“I think we should get out of here.” I hear the huskiness in my voice myself, and the way that Elliott snaps his glowing face back up at me tells me he hears it too.

“Let’s get a hotel.” His eyebrows dance at the possibility of getting back on track sooner than he anticipated.

“Sure, we can make a weekend of it.”

And with that, my better half needs no further encouragement. We abandon our bottle fizzing in the cooler and head outside to find a cab. That’s one good thing with Elliott’s fame declining over the last few years, he has at least been able to drop the close protection. — although no doubt that will change again soon when the masses hear that with all of his combined assets, he’s well on his way to billionaire status.

Once we’re checked into the royal penthouse suite at the best accommodation London has to offer, we allow ourselves to unravel.

“I don’t know what it is about being in a hotel, but I always want to soak in the tub,” Elliott says.

I know where this is going and I’m happy to oblige. “Well, let me be the one to assist you with your request.” I cross my hand over my stomach and fold at the waist in a mocking bow before padding off in my hotel slippers to the marble bathroom.

The water is filling nicely, and I take the opportunity to undress to my underwear, in the hope of seducing the man I love. Collecting a robe from where it’s hanging on the back of the door, I pay my man a visit while playing the role of his servant.

“Would sir like to make himself more comfortable while he waits for his bath to run?” As I walk into the bedroom area, holding the robe out in front of me and stop short.

Elliott has laid back on the bed and has basically fallen asleep on me. Poor guy, he must be exhausted. He’s barely slept in the past few months from a heady blend of exhilaration at the possibility of being able to hit Chase where it will really hurt him and stressing over ending up with egg on his face and being branded greedy by the press.

I decide to let him sleep and so instead of bathing and pampering him, I slip down my boxer briefs and sink into the water, sucking in air as the heat burns into my flesh.

My splashing must rouse Elliott from his snooze though, because not one minute later, he’s standing fully clothed, still in his suit trousers and open collar at the door. He leans one arm against the door jamb as his eyes caress my nakedness. I swear, I feel their touch on my skin and those gorgeous ice eyes make my heart swell and my cock twitch.

“How are you doing there, husband?”

I allow a lazy smile to cross my lips. “Pretty darn good thank you. Better now you’re here.”

He nods once, not moving, just allowing his eyes to drink me in. My hand automatically heads to my now fully hard length as I stroke the ache which is tormenting me away.

“Leave that,” he says as he bites his bottom lip.

I do as I’m told.

“Place both hands on the side of the tub,” he instructs.

The only sound is the sploshing of the water as it drips from my eagerly removed fingers. I splay them over the edge.

“Take off your shirt,” I demand without breaking eye contact.

I watch as his slender fingers flirt with the buttons on his white suit shirt, slowly slipping one section at a time closer to him being undressed. As I wait, my cock throbs under the water, the ripples tingling my swollen head. The thick cotton gapes as he tugs the bottom out from his trousers. He goes to unbuckle his belt.

“Leave that,” I say.

The smile which curls his lips is lazy as he flicks one eyebrow up, the flash in his eyes telling me he’s enjoying the show as much as I am. He shrugs one shoulder free and then the other before discarding the crisp cotton in a pool by his feet. Not once has he broken our eye contact, and it’s so fucking hot that my length is twitching, begging to be touched.