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the lobby. Let’s just call it a night, or a day, or whatever, shall we?”
    “It’s a bit early to call it a day… it’s just starting.”
    “Don’t you have to be somewhere?” Sarah sounded like she was talking to a stray dog.
    He looked almost crestfallen, then smiled.
    “I get it. Over and out. Roger that. Pizza and a six-pack and all that. I’m not complaining!” Before she knew what he was doing, he was up and out of the bed, strolling stark naked around the chamber, looking through the shotgun spray of clothes and undergarments that littered the floor and furniture.
    When he came upon her microscopic white lace underwear, he held them up with his curved pinky and asked, “Are these yours or mine?”
    Sarah pulled the sheets up over her head and squirmed. “I am so mortified!” she squeaked from under the covers, then peeked one eye out to see him.
    “I suspect they are yours.” He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, as if assessing the quality, then nodded his approval and tossed them onto the bed. He continued his naked parade around the room looking for his own kit, Sarah’s gaze following him with what could only be described as raw lust. His body was insane, the hard planes of his stomach, the sinewy pull of his shoulders. Every muscle screamed, “I’m alive!” His arms. His back. His legs. Sarah sighed and let herself enjoy the view.
    “Enjoying the show, are you?”
    “Mm-hmm,” she answered.
    After a few minutes, he was more or less dressed and came to the edge of the bed to say good-bye. She loved the pressure and warmth of his body as he sat on the mattress next to her. All of a sudden, he tugged the sheet down until he had a full view of her flushed, beatific face, rather than that single roving eye. Her hair was a wild mass of mussed gold, honey, and barely brown loose curls, framing her cheekbones and jawline. Her eyes were… going to be the death of him. Cornflower. Aquamarine. Rimmed in a dark, mischievous cobalt. Devon let the back of his fingers trail down her cheek and neck, then came in for a farewell kiss.
    “My breath!” Sarah squawked, pulling the sheet up to her nose.
    Devon laughed, yanking the sheet down to her waist and pulling open her robe. Her hands flew up to her breasts.
    “Didn’t you know lovers never have morning breath?” he whispered as he let his right hand rest warmly on her rapidly fluttering lower belly, his mouth taking hers for a deep, passionate kiss that felt more like the beginning of another seduction, rather than the good-bye it was clearly meant to be. Sarah went limp with renewed pleasure and he chuckled and pulled away.
    “This is not over. By the way.” He got up from the bed and walked over to the window seat to put his shoes and socks on.
    Sarah pulled the sheets back up to cover herself and he smiled and shook his head. His dress shirt was open at the collar and his tie was shoved halfway into the side pocket of his dinner jacket.
    He looked delicious and he seemed to be enjoying Sarah’s endless gawking, a small half-smile playing across his lips. The shadow of his morning beard, the mussed hair falling into his face as he bent to tie his other shoe, the sparkle in his gray-blue eyes when he stood up.
    Sarah sighed again.
    “So, I’ll see you at the altar, then,” he crowed with a wicked smile and headed out the door, taking a moment to look right and left out into the hallway before he departed. “The coast is clear!” he called in a loud stage whisper, one hand forming the metaphorical megaphone on the side of his mouth. Then he blew her a kiss and whispered a soft, endearing, “Bye, lovely.”
    And then he was gone.
    Sarah was not usually one for kicking and screaming, but she couldn’t resist the urge to turn her face into the huge down pillow and squeal with adolescent delight. She pounded her legs and arms in a little horizontal victory dance. She had done it. It was done! She was officially not a virgin anymore.
    The