offering her first smile of the day. She also took a long, appreciative look over at Luthor, with no shirt on, and licked her lips. “Take it easy tonight,” she said to me as she left.
Simon and Suzanne were satisfied I wasn't about to die, and went off to change and get ready for dinner.
Luthor sat beside me, checking messages and email on his phone. He looked up at me once we were alone and said, “I can turn this off. Just say the word.”
“No, no.” My voice sounded funny coming out of my head. The painkillers were kicking in, and I had a floating feeling, offset by the flat feeling of shock. “You didn't come to Indonesia to sit in a kitchen. You can check your email. Hey, is there any email for me?”
He gave me an amused look. “Nope, just for me.”
“Good,” I said, waving a hand to show how laid-back I was. “Because I am not in the mood for business. Suzanne always sends me ten emails a day. Did you know that?”
He smirked. “I did not.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth, then whispered. “I feel weird.”
“We should get you over to the villa, to rest.”
I pulled my foot out of the hot water bath. “The soup is done.”
Luthor got me to my feet, and the kitchen staff came over with a basket of food for us to take back to the villa, as I'd be missing dinner.
That evening, our last scheduled night at the resort in Indonesia, I was a little loopy from the painkillers, not to mention the white wine I'd insisted I could have from the mini fridge.
We'd enjoyed a lovely picnic in our room, just the two of us.
My brain was mush. I had words in my head, and I'd say them, but they'd come out all wrong.
For example, I wanted to express how lovely the private pool outside our villa seemed in the moonlight. Instead, I said, “Me pool.”
Luthor shook his head and said, grinning, “You're not a pool, Lexie.”
We were seated on the little sofa in the room, me still in my two-piece swimsuit, and so relaxed and drugged-up that I wasn't sucking in my tummy or keeping my posture perfect for Luthor. He was equally relaxed, and shirtless, yet even slouched he looked delicious.
I reached over and squeezed the area around his navel. “Why do you have no body fat? Do rich people have some cream I don't know about?”
He grabbed my hands, encouraging them up and over his chest, then around his neck so he could kiss me.
“I can't feel my lips,” I said.
He reached up and gently touched my lips with his fingers. “I can feel them just fine.”
I touched his lips with my fingers as well. He hadn't shaved that day and his upper lip was pleasantly stubbly, in contrast to his soft lips. He kissed my fingers, his hazel eyes gazing into mine, as hungry as ever. There was a hollowness to his cheeks that gave him a look of always wanting. It made me yearn to satisfy his every need.
He pulled my hand away and kissed my lips, pulling me into him. As I shifted, one foot brushed up against the bandaged injury on my shin and I tensed from the pain, though it was a dull pain thanks to the pills and wine.
Luthor pulled back and gave me a worried look. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“Me neither.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and then he got up, saying, “Let's move you to the bed.”
“Okay.”
With my arm over his shoulders, I hopped over to the bed. I could walk on the injured leg, as nothing was actually broken, but it didn't feel good because of the swelling. He picked me up and set me on the bed, then took one of the pillows and propped up my bandaged leg.
I thought he was going to lie down next to me, to continue the kissing we'd started, but he held back, standing there.
“I'm sorry,” I said, and the next thing I knew, I was crying. The injury, the scare, the emotions, the stitches, the wine, and Luthor Thorne —it was all too much.
He sat down next to me on the bed and looked really uncomfortable. “Don't be sorry, Lexie. You didn't do anything wrong.”
Sniffing, I said,
Simon and Suzanne were satisfied I wasn't about to die, and went off to change and get ready for dinner.
Luthor sat beside me, checking messages and email on his phone. He looked up at me once we were alone and said, “I can turn this off. Just say the word.”
“No, no.” My voice sounded funny coming out of my head. The painkillers were kicking in, and I had a floating feeling, offset by the flat feeling of shock. “You didn't come to Indonesia to sit in a kitchen. You can check your email. Hey, is there any email for me?”
He gave me an amused look. “Nope, just for me.”
“Good,” I said, waving a hand to show how laid-back I was. “Because I am not in the mood for business. Suzanne always sends me ten emails a day. Did you know that?”
He smirked. “I did not.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth, then whispered. “I feel weird.”
“We should get you over to the villa, to rest.”
I pulled my foot out of the hot water bath. “The soup is done.”
Luthor got me to my feet, and the kitchen staff came over with a basket of food for us to take back to the villa, as I'd be missing dinner.
That evening, our last scheduled night at the resort in Indonesia, I was a little loopy from the painkillers, not to mention the white wine I'd insisted I could have from the mini fridge.
We'd enjoyed a lovely picnic in our room, just the two of us.
My brain was mush. I had words in my head, and I'd say them, but they'd come out all wrong.
For example, I wanted to express how lovely the private pool outside our villa seemed in the moonlight. Instead, I said, “Me pool.”
Luthor shook his head and said, grinning, “You're not a pool, Lexie.”
We were seated on the little sofa in the room, me still in my two-piece swimsuit, and so relaxed and drugged-up that I wasn't sucking in my tummy or keeping my posture perfect for Luthor. He was equally relaxed, and shirtless, yet even slouched he looked delicious.
I reached over and squeezed the area around his navel. “Why do you have no body fat? Do rich people have some cream I don't know about?”
He grabbed my hands, encouraging them up and over his chest, then around his neck so he could kiss me.
“I can't feel my lips,” I said.
He reached up and gently touched my lips with his fingers. “I can feel them just fine.”
I touched his lips with my fingers as well. He hadn't shaved that day and his upper lip was pleasantly stubbly, in contrast to his soft lips. He kissed my fingers, his hazel eyes gazing into mine, as hungry as ever. There was a hollowness to his cheeks that gave him a look of always wanting. It made me yearn to satisfy his every need.
He pulled my hand away and kissed my lips, pulling me into him. As I shifted, one foot brushed up against the bandaged injury on my shin and I tensed from the pain, though it was a dull pain thanks to the pills and wine.
Luthor pulled back and gave me a worried look. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“Me neither.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and then he got up, saying, “Let's move you to the bed.”
“Okay.”
With my arm over his shoulders, I hopped over to the bed. I could walk on the injured leg, as nothing was actually broken, but it didn't feel good because of the swelling. He picked me up and set me on the bed, then took one of the pillows and propped up my bandaged leg.
I thought he was going to lie down next to me, to continue the kissing we'd started, but he held back, standing there.
“I'm sorry,” I said, and the next thing I knew, I was crying. The injury, the scare, the emotions, the stitches, the wine, and Luthor Thorne —it was all too much.
He sat down next to me on the bed and looked really uncomfortable. “Don't be sorry, Lexie. You didn't do anything wrong.”
Sniffing, I said,
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