A rueful glance down at his straining erection told him that if it was an attempt, it was wholly successful so far. He reluctantly acknowledged that the thought of a half-naked Camile in one of those huge beds was more than enough to make his d**k stand up and go “Yes, please.” There he stood—making an incongruous picture—with an armload of decadently Camile-scented clothes, rampant and ready for her. He glimpsed a tiny sock discarded outside the middle door and followed it blindly, knowing that Camile was probably behind that door.
Naked and as primed for him as he was for her.
Hopefully.
He tossed her clothes aside and stumbled toward the door, opening it without knocking and without further thought. The sight that met his eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. She lay in the middle of
