Page 44 of Pleasure Payback

But the decor was the last thing on my mind when we arrived.

Neve was talking with Tyler outside the door.

In the most casual way I’d seen her dressed, in black denim that moulded to her hips and firm arse, and a scoop-necked fire-red T-shirt that clung to her breasts, with her blonde hair piled carelessly high on her head, she was every inch a delectable and fuckable sight.

A short sharp bite of acrid jealousy threw itself into the volatile cocktail swirling inside me as Tyler raised his hand to make a point and left it hovering near her cheek. Whatever he said made her laugh, the sound beautiful and sexy, just like the woman.

My stomach knotted uncomfortably. ‘Tyler, I think I saw your sister heading to the restaurant. Are you supposed to join her?’

He started, looking a little flustered as he glanced my way. ‘Uh...yeah.’

‘Best not keep her and the chef waiting.’

Tyler grimaced. ‘Sam’s intolerable when she’s hungry. But I’m used to it because she’s always hungry. I was just telling Neve—’

I interrupted. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. I have other business matters to attend to, so if you don’t mind?’

Tyler tensed. ‘You don’t want one of us around when you inspect the room?’ he asked Neve.

With one dismissive glance at me, she shook her head. ‘I’ll come find you in the morning to give you feedback. Go and enjoy your dinner.’

He summoned a smile. ‘Okay. Sure, no problem. We’ll...catch up tomorrow.’

I gave a tight nod and he left.

Neve turned to me, her face pinched and her eyes glaring. Somehow that eased the knot inside me. I was shallow enough to accept that was because her attention was on me.

Jesus. You’re bordering on pathetic, Mortimer.

‘Shall we?’ I suggested when she remained frozen in front of the suite.

‘Was that really necessary?’

I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘Good evening to you too. And yes. It was.’

Her mouth dropped open.

I reached behind her and nudged the door open. ‘Close your mouth, darling. You’ll catch flies. Besides, I think I made my stance pretty clear last night.’

She stumbled backwards into the room, her gaze fixed on mine.

‘You didn’t exactly say the words.’

‘Well, I’m saying it now. I intend to be the guy who takes care of that ache between your legs. Is that bloody clear enough for you?’

‘I think—’

The rest of her response never came. Her gaze shifted away from mine, widened, and I lost her again. This time to the splendour of a suite transformed into a nineteenth-century masterpiece.

‘Oh, my God.’ Her voice was hushed. Reverent. Filled with the kind of pleasure that had filled my ears one long night two years ago and not for long enough last night.

I stepped inside, kicked the door shut and reluctantly dragged my gaze from her face to the room.

It was impressive. The attention to detail alone was exceptional.

‘Indeed. Not what I expected,’ I conceded.

She turned to face me. ‘Let me guess, you anticipated a French boudoir to be a clichéd blood red and black silk?’

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