He smirks and says, “And here I thought you’d be a cream and sugar kind of girl with all your sweetness in the morning.”
I move my hands to my hips and say, “What, I’m not sweet enough already?” Then throwing caution to the wind, feeling so comfortable with him, experiencing not an ounce of unease or pretense, I stroll over to him as he motions me to sit on his lap.
The early dawn turns into a hazy morning, light streams from the beautiful yellow glow to my east. I sit on his lap with my knees bent and feet resting on his knee. We drink our coffee as he feeds me pieces of a croissant since one of my hands is glued to my morning coffee and the other is wrapped around his neck.
We continue to kiss and talk even after the sun has fully risen. Dazzling beams of sunlight reflect in his tousled hair and it takes on a multitude of shades from blonde to brown. I look at this incredibly attractive man in awe. He catches my gaze and kisses me a little longer and a little deeper. His touches also become more intimate. I try to calm the overwhelming feeling of desire creeping throughout my body. As his fingers drift up my leg, I suddenly become fully aware that I’m pantiless. I grab his hand and say, “Come on, we have to do the interview,” then pull him through the door heading toward the living room.
Stopping in the bedroom, he grins and nods toward the bed. “You can interview me while we lay in bed.”
Looking at his gorgeous smiling face, his smooth chest, well-defined abdominal muscles, and gleaming green eyes now ablaze, I know I should say no, resist the temptation, but I can’t, so I shake my finger at him in warning. “Okay, but you better behave, I need to finish this interview.”
Walking into the living room to get my small portable notebook, I hear him mutter, “I promise nothing.”
I can’t help but smile at his remark as I reach for my things. I’m in awe of how his charming smile makes me smile. Before going back to the bedroom, I walk over to the kitchen counter, press play on the docking station, and hit the room change button directing the music to the bedroom. Immediately, I hear the band Fuel singing I Should Have Told You. I love this song.
When I walk into the bedroom, I see River lying on his side, leaning on an elbow that is propped on the pillow. His head resting on his hand, his other arm is slung loosely over his hip. His legs are slightly bent with one propped up, and he’s watching me intently. He is so hot. He starts to anxiously bite his thumbnail and I can’t look at this complete vision of perfection any longer, so I avert my eyes. I know I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m too close to him; I decide to sit at the foot of the bed.
Taking my portable notebook out of my bag, I turn it on and pull up the list of questions we started on yesterday. He takes the thumb he was just biting and starts rubbing circles up my legs. His still moist touch sends shivers up my spine. I can’t even think about focusing on my list of questions.
“Behave,” I admonish as I glance at him from my computer screen. Putting my hand over his wandering one, and in a more playful tone, I say, “Sound Music paid me to come to Las Vegas and do an interview, not do you, not to have a one-night stand and get on the plane empty-handed.” I say the last few words in a much more teasing tone to help lessen the blow of the truth in the reality.