Page 12 of The VIP Package

My mouth starts to twitch. I fight to refrain from laughing again.

One haughty brow lifts. “Is something amusing?”

“You’re not a little bit amused?”

He doesn’t respond, but something in his eyes goes a little bit softer. He looks down at his torso, then back at me. Clearing his throat, he drops his hand from my arm. “Follow me.”

And like a complete moron, I do as he says.

CHAPTER 4

ASHTON

“Here you go, Madam.”

I set down a fine China plate artfully arranged with chicken nuggets, tater tots, apple slices, and a frozen passionfruit tartlet warmed in the microwave. Sliding a set of fine cutlery from my pocket, I set it on the table beside her. Next to that, I place a pouch of Capri Sun. “Bon Appetit.”

“Thank you.” Camille dives into her dinner, eating with the same ravenous hunger she brought to our sexual encounter.

I really should stop thinking about that.

Or noticing how nicely she fills out the simple gray sundress we grabbed in the on-site boutique on our way here. She pointed it out in the window, making her selection with the same forethought she gave our sexual encounter.

“That one’s fine,” she said as I attempted a dignified undressing of the mannequin. “Thank you again.”

“Surely you’d like to assess other sizes, colors, styles?—”

“I’m really not picky. Size doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” I handed her the garment, along with a new pair of lacy white panties like the ones I’d just ripped off her body. “You suggested otherwise in the boiler room.”

Camille blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re really something, Ash Hole.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how she meant it. Like a gentleman, I waited outside the spa’s locker room while she donned her new outfit. I grabbed two more dresses, one in a shade of dark green I imagined would set off her eyes. She emerged five minutes later looking lovely and combed in the breezy gray sundress that fits like a glove.

“Thank you,” she said, adjusting a strap on her shoulder. “Please take me to food now.”

Which I’ve done, because guest satisfaction matters. Also, because I’m inclined to do whatever she asks when she looks at me with those bright hazel eyes brimming with ravenous energy.

In this case, though, it’s purely for food.

She’s licking her fingers as she swallows a fat chicken nugget, and I definitely don’t think about how that tongue felt wrapped around my cock. She starts on the tater tots next, wolfing them down with a zeal that’s, frankly, impressive.

“You okay?” she says, looking up from her meal.

“Certainly. Why?”

“You’re watching me eat like you’re hungry for something.” She picks up one of her last three tots. “Want one?”

“No, thank you.”

She pops it in her mouth with a grin. “Good, because I’m starving.”

Watching her eat is like watching her have sex. One’s certainly more satisfying, but both feel like witnessing true passion in action. I’m a little bit envious, and not just of chicken nuggets.

Glancing away, I scan the beachfront restaurant for repair projects scheduled to occur during our closure. The thatched roof over the bar took a beating in the last tropical storm, so I’ve hired a handful of local workers to attend to it. They’re alreadyhalf done, calling to each other in the local dialect as one man points out a pod of gray whales arching through bright turquoise waters. A gentle sea breeze stirs the fan overhead, and I’m pleased to see someone’s already cleaned the blades.

I run a tight ship, but I take good care of my people. Of that, I’m confident.

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