It Happened in L.A.: Ms Match / Shockingly Sensual / Playmates

The moment, however, was interrupted by a growl from his tummy.

“I need to feed you.”

“Don’t go,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

His stomach protested. Loudly.

She put her water bottle on the nightstand. “I’m going to get snacks. Then I’ll put on the movie. You don’t have to do anything but think wonderful thoughts.”

“You don’t want a hand?”

“Nope. I’ll be back in a flash.” She got out of bed and took her robe from the closet door hook. It was more of a kimono than a robe, and it felt wonderful on her naked skin.

She put together a quick fruit and cheese platter. It wasn’t all that miraculous a feat as she’d prepared everything that afternoon. Oh, and she didn’t want to forget the chocolate. It had been too expensive and way too many calories, but she’d wanted to take her decadence in one giant swallow. She even grabbed the bottle of champagne from the fridge.

It felt silly, how she’d been too embarrassed to have the champagne in the ice bucket. Another thing she refused to dwell on.

With a full tray, she headed back to the bedroom, anxious about what would happen next. He’d been an animal in the shower. So hot. Remembering made her nipples hard, which was actually pretty neat.

Right before her bedroom door, she paused. She’d barely given herself a moment to relax all day. Because if she’d thought things through, they would have watched the movie on the couch.

She might have been the one who suggested this next step, but there was still so much that made her anxious. Not that she hadn’t tried. She’d been vigilant about her thoughts. But he was in her bed. This wasn’t a couch quickie. This meant something. It pointed toward a future, and that future couldn’t just be him in her world.

Stop it! she told herself. It would all work out. Or it wouldn’t. Tonight? Bull Durham and sex.

He was on his side, head resting on his hand, watching her as she came into the room.

“Whoa,” he said as she put the tray on the bed. “You did all that just now?”

“Of course. We pillow women know our snacks.”

“I’m impressed. I’d have had to order out.”

She felt a little guilty about the lie. “Want to open the champagne, or should we wait?”

“I’m still working on my beer. Let’s put it in ice until we’re ready.”

She did, and then she got the DVD ready to go. By the time she was back in bed, he was sitting up, eyeing some smoked Gouda.

WHEN THE MOVIE WAS HALF-OVER, the tray was already on the dresser, they each had had some champagne, and Gwen was curled up in the warm cocoon of Paul’s arms. She listened more than watched, preferring to toy with the body so conveniently positioned for her pleasure. Her fingers sneaked through his dark hair, curling it, stroking it.

She also played with his nipples, using not just the pads of her fingers but her nails, her lips, her teeth, her breath.