← Back
I shook my head, very slightly. Priya smiled against my mouth.
“Rosie,” she called, without taking her eyes off me. “I’m asleep. Go to bed. Tell me everything at breakfast.”
A pause. Then, muffled through the door: “You’re not asleep. You’re never asleep at midnight.” Another pause, longer. “Oh my God. Is there a man in there?”
“Goodnight, Rosie.”
“Use protection! There’s some in my washbag, I’ll leave it by the door!” A rustle, a thud, a cackle, and the sound of Rosie’s own door closing on her side.
Priya buried her face in my neck, shaking with laughter. “I am so sorry. She’s the worst.”
“She sounds great.”
“She is great. She’s also the worst.” She lifted her head. The laughter was still in her eyes but something else was there too now, darker and slower. The towel was gone. She was naked in my lap, warm and still damp, her nipples tight and dark, and she took my hand and put it on her breast like she was showing me where something was kept.
“I want this,” she said. “Just so we’re clear. I’ve wanted it since you held up that stupid key card.”
I kissed her throat. She arched into me with a sigh.
Then she glanced past my shoulder at the balcony doors, the city lights glittering beyond the glass. “Or,” she said, with a wicked little look, “we could take this outside. Seventh floor. Nobody can see.”