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“A lot of skin,” I comment, just the thought of it making my cock twitch in my pants.
“The design doesn’t allow me to wear a bra,” she whispers conspiratorially, coaxing a low groan from me. She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “You’re such a perv.”
“Can you blame me?” I counter, raising my brow in challenge. “When was the last time you’ve taken a proper look at yourself?”
Helia lowers her head but not before I catch a slight flush spreading across her cheeks. A blonde strand falls forward, covering her face from view. With the hand that’s not holding hers, I tuck the loose curl behind her ear. She inhales sharply as the tips of my fingers graze her skin.
She’s more affected than she’d like us to believe, my wolf observes with his keen senses.
“I might be too excited to play your boyfriend this weekend,” I admit, confessing something personal to gauge her reaction.
“I think this is the first event that I’m actually looking forward to,” she replies, not actually acknowledging my confession, but also not entirely dismissing it.
It’s a start, my wolf comments, and I agree.
I lift my eyes over her shoulder to the window, taking in the approaching ground. The buildings get shape, the cars become bigger, and the lights don’t blur into one anymore. One more minute and we’re officially in San Francisco.
As soon as the captain gives the all-clear, Helia lets go of my hand. I immediately note her absence, wanting to touch her again.
Aren’t you supposed to be her boyfriend? my wolf asks with an exasperated sigh. Go for it. You can literally do almost anything, and she’ll have to go along with it.
Taking his advice, I reach over and take her hand from her lap. Helia glances my way and gives me a small smile. She doesn’t pull away but instead intertwines her fingers with mine. Hand in hand, we get up from our seats and exit the plane. I nod at the crew, giving them the only acknowledgment I dare without risking them exposing me to Helia and her friends.
Thanks to the private landing strip, the security isn’t as tight as the public part of the airport. We slip past the controls without a hitch and to the taxi that’s waiting for us outside, courtesy of The Ritz-Carlton. I might have given them a call to make sure that everything goes smoothly. I also had our room upgraded and slightly personalized, but that’s the bridge that Helia and I will cross once we get there.
Once again, I’m forced to sit in the front with the driver. This time, I don’t mind so much, mostly thanks to the knowledge that I’ll have Helia all to myself in a matter of minutes. The other two can get lost for all I care.
If you want to get into Helia’s pants, you should be nicer to her friends, my wolf comments.
Spare me the relationship advice, I tell him. I want to sleep with her, not spend the rest of my life by her side.
The Ritz-Carlton has a doorman waiting for us. While the girls are impressed, this is a daily occurrence to me. To avoid looking like an ass, I make sure to slip an extra tip both to the driver as well as the doorman who’s hauling our luggage.
“Ready?” I ask the girls, offering my arm to Helia. She hooks hers through it and nods, her eyes shining with barely concealed excitement. I lean closer to whisper, “First time?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “My parents always took my sister to all the events.”
She has a sister, I tell my wolf, taking notes.
“Why not both of you?” I ask, and if I hadn’t watched her carefully, I would’ve missed the moment her expression changes as she firmly lifts her guard.
“She had more interest in the family affairs,” she replies with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was content to be left at home with all the books that I haven’t had the chance to read yet.”
“A bookworm,” I muse, and then lean down to kiss her temple. With that, I end the conversation that she didn’t want to have in the first place. “We better go, or we’ll be late for the gala.”
Jessica and Melissa have already signed in at the reception desk when we approach them. I leave Helia with them to collect our own keys.
“Grayden Gray,” I say low enough not to be overheard by anyone else.
When I called them earlier, I made it clear how important discretion was to me and asked them to call me by my first name. It’d be unfortunate to catch the attention of a passing royal while being with humans.
“Just a moment, please,” the young receptionist says, her attention on the computer as she types away, entering my information.
I lean sideways to get a view of the modern lobby with white ambient lighting. As I gently tap my fingers against the marble counter, I observe several groups of people chatting away. Thanks to my heightened senses, I’m able to hear their every word, but as soon as I catch some medical terms, I stop listening.
“Here we go, sir,” the receptionist says, looking up at me. She tucks a strand of her curly dark hair behind her ear, her lips lifting up in a polite smile as she hands me two keycards. “The Presidential Suite is ready for you. Mr. Jones over there will escort you.”
“There’s no need, thanks,” I reply, giving both of them a nod. But before I leave, I want to confirm another thing. “Were you able to do what I asked?”
