Page 68 of The Sebastian Guarantee
She walked up to him and stood between his legs. They were nearly the same height, with him sitting on the bed and her in heels. She ran her fingertips down his jawline, then loosened his tie. She slid the fabric from his neck and ran the silky material between her fingers. “Nice,” she remarked. She read the tag on the necktie and raised an eyebrow. “Hermès. The brand of the scarf our nanny matchmaker Madelyn Malone wears. Very posh.”
He stared at the silk tie, paying particular attention to the color—a deep enchanting shade of blue. He returned his gaze to Phoebe. “Want to know something crazy?”
She wound the fabric around her fingers. “I always want to know something crazy.”
“Madelyn gave me that tie. It was a gift for my last birthday.”
Phoebe released the rolled fabric and gave the ribbon of silk a swift examination. “Lucky for us, ties can’t see, hear, or talk,” she said, then flung the stretch of blue onto the bed.
“Why? What are you about to do in front of my Hermès tie?”
One by one, she undid the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged it off. Before it even hit the floor, she unbuckled his belt and started in on his pants.
“Are you in a hurry?” he teased, losing his trousers.
She knelt, then pulled off his shoes and slipped off his socks. Tossing the items aside, she met his gaze as a deliciously dirty grin bloomed on her lips. “Sebastian Cress, you’ll want to be naked for what I’m about to do.”
And stop the presses!Those might be the hottest words ever uttered in a lodge guest room.
“Is that right?” he shot back.
“Lose the boxer briefs,” she directed over her shoulder as she sauntered toward her suitcase perched on the floor next to a narrow fold-up cot.
He couldn’t see what she was doing, but she was making a racket. A quick zip, then a bit of rifling, followed by another zip.
She looked over her shoulder. “Don’t be weird about this.”
What was she doing?
She turned around and returned but kept whatever she’d procured from her bag behind her back. She moved her arms, wiggling a bit, then started buzzing.
Buzzing?
Buzzing!
His jaw dropped. “No way. No bloody way.”
“Sebastian Cress,” Phoebe announced, eyes twinkling with wanton delight, “meet my Wham Bam Thank You Libby Lamb deluxe vibrator.”
“Why do you have that?” he asked, wide-eyed.
She cocked her head to the side.
Jesus, that was an insanely stupid question. In his defense, he was buck naked, gawking at a goddess in lingerie and heels, who held the vibrator his beloved Mibby had designed. There was a very good chance his head was on the brink of exploding.
He cleared his throat. “Why did you bringitto Glenn Pines?”
“I don’t leave home without my Wham Bam.”
“What are you going to do with it now?” he stammered. Was he ready for this?
“I can tell you what we’re not going to do with it.” She sat next to him, scooted back, then rested her head on the pillow. “We won’t be dropping it into the bathtub like we did when we were kids and thought these beauties were submarine torpedoes.”
He joined her in bed. “If we’re not playing submarine torpedoes, what’s the plan?”
“The plan is for me to make myself come while you watch.”
Forget what she’d said before. Those were the hottest words ever uttered inside a lodge guest room.
