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Glancing into the bathroom mirror I finish my look with a slick of mascara. I run my fingers through my mane of thick chocolate coloured hair to separate the curls and spray a spritz of my favourite perfume onto the side of my neck… well, actually it’s Rome’s favourite perfume, I know he can’t resist me when I’m wearing it. I can see him in the reflection of the mirror, relaxing into the plump pillows, working diligently. Sunlight washes across his dark skin as he reclines, the lapel of his camel coloured robe has spilled open and is now revealing his toned torso beautifully. I look back at myself and bite the bottom of my lip, wishing he would glance away from his screen for just one second and see me, standing in a delicate lace thong, and one of his crisp white shirts. He doesn’t. His eyes stay locked to his tablet, his fingers deftly working their way over its surface. I watch as they move back and forth, over and over again and wish that they were dancing their way over my body instead.

There’s just something about him in this moment that I find wholly absorbing. It’s the look of concentration etched on his face—the way that his full lips part ever so slightly when his attention is focussed, and the fact that under his robe I can make out his exceptional form. My eyes linger, working their way down, drinking in every last drop there is. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and let the shirt I’m wearing fall open. My fingers are instinctively drawn to my nipples, I pinch them softly, letting delicate jolts of electricity course through my body as I roll them between my fingertips. A soft moan escapes my lips and I ache for him. Ache for some hot romantic sex.

I try and tell myself no, I should leave him to work, this is important to him, and I can get mine afterwards. I should wait. But, it’s like my head and heart are working against one another, my desire is in the driving seat and I can do little to stop it, not that I want to. I survey myself in the mirror, my nipples are now erect and there’s a pool of warm wetness begging to form between my legs. I can resist no longer, not that I ever stood a chance, I was never very good at denying myself. I turn around, and walk into the bedroom, my yearning increasing with each step. I sidle up to the edge of the bed and take a deep breath.

“Rome?” I say, tentatively.

He holds up a finger, to signal that he needs a moment. This is like fuel to a flame and does nothing but spur me on. I climb onto the bed to join him, impulsively I straddle him, my fingers wrap around his tablet as I attempt to take it from him.

“Babe! I’m really up against it, I’ve got to get this finished before we go to dinner, I’ve got less than an hour to get it all done,” he says. “I’m on a bit of a mission, sorry…”
“So am I,” I reply huskily.