Brothers of Paradise Series

She laughs, the little giggle again, and an entirely different kind of pleasure spreads through my chest. “Did I do my job well?” I ask.

“Very. You kept your word, too.” She looks down at my jaw. “I came twice.”

“Yes, you did.” Does she hear the satisfaction in my voice? “You orgasm easily,” I add. “That’s a great quality.”

She sighs and snuggles against me. “It feels like I’ve just had a workout,” she says.

Seems like we’ll sleep in the same bed tonight. I briefly consider if that’s a good idea-and of course it’s not-before dismissing it. No way am I kicking her out, not after what we’ve just done. Not after she’s just had sex for the first time.

And, I add to myself, reaching over to turn off the lights, it’s not like I mind.

Ivy

I blink my eyes open, but there’s no light. The room I’m in is bathed in a darkness so absolute it has to be artificial. Where am I?

It takes me a second to remember. Singapore. And the bed is comfortable beneath me, the comforter cozy, the man beside me warm.

Rhys is breathing deeply behind me, his arm thrown around my waist. We’d slept together yesterday.

I’d slept with someone.

It shouldn’t change things, really, but it still feels like the most momentous event. I’d gone on this trip convinced that I’d never find the right opportunity, the right man, a situation where it would feel effortless to try. But I had.

The darkness is an easy cloak for my wide smile. I reach down and run careful fingers over the arm resting around me, over the dark hair on his skin. It had been so much better than I’d thought it would be, having heard time and time again how people’s first times were often disappointing.

This hadn’t been the least bit disappointing.

But perhaps that’s understandable, considering I’m not a fumbling teenager, and Rhys probably has more experience than I feel comfortable thinking about.

I glance over at him, but I can’t see a thing. He must have pulled the curtains sometime during the night.

What happens now?

The part of me who always thinks ahead, the part that’s saved every penny I’ve ever made and follows itineraries to the letter, is staring at my sudden spontaneous side in outraged anger. Sleep with the photographer?

What are you thinking, Ivy?

But it’s very easy to silence her, because the truth is… I would’ve risked a lot more to have that one night with Rhys. To experience pleasure racketing through my body, and to have his hands touch my body like he loved it. Like he couldn’t wait to be inside me, like he needed me.

My smile grows wider.

And so what if I haven’t looked at my physical therapy textbooks in days? There’ll be time for that. Rhys goes where he wants, he does what he pleases. Perhaps I can be more like that.

I glance over at the alarm clock on the bedside table and nearly jolt up in alarm. We’ve slept for nearly ten hours.

Beside me, Rhys stirs and gives a low groan. The arm around my waist tightens, his leg against mine, and I smile again. Worth it.

So worth it.

He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Good morning.”

His hand smooths over my stomach, before sliding up to cup my breast. It’s a casual touch, but it means the intimacy is still here. No morning awkwardness.

“Sleep well?”

“Like the dead,” he says, voice hoarse. “You?”

“Same. We must have been tired.”

“Clearly.”

I try to turn, to see what he looks like newly awake, but I can’t make out any clear shapes. “It’s late,” I tell him.

“The time?”

“Yeah.”

“Drop the itinerary, Ives.”

I push against his chest. “Not when it’s our job.”

He sighs and stretches to flick a switch by his bedside table. A mechanic motor kicks into gear and then the giant draperies start to slide open. We both wince at the sharp light they reveal.

“How late is late?” he asks.

“As in, I’m supposed to be in hair and makeup in twenty minutes.”

“Well, that’s easy.” He settles back down, pulling me into his arms so I’m draped across his wide chest. “Skip it. You don’t need it, anyway. I like photographing you au natural.”

I run a hand under my eyes. “I never removed my makeup yesterday. You distracted me.”

“Guilty.” His smile is crooked.

“Do I look like a raccoon?”Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“No,” he says, but he has an eyebrow raised. “A panda, perhaps. They’re cuddlier.”

“You’re very kind.”

He pushes my hair back, off my face. “I do my best.”

We look at each for a long moment. The deep green of his eyes is thoughtful, soft, illuminated by the morning light. I’m the one who looks away, unable to stop myself from smiling.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just… I can’t believe we did that last night.”