A Billionaire for Christmas(72)
She tweaked his chin. “Not in here, I presume?”
“Down the hall.” He held her close to his chest, his muscular arms bearing her weight as if she were no more than a child.
Being treated like Scarlett O’Hara seemed entirely appropriate here in the Peach State. Leo’s power and strength seduced her almost as much as the memory of last night’s erotic play. “The sofa is closer,” she whispered, noting the shadow of his stubble and the way his golden-skinned throat moved when he spoke huskily.
He nodded his head, hunger darkening his eyes. “I like the way you think.” He kissed her cheek as he strode across the room.
“No one knows you’re home, right?”
“Correct.”
“And there’s no one else on this floor?”
He shook his head, lowering her onto the soft cushions. “No.”
“So I can be as loud as I like?”
He stared at her in shock as her outrageous taunt sank in. “Good God Almighty.” Color crept from his throat to his hairline. “I thought you were a sweet young thing when I first met you. But apparently I was wrong.”
“Never judge a book by its cover, Mr. Cavallo.” She ripped her sweater off over her head. “Please tell me you have some more of those packets.”
Leo seemed fixated on the sight of her lace-covered breasts, but he recovered. “Damn it.” His expression leaned toward desperation.
“What’s wrong?”
“All of our luggage is downstairs.”
“Your bathroom. Here?”
“Well, yes, but somebody will be coming up that elevator any moment now.”
“Leo…” she wailed, not willing to wait another second. “Call them back. Tell them we’re in the shower.”
“Both of us?” He glanced at the door and back at her, frustration a living, breathing presence between them. An impressive erection tented his slacks. “It won’t be long. Fifteen minutes tops.”
The way she felt at the moment, five minutes was too long. She wanted Leo. Now.
Fortunately for both of them, a quiet chime sounded, presumably a doorbell, though it sounded more like a heavenly harp. Leo headed for the entrance and stared back at her. “You planning on staying like that?”
Her jaw dropped. She was half naked and the doorknob was turning in Leo’s hand. With a squeak, she clutched her sweater to her breasts and ran around the nearest wall, which happened to conceal the kitchen. Not even bothering to envy the fabulous marble countertops and fancy appliances, she listened with bated breath as Leo conversed with the bellman. At long last, she heard the door close, and the sound of footsteps.
As she hovered amidst gourmet cookware and the scent of unseen spices, Leo appeared. “He’s gone.” In his hand he held a stack of condoms. “Is this what you wanted?”
Eighteen
Leo had never particularly considered his kitchen to be a sexy place. In truth, he spent little time here. But with Phoebe loitering half naked, like a nymph who had lost her way, he suddenly began to see about a zillion possibilities.