Page 28 of Dreamboat

He sits his bare ass down, his hand dropping to his erection. He palms it lightly.

It takes all of my effort to ignore that. I squirt two pumps of shampoo into my palm from a bottle sitting on a shelf in the corner. I rub my hands together before I step between his legs and get to work.

He moves his hands so they’re resting on my hips. “I could get used to this, Delia.”

“So could I,” I say to myself, not wanting him to know how I truly feel.

He hums in approval with his eyes closed as I massage his scalp while I stare at his face.

“You’re perfect,” I mouth the words without any sound escaping me.

He is perfect and I’m going to enjoy that perfection until I go back to the life I’ve chosen for myself. A life that leaves no room for love or anything that comes with that.

“Shrimp scampi?” I laugh. “I love this.”

“I know.” Donovan grabs the corner of one of the linen napkins off the room service cart. He snaps it in the air before placing it over my lap.

Since I took the time to pack a few things in my tote bag when I visited my cabin earlier, I’m wearing a dark blue strapless sundress now and a pair of lace panties.

I have another extra change of clothes in case I spend the night here again.

“There’s risotto, too.” He lifts the lid on another silver cloche to reveal a big bowl filled with what smells like divine risotto.

“I must have posted on social media about my favorite dinner at some point.”

It’s more a statement than a question, but Donovan responds with a nod. “You were at Calvetti’s with your brother.”

“Callum,” I say with confidence since I remember the visit well.

I posted an image of the food on our table, which included a bowl of risotto, eggplant parmesan and a small dish of shrimp scampi that the owner, Martina Calevtti, insisted I try.

“You are a grade A stalker, Dr. Hunt.”

“I aim to be the best at everything I do.” He smiles. “Eat, Delia.”

I point at the other chair next to the small dining table. “Join me.”

He drags it closer to where I am before he takes a seat. He’s dressed in black shorts and a plain blue T-shirt. It complements the color of his eyes in such a perfect way that it’s impossible not to notice how brilliantly blue and green they are.

“You’re staring at me,” he notes, amusement tainting his tone.

“You’re staring at me,” I toss his words right back at him.

“Guilty as charged.” He kisses me softly. “Eat, Delia. Then I’ll show you dessert and you’ll read to me.”

I glace at the two cloches he has yet to uncover. “You’re spoiling me.”

“You’re spoiling me,” he echoes my words just as I did his a moment ago.

I let out a bark of laughter. “I’m famished. Let’s eat.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Donovan

“I can’t remember the last time I took a bath,” I tell Delia as she wiggles her toes against my palm. “I’ve been missing out.”

“Big time.” She smiles. “It’s soothing, isn’t it?”

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