Page 129 of Mexico Can Choke On It
My lungs seize.
I snatch the robe from his hand. “I am simply experimenting with some temperature therapy.”
Gavin’s eyes flick down to the fluffy spa slippers strewn across the floor, then snap back to me. “Look, I get it—the Amanda thing is still raw. But if you’re that desperate, I’m sure we can find a bridesmaid to… comfort you.”
Part of me wants to inform him that I already have, and it happens to be the most incredible sex of my life.
“Was there something specific you needed?” I ask, hoping to redirect the conversation.
“Emergency board meeting. They want a full debrief on the auditor situation before we involve legal counsel. Can you walk them through it?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Gavin moves toward the exit, his hand turning the door handle—then stops. “If you are involved with the staff… keep it discreet, all right? We can’t afford any more issues.”
“I don’t make a habit of inviting trouble,” I reply.
He’s halfway out when he adds over his shoulder, “At least make sure she signs an NDA before you explore her pressure points.”
And then he’s gone.
I wait a beat—long enough for the sound of his footsteps to fade—then launch into motion. Robe in hand, I rush to the ice chamber, fling the door open… and find Petra freezing her gorgeous tits off.
“P-P-Prince FFFF-Freezerburn returns-s-s.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, rushing to her, wrapping the robe around her shoulders, and guiding her safely out. “You know how long-winded your brother is.”
I slam the igloo door and reel her into my arms, feeling the violent shivers wracking her body. I rub my palms along the fabric to generate warmth.
“This wasn’t the friction I had planned,” I say, dipping my head to blow warm air along her neck.
“Yeah, me neither.”
Thankfully, her warmth returns after a few minutes, and she melts into my embrace. Every curve and contour of her body aligns with mine, and I’ve never felt so content.
I gently cup her face in my palms. “I have to go—Gavin needs me. But after dinner…” I lean in, lightly kissing her lips, “come to my suite. We’re going to finish what we started.”
Her wicked smile emerges. “You are officially on thin ice, Moneybags. Literally and figuratively. So be concerned. I intend to make you suffer.”
“I’m anticipating every moment of it.”
If revenge means her hands and mouth all over me while that wicked fire burns in her eyes as I beg…then yes, please, punish me.
Hell, I’ll provide the ice myself.
***
Everyfiberofmybeing aches to be inside Petra again.
Since the Ice Room, I’ve been counting down the hours. Three meetings where I pretended to care about profit margins while my mind replayed her breathy moans. A dinner where her wandering fingers found me throbbing under the table. Her innocent smile was a mask for the torture she was inflicting. I excused myself twice to splash cold water on my face and to will my erection into submission.
Now I’m pacing in my suite, wearing my silk boxers, chest bare to the humid Mexican air. The terrace doors are thrown wide, letting in the sound of rolling waves and night birds. My skin is hot, my jaw tight, and my cock’s been hard since the soup course. Every tick of the clock grates on my nerves.
8:12 p.m.
She’s testing my patience and she knows it.
I glance at the door as though it owes me an apology. Then I rake my fingers through my hair, already regretting how much of my sanity I’ve given this woman in a week. Yet, here I am, begging for more.
