Back in the room, neither of us reaches for the light switch. MB slowly peels off my dress as my hands unbutton his shirt. My fingers slowly and methodically move across his chest. His hands cup my face and tilt it up towards his. I’m lost in his eyes and my legs weaken.
We slowly begin to move in sync with the music that’s heard in the distance. Moments later, we’re laughing and dancing half naked around the room. His arm scoops me up by my waist and we fall on the bed. Mouths and hands begin investigating areas of each other that have recently been neglected. Heels are kicked off, pants are removed, and all else is moved aside. Dance time will have to wait. What a delicious man.
The next morning, a sliver of sunlight wakes me up. If I get out of bed to shift the curtains, I’ll be too awake to fall back asleep. Cursing the morning light, I finally get out of bed, open the shuttered terrace doors, and order breakfast while MB continues to snooze. I follow the lines of his body as the rays of morning light cast a shadow. As usual, all but one bed sheet has wound up on the floor. It covers the back of MB in such a way that someone might think he wore only shorts to bed. I know otherwise.
As he did the morning before, MB retrieves the meats off my plate and gives me his eggs. One of the eggs starts to slide off and I quickly push it onto the plate with my thumb. The egg yolk pops and gets all over my fingers. As I reach for my napkin, MB grabs my wrist with one hand and interlocks his fingers with mine with his other. Ever so gently, he puts my thumb in his mouth and sucks off the egg. Then does the same, one by one, to my fingers.
