Page 47 of Tasty Cherry

“Happy birthday, Princess Gina!” he calls as he herds us back to the elevator.

When the doors close, Brooklyn says. “She’s a piece of work.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Most people are.”

I think about him all the way back to the ground floor and to the front desk, where he calls the kitchen to send someone up to assist the party.

He loves what he does. That’s plain.

And he’s good at it.

He’s good at everything.

I’m still thinking about him when I try to fall asleep that night.

Sebastian smiling. Him with the little girl.

Standing in front of a heart bed.

Any bed.

The thing about only ever having had sex one time is that you have had it.

And you want to have it again.

I regret pushing Sebastian’s hand away when he was over me that one night we had. I want to see what he would have done.

Can you really have two orgasms in one encounter?

I bet you can with Sebastian.

Yeah, I’m feeling it.

He doesn’t live on site at the castle like we do, and he went off shift at five.

It’s a good thing. I’d be sneaking down corridors, trying to find him.

Because as I get to know him better, as I see him interact with the employees, fun and easygoing but competent and self-assured, I like him more and more.

And he hasn’t stopped looking at me

I think that maybe, possibly, he feels exactly the same.

I turn on my belly, holding onto every detail from that one night. If I could go back, I would do things differently. I’d tell him. I’d let him take care of me. I’d savor it.

When I finally fall asleep, my dreams are torrid. Sebastian in the princess room, ripping off the ballgown. Me, holding the metal rails overlooking the flower garden, naked, him behind me.

I wake up sweaty and desperate for him.

What have I done?

I wash my hair in cooler water than usual, for the first time understanding why people take cold showers. To calm their thoughts. Bring themselves down.

I pick up a cup of coffee at the cart near the lobby and head to the front desk, bracing myself for seeing him after the night of sexy thoughts and dreams.

He’s there, perfect in his suit jacket and vest, smiling for an elderly couple who are checking out.

Now I get why people bite their fists. I fight the urge to do it myself.