The driver grinned. “I can indeed.”
The man had grown up in London, so he easily navigated not only the most popular routes, but those that had picturesque mews, cobblestone streets, and quaint shops. He dropped her at the Savoy, ensured her bags were taken up to her room, then the concierge accompanied her to the front desk, promising a smooth check-in.
“Will there be anything else, Ms. Matthews?” the concierge asked while the bellman unpacked the last of her things. “We’re all enormous fans and think it’s wonderful you have Roark Samuels living here at the Savoy.”
“I’ve always thought this was the best hotel in the world and was thrilled when your marketing manager gave me permission,” Sage replied, smiling and handing him a large tip.
“Well, why wouldn’t she? You’re kind of a big deal.”
“No, I’m not. Back then, I was nobody, and I do write pretty steamy stuff. I was just writing my first novel, but she was always so helpful. I could email her questions about hotel details and she’d give them to me. It allowed me to lend a sense of realism to the books.” When the bellman finished unloading her luggage, Sage tipped him and thanked both him and the concierge for all their help.
“Very good, Miss. Your evening meal has been arranged, and I can either have it sent up immediately or give you time for a bath.”
“What did Gail order for me?”
“A Caesar salad with grilled chicken, no croutons, and light dressing. Would you prefer something else?”
“What’s good? What would you have?”
The concierge grinned. “Our shepherd’s pie is second to none, then I’d add our truffled mash and the crushed mint peas, mixed together. Top it off with our vanilla crème brûlée.”
“That sounds even better.”
“I will take care of it. And allow me to substitute the breakfast she ordered.”
“Perfect,” Sage said, smiling.
“Sweet or savory for breakfast?”
“A bit of both.”
“Very well, Ms. Matthews. Would you like to take a bath before or after dinner?”
“A bath would be lovely.”
“Shall I have it drawn for you?” he asked helpfully.
“No, thank you. I can manage. How about if you give me an hour?”
“Very good, Miss,” he said before withdrawing.
Sage started the bathwater and smiled at the various fragrances she could add, opting for a light mix of vanilla and lavender. The combined aroma of the steam coming out of the tub was nothing short of divine.
Sage wandered back into her room while the water ran and carefully undressed, donning the Savoy-provided robe, and hung up her outfit. She had to admit Gail had exceptional taste—expensive but exquisite. She returned to the bath and removed her makeup, wrapping her hair in a towel provided for just that use. Testing the water, she removed her robe and stepped into the tub, sighing as she slid down so the water embraced her like a lover’s caress. Who was she kidding? It had been so long since she’d experienced any sexual gratification that wasn’t mutually negotiated at a club, she’d pretty much forgotten what true intimacy felt like.
After finishing her bath, she added moisturizer to her face and luxuriated in the Savoy’s body lotion. Fluffing her hair, she pulled on a robe and allowed the room service waiter into the room to set her dinner up on the table. Sage had opened her laptop and had it sitting on the desk. She had decided if this trip was going to cost her an arm and a leg, she was going to enjoy it. The first bite of her dinner made her relax back in the chair and moan in pure delight. The concierge had been right, it was heaven, and the rest of her meal had been even better.
After dinner, she worked on the latest Roark Samuels novel but found she was having trouble getting into it. After a frustrating hour where she deleted scenes as soon as she’d written them, she gave up and got ready for bed. She walked over to look out the window onto the thriving metropolis. It was such a harmonious mix of old and new. Sage wondered briefly about all those who had inhabited the city—walked its streets, making lives for themselves, and about all of those who had used the great river for transportation and recreation. Smiling, she removed her robe, placed it on the edge of her bed, stretched, and got into bed. Sage’s head had barely hit the pillow before she was fast asleep.
“That’s it, little one,” he said softly. “Close your eyes and sleep.”
He watched as the covers rose and fell with her breathing. When they’d first met, Sage had slept in a bra, tank top, and boy shorts. That pencil pusher who occasionally shared her bed hadn’t been much on romance and had the stamina of a weakened old man on his death bed. One and done Derek, he called him. He’d barely play with Sage before rolling on top of her or letting her get on top. A couple of thrusts and Derek would come, pulling out and snoring shortly thereafter. Sage only managed to achieve a climax when she took charge and was on top or when she finished herself.
If and when, no… when, he admonished himself, when he managed to break out, she wouldn’t be allowed to wear anything in bed. She would be available to him so he could pull her underneath him anytime he woke and wanted her. He would also forbid her from trying to pleasure herself. He would be in charge of all things sexual, and she would never be allowed on top. Sage had a bad habit, if given the slightest bit of rein, of taking the bit in her teeth and running. No, better to never allow her any sexual position, which in any way, shape, or form, allowed her to forget who was doing the fucking and who was being fucked.
He loved the way the bed covering outlined and emphasized her shape. Sage was not petite. She
