After a few paces through the crowded lobby, he tucks me into his side, and my stomach erupts into a stampede of flurries. A taste of what could be—one that has me parched for more. Patience is harder to come by than it used to be. I’ve waited seven years for this man, but the thought of seven more minutes without his lips on mine feels cruel.
He ensures we load the elevator alone but maintains his silent, broody demeanor.
So, seconds before it deposits us on my floor, I strike a flirty, troublemaking-angel pose and bat my lashes. “You know, there are other methods of taming a brat—”
“Rena,” he growls.
Fuck, I love the way he says my name. I’ll gladly exasperate him any chance I get.
As the doors ding, I giggle and saunter toward my room, a corner unit at the end of a long hallway.
Once inside, he glances around and chuckles. “You’re kind of a slob, huh?”
There’s a handful of garments tossed on the wingback chair, a few on the unmade bed, and my makeup is scattered across the dresser. I shopped and filled a suitcase full of new outfits upon arrival here. Trying everything on was a must.Slobis a bit slanderous in my opinion.
“I won’t deny that I’m a tad messy. And I didn’t want housekeeping in here.”
“Good,” he commends me, his tone far more serious as he sets his stuff neatly in the corner. “Never give anyone permission to be in your room. When you’re hiding out like this, you shouldn’t leave anything behind either. One bag that stays with you, on your person, at all times.”
I throw the key card on the round dining table in the corner and begin unlacing my boots. “That would’ve made strumming guitar challenging, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Tossing one of the boots aside, I move to the other. “I didn’t expect anyoneplatonicto be joining me, so there’s only one bed.”
The room is beautiful and not lacking in amenities, but suited more for a couple than whatever the hell we are. In my defense, I flippantly decided to summon Ty to me last night, days after I chose where to stay. But, yes, I knew precisely what I was doing by throwing the wordplatonicin there.
“I noticed.” No emotion carries those words, so I’m not sure how he feels about it, but he doesn’t dwell there. “Why don’t you get a shower, and I’ll order us some food?”
“Sounds good.” I pluck some nightclothes from my suitcase and scurry to the bathroom. I’m in desperate need of freshening up, and maybe some time alone will help Ty settle in.
It takes me a while because I wash and dry my hair, and as I’m finishing up, it occurs to me that my pajamas might be too skimpy for a one-bed, nonsexual night of sleep. As much as I want to accelerate whatever this is between us, I’d like him to be comfortable with me. They aren’t horrible, I guess. A fitted, ribbed tank, which isn’t shy about flaunting my nipple piercings, and tiny silk shorts. In no other situation would I fret about this, but my former sassy confidence is instantly eclipsed by nerves.
That anxiety worsens when my hand slips on to the knob to open the door.What if he left?What if I pushed too much, and he freaked out and took off?He wouldn’t do that. No way.
It is quiet when I muster the strength to amble out, but he didn’t vanish.
He’s at the dining table with his back to me but peers over his shoulder before I say a word. “Hey. Come eat. The food just got here.”
I suck in a deep breath and casually stroll to the table, the Bellagio fountains lit and dancing in full view from the open balcony doors. But he diminishes any laid-back notions I had when he rises to meet me, pausing for the briefest of milliseconds to covertly survey every inch of my body. His chest heaves with what reads as blatant desire before he glides his hand across the small of my back and pulls out my chair.
Plopping down into the seat, I make a valiant yet poor effort to mask the full-body shiver that trickles over me from the slight touch. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He slides a disposable plate toward me and manages one more perusal of my frame—barely discernible—as he sits, his chair facing mine.“All your piercings are back.”
My fingertips brush over the various stones and hoops littering my ears to confirm what I obviously know while also convincing myself that he was referring to those and not the lower ones, even though I watched his eyes trail to them. “Yeah. I replaced them when I got here. Except my facial chain. I bought one, but couldn’t wear it with the mask.”
Nodding, he sets two wrapped tacos on the plate, along with some chips and guacamole and a California roll.
My heart thumps in my chest, but I try to squelch the leap it’s intent on making. “You ordered sushi and tacos. That’s a weird combination, Reynolds.”
The corner of his mouth hitches upward, as though he’s privy to a high-clearance secret. “It’s your favorite.”
Any war I was battling to contain my swelling heart is lost with those words. Unless he’s here to make me his forever, he came to decimate me. I don’t think there’s an in-between. No middle ground.
Gulping back my urge to throw my arms around him, I try to gather a morsel of composure. “It is. How do you know that?”
He cocks his head, like my question is absurd. “I’ve been around you for years. I pay attention.”
“Makes sense,” I mutter, tearing open a soy sauce packet to douse the roll. As I glance at the wingback chair and the now-made bed, I notice neither has clothes strewn on them. “Did you clean up? I would’ve straightened my things. You shouldn’t have done that.”
How mortifying.
