CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jack
Wrapped in a white fluffy robe, I’d just ordered our breakfast via the concierge tablet when there was a knock at the door. I swiped to the screen to see the FBI night agent, an African American woman standing there patiently, holding a white envelope. I opened the door.
“Good morning Mr. Boyd. I’m Agent Rochelle Jones,” she said holding her identity card up for me to check. “I hope you had a pleasant night.”
“We did, thank you.”
“The security guard from the Royal penthouse gave me this envelope to give to you and Mr. Linden,” she said.
“Oh, okay thanks,” I replied, a little disquieted as I accepted the envelope. We had no idea who was resident in the other suite. One of the other FBI agents had tried to befriend the door guard but got nowhere.
“Is there anything to report?” Agent Jones enquired.
“Nope, just a restful night’s sleep. We’re planning a lazy day and we don’t expect any visitors.”
“Thanks for updating me sir. And for your information, the agent changeover is at eight a.m.” she said. I thanked her and then I closed the door.
“Hey handsome, we got mail!” I called as I sauntered into the bathroom, the expensive cardstock envelope in my hand.
The bath was running and the scent of essential oils wafted in the steam.
I stood in the doorway observing my still naked lover finishing up his shave.
Watching a lover shaving had always been on my hot list!
Shining with playful desire, Nate’s blue eyes met mine in the bathroom mirror.
His heated look took the breath from me.
I gave a toothy grin and sheepishly waved the envelope.
“Open it,” Nate prompted, and so I did, pulling out an elegant printed invitation card, bordered in gold.
“Holy shit! You’ll never guess who our neighbour is.”
“I dunno the King of England? Madonna?”
I cleared my throat before reading, “Dear Nate and Jack. I request the pleasure of your company for brunch in the Royal Suite at midday, don’t be late! And it’s signed, Oliver Roux!”
Nate dropped his disposable razor into the sink full of water with a plink-plonk.
“What?” With the white towel slung over his shoulder, he wiped the remaining spots of foam from his throat and turned to me.
Nate was standing with his hands on his hips, his jaw tense, and his perplexed gaze asking me what the hell was going on.
I had no answers. The copper tub was three quarters full of steaming hot, fragrant water.
“The bath?” I prompted, and Nate rushed to turn off the tap.
Nate wasn’t pleased about the invitation and to be honest, neither was I, but I would not let that rich nut job ruin our day!
I tossed the invitation onto the counter, undid the belt, and let my robe pool at my feet.
Keeping eye contact with Nate I then stepped into the bath. The water temperature was perfect.
“We’ll deal with that later. This is our time!
” I said determinedly, and then eased down into the hot fragrant water.
The mixer tap was in the centre so we could both take an end, but Nate stepped into the bath and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he settled between my splayed thighs, and let out an indulgent sigh as he rested back against me, his head on my shoulder.
I wrapped him up and laid my hands on his abdomen.
“Why on earth does Oliver Roux want to meet us for brunch?” Nate grumbled. “Do you think he knows about the chips?”
“Hush. That’s for after the bath. I mean it!
” Nate was an over-thinker and he’d get lost in his head, keeping his feelings inside until he made peace with them and they faded or he blew up.
I’d only seen him lose his temper once, while in Paris, and it wasn’t a violent, destructive temper, it was frustration and helplessness.
Oliver Roux had thrown a spanner in the works and our precious day of lazy sensuality, sex and food was coming off the rails.
I was not happy about it. But at this moment Nate was warm and slippery in my arms and I was going to take full advantage.
I let a hand drift down and rub Nate’s chub. He arched his spine and let out a laugh. “Ohhhh babe! Well played. Your method of distraction’s uh…convincing!”
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