Reese sat up. “It’s time for my nine o’clock feeding.”
Knight shifted, pulling out of her. With a sigh, Reese let go of him and lay on the bed next to him, curling up on her side.
“You’re not serious, are you?” Knight pulled off the condom and stood up.
She watched him walk to the bathroom, enjoying the view of his fine behind, feeling the inexplicable urge to land her hand on it with a resounding smack.
Geez, she was turning possessive.
“Yes, I’m serious. I think I’ll order more chicken wings. Want some?”
Scooping his briefs off the floor, he said, “So you’re ready to call 911 about my knee, but you’ll kill me with chicken wings?”
He had a point. “So order a salad or something.”
The bathroom door slammed shut on a grunt.
Reese flopped back onto the bed, staring at the white speckled ceiling trying to remember exactly why she was in Chicago in the first place. Three days ago she had stepped onto a plane, ticked off that she’d drawn the short straw and the lousy assignment yet again.
Thanking the Fates that Knight’s witness had put the documents in the wrong rental car, she did a quick assessment of her life back in New York.
Crappy job. Lousy apartment. Zero sex life.
Yet here, for the last seventy-two hours she had been chasing a major story, eating room service, and having hands-down the best sex of her entire existence on earth. Going home right now seemed about as fun as doing her taxes.
That wasn’t fun. This was fun.
The decision wasn’t all that hard to make. By the time Knight reemerged, wearing his briefs and running his fingers through his hair, she had formulated a plan.
Sitting up, she reached for her pajama pants, forgoing the panties. “So do you want a salad?”
His sigh was heartfelt. “Okay.”
Not seeing her tank top, she headed for the phone without it. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic about it.”
Knight stopped dragging his jeans on to stare at her. “Would you get excited about rabbit food? I don’t see you ordering a big old bowl of water and roughage. ”
With good reason. Still, she took pity on the guy. It must really suck to suffer every time you ate something that tasted good.
“You want me to eat a salad, too? I can eat a salad.” As long as it was followed by a slab of cheesecake.
“You’re not going to eat a salad.”
“Yes, I am.” Every last crouton.
“Bullshit.”
Picking up the phone, Reese dialed room service. “Yes, I’d like two house salads with ranch dressing and a piece of cheesecake.” Then she panicked. After all that lettuce, she was going to need something to purge it from her system. “And two Bud Lights and a slice of carrot cake. Thank you.”
Knight was smirking. “Couldn’t do it, could you?”
“I can’t help it. The only thing green I ever ate growing up was Jell-O.”
He shook his head. “And I can’t believe you just ordered room service topless.”
She glanced down at her bare breasts. “It’s not like he could see me. And you’re topless, too.”
“That’s a little different, Reese.” He climbed onto the bed, stalking towards her, on his knees like a lion towards his prey. “Not that I mind. Trust me, I do not mind.”