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“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Take me to your room.”
My breath hitches. She takes a deep breath before she repeats herself.
“I want to go to your room with you.”
Any other man in the city of sin wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer, but after what happened earlier, I can’t help it. One touch and she bolted away from me.
“I’m not sure that is a good idea.”
She shifts, pivoting toward me. Her arms wrap around my stomach as she peers up at me from under her lashes. “I let things get in my head earlier. Things that don’t matter anymore. I want to feel again. I want to know what it’s like to be with someone who makes me feel safe.”
I stare down into Charlotte’s eyes, her vulnerability shining through. A thousand thoughts race through my mind, battling against logic and desire. My heart aches for her, yearning to be that person who makes her feel safe. But the scars of her past are still fresh, and I can’t ignore the warning signs.
“Charlotte,” I say softly, my voice filled with caution and concern. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’ve been through so much, and I don’t want to be just another man who disappoints or hurts you.”
She leans into me, nestling her head against my chest. “I understand your hesitation,” she whispers. “But sometimes, taking a leap of faith is the only way to heal. I want you to be that leap of faith.”
Her words send a wave of warmth through me, melting away my reservations. We’ve both faced our fears today—hers by facing her past and mine by conquering heights.
A moment of silence passes between us as we stand outside the hotel entrance, the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas fading into the background. With each passing second, our connection grows stronger, fueled by an undeniable chemistry that defies all reason.
Finally, I break the silence. “Let’s go to my room,” I say softly, entwining my fingers with hers.
With a smile that lights up her face, Charlotte squeezes my hand, and we head toward the elevator. The ride to my room feels like an eternity, filled with anticipation and nervous excitement. As the elevator doors open, we step into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of our footsteps echoing through the quiet hallway.
I slide the keycard into the slot, unlocking the door to my room. The moment we step inside, a surge of electricity courses through the air. The room is bathed in a soft glow from the city lights filtering through the curtains, casting a romantic ambience.
Charlotte’s eyes roam around the room, taking in every detail. Her gaze eventually lands on the king-size bed with crisp white sheets, beckoning us to surrender to our desires. She turns to face me, her eyes filled with longing.
Without uttering a word, she steps forward, presses up on her tiptoes, and her lips crash into mine. The force of her movements shifts my weight enough that it pushes me onto my heels. I start to draw my hands to her face, but I hesitate.
She notices, pulling away from me. “It’s okay,” she reassures me.
“I need guidelines, sweetheart. I want to touch you, but I don’t know where.”
She considers the question before she answers. “No hands on my neck.”
“Anything else?”
“Biting, and uh, nails.”
The thought of why she’d mention those sends a pang of rage deep into my belly. I shake off the thoughts of murdering this asshole and instead choose to focus on her. Making her feel good and understand that a man can bring her pleasure and not pain is more important.
“You need to pick a safe word,” I speak firmly, my voice carrying a tone of importance. This is a crucial conversation—one I have never had to have in previous relationships but now feel it is necessary with her.
“What’s that?” she asks with genuine curiosity.
I take a deep breath and do my best to explain the concept. “It’s a way to establish clear boundaries and ensure consent between us. If you feel uncomfortable at any point or want to stop, all you have to do is say the safe word, and everything will come to a halt.”
Her expression softens with understanding as she nods, her lips forming the shape of the safe word. “Zip-line.”
“Of course, that’s what you’d pick. Zip-line it is.”
We both share a chuckle, lightening the mood and relieving some of the tension that has built up. It feels good to have this open conversation, to establish trust and boundaries before delving into something more intimate.
As we stand facing each other, the air between us is charged with anticipation. I reach out and gently trace my fingertips along Charlotte’s cheekbone. Her skin is soft beneath my touch, and she leans into it, her eyes fluttering closed. She leans into my touch, her body relaxing under it.
