About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(52)

Making my way to the door, I removed the robe from the hook and put it on. It was clearly made for a man Quinn’s size, because I was swimming in the damn thing. As soon as I stepped out, Quinn looked up from his place on the bed and gasped, “She’s alive!”

I snorted. “Oh, ha-ha.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

He stood as I sat on the bed, bringing forward a room service cart. Something caught my eye on the bed and, horrified, I gasped. “Oh, God. Oh no!”

Leaving the cart, Quinn rushed over, clearly worried. “What, Maya? What?”

My face miserable, I blinked away tears. “There’s blood on the sheets.” I sniffled. “Now everyone will know what a harlot I am. The maids will talk about how much of a ho I am then they’ll tell the cooking staff, and before you know it, the entire city will know.”

The bed depressed. An arm wrapped around me and pulled me into a shaking body. “Baby, no.” He tried to conceal his amusement, but he failed hardcore.

I nudged him roughly with my shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, Quinn.”

He feigned hurt. “Ow. Okay, okay. But seriously, this is not even a thing. Don’t even worry about it. Do you know how many newlyweds come to this hotel? They’ll just chalk it up to thinking we were just married.”

Newly married…to Matt Quinn.

Holy shit.

I swiped at my eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right.” I nodded to myself. “Yeah, you’re right.” I turned to him and tried to smile. “You can feed me now.”

He pulled me into his warm body then placed a kiss on my forehead. “At your service, m’lady.” The room service tray was parked right at my feet. When Quinn started to remove the coverings on the silver trays, I gasped.

Desserts as far as the eye could see.

Oh, Lord, I was in Heaven.

Bite-sized pieces of chocolate mud cake with streaks of chocolate sauce, tiny banana caramel pie, and even tinier lemon meringue pie, red velvet cake piled with cream cheese frosting, carrot cake with caramel frosting. Oh, my stars. If I were to die tonight, I’d welcome it knowing that this was the best day of my life.

Then he walked over to the mini bar fridge. “There’s one more. I had to special order this one.”

As soon as I saw the ramekin, I gulped. “Don’t tell me that’s a—” When it was in seeing distance, I threw myself back on the bed. “Sweet Jesus, it is.” Lifting myself onto my elbows, I uttered an awe-filled, “Crème br?lée. You sneaky shit.”

He sat next to me, grinning. “I remembered.”

I shook my head. “You remembered.” I hadn’t planned on doing what I was about to do, but I did it anyways. Wrapping my arms around him from the side, I placed my lips on his cheek and kissed the stubble there. “Thank you, Quinn. This is the best day ever.”

His arm came around my shoulders and he pulled me to his side. He held me a while before muttering a very genuine, “The pleasure was all mine.”

I took the crème br?lée and a spoon and tapped it on the top. Hearing the crust crackle was all it took for a blissful smile to grace my face and my nipples to pucker. I dug in and brought the spoon to my mouth.

The very moment the sweet, smooth custard hit my tongue, I moaned. “You’ve got to try this.”

I brought a spoonful to his lips, and without hesitation, he took it. His eyes shuttered and he groaned, “That’s what a crème br?lée is? Shit. I’ve been missing out.”

I gawked at him. “You’ve never had one?”

He shook his head, still enjoying the dessert. “No, but I get it now. Why you like ‘em so much.”

We talked for most of the night, feeding each other pieces of wickedly indulgent desserts and drinking Dutch bitter hot chocolate. It wasn’t sexy though. It was comfortable and friendly. I was surprised at how relaxed we were around each other. Quinn told me a little about himself. I found out his mother was not the nicest of women, but he wouldn’t tell me why. His father left before he was born, and when he got old enough to look him up, he found out he’d died.

I felt for him. And because of that, I told him a little about me too. How my father died from cancer when I was just a little girl, and how my brother is my best friend. He asked about my tattoo, and I decide to tell him the truth.

I started quietly, “I was very overweight at one point in my life. Like, fifty pounds overweight. And when you’re short like me, that fifty pounds is huge, you know?” I peeked over at him for any sign of disgust, but found none. “So I started to lose weight. I’d get up early and go running, workout five times a week, and eat healthily every day for two years, and here I was. A healthier version of me. I was proud of myself. But my stomach…it didn’t want to cooperate.” I shrugged.

“The stretch marks wouldn’t fade. They were red and angry-looking, and I’d worked so hard to get where I was, but there was still that one thing that was bothering me. So I went online to look at my options. I tried all these creams claiming they would fade them, but nothing worked.”

I popped a piece of red velvet cake into my mouth and moaned around it. “God, that’s good. Anyways, I found a tattoo artist who had done this sort of work before. When I told her what I wanted, she knew right away what I needed. So seven hours later and possibly the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life, I had a tattoo. And here’s the kicker,”—I shook my head and sighed—“those stretch marks? They faded.” I chuckled. “After all that, I got the tattoo for nothing.”