ll stab myself in the heart. I mean, Jesus, and I’m babbling.”
“What you are,” he said, staring at her, “is fascinating.”
“I get pretty opinionated about books. But whoever it’s named for, the suite’s downright awesome. It just makes me want to dance all around it, buck-ass naked.”
“I knew I should’ve brought a camera.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Holding the robe up like a cape, she swirled once more. “I think it’d be sexy if we took naked pictures of each other. Then when I’m old, and all brittle and wrinkled up, I’d look at myself and remember being young.”
She bounced onto the bed. “You got any naked pictures of yourself?”
“Not so far.”
“Look at you.” She tickled his knee. “You’re embarrassed.”
“Not entirely.” Oh yeah, he thought, she was fascinating. “You got any?”
“Never trusted anybody enough before. And I’ve got this bony build. But you didn’t seem to mind it.”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
He meant it, and wasn’t that a miracle? She could see it in his eyes. She’d felt it in his touch. “I feel beautiful tonight.” She rose, wrapping the white robe around her. “All plush and lush and decadent.”
“Let’s order dessert.”
She stopped twirling. “Dessert? But it’s almost two in the morning.”
“They have this amazing invention called twenty-four-hour room service.”
“All night? I’m such a rube. But I don’t care.” She plopped back down on the bed. “Can we eat it up here? In bed?”
“The rules attached to twenty-four-hour room service are if you order after midnight, you’re required to eat in bed. Naked.”
She grinned wickedly. “Rules are rules.”
They lay belly-down, facing each other, with a plate of chocolate-soaked cake between them.
“Probably going to be sick,” she said as she ate another mouthful. “But it’s so good.”
“Here.” He stretched out an arm, managed to grab one of the glasses on the floor. “Wash it down.”
“I can’t believe you ordered another bottle of champagne.”
“You can’t do naked chocolate cake without champagne. It’s declassé.”
“If you say so.” She drank, then forked up more cake and held it out for him. “You know . . .” She wagged the fork at him. “On the date-o-meter you’re going to have to go a ways to top this one. I don’t think I can settle for anything less than, oh, a wild weekend in Paris or maybe a quick jet to Tuscany to make love in a vineyard.”
She buried her face against his shoulder. “Things just jump out of my mouth sometimes. It’s not like I’m a sex maniac or anything.”
“Well, now you’ve shattered my dreams.”
She cuddled closer, tipped her head up. “It’s nice being here like this. I mean just like this,” she said, and feathered her fingers through his hair. “All soft and warm, snuggled up in bed. I wish we could just stay, and tonight would just go on and on.”
“We can stay, and when tonight stops going on, we can have breakfast right here in bed.”
“That sounds amazing, but you know I can’t. Lily—”
“Is sound asleep in the Portacrib we moved into my mother’s sitting room earlier today.” When her eyes widened, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Mama was practically rubbing her hands together with glee at the prospect of keeping her overnight.
“Your mama . . .” She pushed up on her elbow. “God, did everybody know about this but me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Roz knows we’re . . . that’s just very strange. But I don’t think I should—”
“Mama said to remind you she managed to raise three boys, keep them all alive and out of jail.”
“But . . . I’m a terrible mother. I want to stay.”
“You’re not a terrible mother. You’re an awesome mother.” He sat up as she did, took her shoulders. “You know Lily’s fine, and you know Mama loves having her.”
“I do. I do know that, but . . . what if she wakes up and wants me? Okay,” she said with a sigh when he just lifted his eyebrows. “If she wakes up, Roz’ll handle it. And Lily loves spending time with her, and Mitch. I’m being a cliché.”
“But you’re such a pretty one.”
She looked around the room. Beautiful, sumptuous—absolute freedom. “We can really just stay?”
“I’m hoping you will.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t have any . . . things, you know? Not even a toothbrush. A hairbrush. I don’t have my—”
“David packed you a bag.”
“David . . . well, that’s all right then. He’d know what I’d want.” She felt giddy little bubbles rising up in her throat. “We’re just staying?”
“That’s the plan. If it’s okay with you.”
“If it’s okay with me?” she repeated, and a gleam came into her eyes as she launched herself at him. “Let me show you what I think about that.”
LATER, SHE CAME rushing out of the bathroom. “Harper, did you see these robes? They’re so big and soft.” She stood rubbing a sleeve against her cheek. “There are two of them, one for each of us.”
Lazily, he opened one eye. The woman, he thought, was proving to be insatiable. Praise Jesus. “Nice.”
“Everything in here is wonderful.”
“Romeo and Juliet suite,” he murmured, almost drifting.
“What?”
“The suite. It’s the Romeo and Juliet suite.”
“Really, but that’s . . .” Her brows drew together. “Well, if you think about it, they were a couple of teenage suicides.”
On a laugh, he opened his eyes. “Trust you.”
“I never saw it as being romantic. Tragic is what it was—and plain stupid. Not the play,” she corrected, turning a circle to swirl the robe. “It’s brilliant, but those two? Oops, she’s dead, I’ll drink this poison. Oops, he’s dead, I’ll stab myself in the heart. I mean, Jesus, and I’m babbling.”
“What you are,” he said, staring at her, “is fascinating.”
“I get pretty opinionated about books. But whoever it’s named for, the suite’s downright awesome. It just makes me want to dance all around it, buck-ass naked.”
“I knew I should’ve brought a camera.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Holding the robe up like a cape, she swirled once more. “I think it’d be sexy if we took naked pictures of each other. Then when I’m old, and all brittle and wrinkled up, I’d look at myself and remember being young.”
She bounced onto the bed. “You got any naked pictures of yourself?”
“Not so far.”
“Look at you.” She tickled his knee. “You’re embarrassed.”
“Not entirely.” Oh yeah, he thought, she was fascinating. “You got any?”
“Never trusted anybody enough before. And I’ve got this bony build. But you didn’t seem to mind it.”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
He meant it, and wasn’t that a miracle? She could see it in his eyes. She’d felt it in his touch. “I feel beautiful tonight.” She rose, wrapping the white robe around her. “All plush and lush and decadent.”
“Let’s order dessert.”
She stopped twirling. “Dessert? But it’s almost two in the morning.”
“They have this amazing invention called twenty-four-hour room service.”
“All night? I’m such a rube. But I don’t care.” She plopped back down on the bed. “Can we eat it up here? In bed?”
“The rules attached to twenty-four-hour room service are if you order after midnight, you’re required to eat in bed. Naked.”
She grinned wickedly. “Rules are rules.”
They lay belly-down, facing each other, with a plate of chocolate-soaked cake between them.
“Probably going to be sick,” she said as she ate another mouthful. “But it’s so good.”
“Here.” He stretched out an arm, managed to grab one of the glasses on the floor. “Wash it down.”
“I can’t believe you ordered another bottle of champagne.”
“You can’t do naked chocolate cake without champagne. It’s declassé.”
“If you say so.” She drank, then forked up more cake and held it out for him. “You know . . .” She wagged the fork at him. “On the date-o-meter you’re going to have to go a ways to top this one. I don’t think I can settle for anything less than, oh, a wild weekend in Paris or maybe a quick jet to Tuscany to make love in a vineyard.”
