I took that as a yes.
“Little bit,” he answered when he managed to get his laughter under control. I didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever.
“Such a male.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“It’s funny.”
“Xavier is staring at your ass.”
Ah. “That explains why your hand is slowly slipping down to my ass.”
“Oh, you noticed. Good.” He quit the crap and cupped my ass cheek firmly. Then, right as the song came to an end, he pulled me right into him and pressed his lips against mine.
The surprise of it sent shockwaves through me, and I found myself leaning into it before it fully registered that he was kissing me.
It warmed me right down to the pit of my tummy.
And further.
That had to be the wine...
“What was that?” I asked when he pulled back.
He met my gaze and grinned. “That was me making a point.”
“What point was that exactly?”
“You’re mine. How many times do I have to say it?”
I shrugged. “Until I get sick of it.”
He shook his head and laughed. “All right. You win. Are you ready to go?”
I nodded. “Let me get my purse.”
I extracted myself from his grip and grabbed it from the table. He was right behind me, and he took my hand as he waved goodbye to Aunt Bel and asked her to tell his parents where we were going. I thought we should probably say goodbye to Sali, but on the way out, I caught sight of her beaming face in the center of a conversation.
Anonymity didn’t seem to be working too well for her. Unless she was a cousin who’d come to town or something. Who knew?
Brett and I didn’t speak as we navigated the hallways of Walker Hotel. It was quite nice actually, the silence. It wasn’t something we had often. It was either fighting, teasing, or kissing.
That balance worked for me—and for us.
Brett pulled a keycard from his pocket and pressed the button on the elevator. The doors pinged open immediately, proving that he had some form of elevator magic because that never happened, and we stepped inside. He never released my hand as he hit the button for the top floor and scanned the key.
I looked at him. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the wine, because in this moment, surrounded by mirrors, I was struck by how utterly imperfect he was—but in the best possible way.
A strange thought to have, I know, but I had it all the same.
After all, everybody who looked at him saw this wildly perfect-looking guy. They saw blue-gray eyes and thick eyelashes and a sharp jaw and perfect lips.
They didn’t see the tiny scar on his nose, barely visible thanks to the crease. They didn’t see the mole on his eyelid, covered mostly by his eyelashes. And they didn’t see that his left eye was just a hint more silver than his right one was.
Or that despite all the words he spoke, his eyes said far more than his mouth ever did, if only you listened hard enough.
“You’re staring at me. That’s a new one,” he said, peering sideways at me.
He wasn’t wrong.
I laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth, letting my lips linger close to his for a moment longer than I really needed to.
Thankfully, the elevator doors opened before he could say anything. We both stepped outside, and almost as soon as he let us into the same suite I’d found him in earlier, I leaned against the wall and pulled off my shoes.
“Uuuurrrnnnnn,” I groaned, flexing my toes.
Oh my god.
Nothing felt as good as pulling off high heels. Except taking off your bra, but as I wasn’t wearing one, it was a moot point.
Brett eyed me. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Ahhhh.” I dropped my shoes and looked down at my wriggling, free toes. “It feels so good. Better than sex.”
“We’ll see if you’re still saying that in two hours.” He smirked and went over to the minibar. “Drink?”
What the hell. “Sure. What’s in there?”
“Uhh...” He bent over and damn, those pants looked really good on his butt. “Are you staring at my ass?”
“Stop stealing my lines,” I grumbled, hiking up my dress. It dragged on the floor now I was no longer wearing my own four-inch torture devices, and if I didn’t, I was going to end up face-down, ass-up, and Brett was for sure going to get ideas.
Ideas that would be awkward in a dress this tight...and totally unsexy with my sanitary pad undies stuck to my lady bits.
Come on. I’d rather be unsexy than commando. And if anyone thinks commando is sexier, they’ve obviously never had a vagina. That shit is gross.
“There’s wine,” Brett said, kneeling down in front of the fridge.
“What kind?”
“White.”
“What kind of white?”
“Jesus, look yourself.”
I looked at the floor then at my dress. “No. If I get down there, I won’t get back up in this dress.”
He sighed and put all the bottles out on top of the bar. “Here.”
I peered across all the labels and selected the one I wanted. “That one.” I stepped back. “Where are we sitting?”
“Do you want to go outside?”
“Do you want to have this conversation outside?”
“Hmm. No. Not really...unless there’s nobody around.”
I crossed the suite to the doors and opened the right one. The floor of the balcony was a nice warm temperature against the soles of my feet, and yes, I felt like a complete tool peering around and down at all the balconies. They were all empty. At least the ones closest to us were.
If I couldn’t hear the two guys talking six balconies over and three down, they couldn’t hear me.
“We can sit here if you want to.”
Brett poured the wine and a whiskey for him. He glanced over at the doors several times before he finally nodded and brought the drinks over. He set them on the table on the balcony in front of the sofa and shrugged off his jacket.
I sat down, wishing I had the freedom to undress like he did.
Oh. I did. I could pull off the tit tape!
Hallelujah!
My eye twitched like crazy as I got stuck in to the arduous process of removing the tape from my skin. Why did it leave fabric so much easier? It burned my boobs as I tugged at it, stinging almost worse, and I could swear my skin was screaming at me for being such a bitch.
“What are you doing?” Brett didn’t bother to hide his amusement in his voice.
“Killing myself, apparently. Ouch!” I pulled the last bit of the tape off like you’d pull off a Band-Aid and dropped it onto the table. “Wait. Hold on.” I got up and darted back inside. When I was there, I bent over and rolled my dress up my legs. I needed to get rid of this awkward panty-liner-sanitary-pad thing. While the lack of a seam—or fabric—was a lifesaver in this dress, I was so uncomfortable.
I yelped as I pulled it off. Then I threw it right where it belonged. In the trashcan.
As I walked back out onto the balcony, dress back in place, Brett laughed and leaned right back. While I’d been pulling what was apparently an extra layer of skin from myself, he had pulled off his shoes and socks and undone all the buttons of his shirt. And taken off his belt.