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“Yeah.” I could pull out the sofa bed, but I didn’t mention that while I placed our bags on the bench at the end of the mattress.
Her lips parted as she turned to me. “This is really happening?”
My arms draped loosely around her waist while my head tipped toward her. I knew she wasn’t talking about being in Chicago and this five-star hotel. She meant sex.
“Only if that’s what you want. I don’t assume that when you agreed to my invitation you agreed to more. So what do you say, Princess? Should we get ready and head out to eat then register for the con?”
“Okay, Han. Let’s do it.”
* * * *
Call me a caveman, but I wanted to throw Reba over my shoulder and carry her back to the hotel. We’d decided to just catch food at the conference center then headed into separate bathrooms to get ready. I’d purchased her costume, Leia from the opening of Return of the Jedi, but clearly, I hadn’t thought things through beyond me wanting to see her in the costume.
Fuck, she was hot and it showed too much skin. Along with the skimpy costume, she wore a wig with a long thick braid that draped over her shoulder and lay between her generous breasts. Her makeup was on point, too.
“One of my hobbies is following YouTube makeup tutorials.” She’d shrugged. “I played around with makeup last night after I saw the costumes.”
She was amazing and far too many appreciative male eyes were on her as we walked through the convention hall. If the blaster strapped to my thigh was real, they’d all be as dead as Greedo in the original Star Wars.
That was a new feeling for me.
I drew Reba closer to my side. “Are you ready to pose?”
“Uh…” Her hand splayed over her very bare belly, her bottoms starting well below her cute little navel. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I’m not really sure how to pose.”
We were headed to the cosplay red carpet, where photographers would shoot pictures of us. It was lowkey and all in fun. Then we’d be heading over to one of the meet and greet events where actual stars from the franchise were doing a Q&A and signing photos.
Her chilly hand trembled as we walked out onto the carpet.
“Han and Leia, stand back to back and do a Charlie’s Angels pose,” someone called. Reba’s brow furrowed until she saw the person miming the hands together in the gun pose that was so iconic.
Flashes went off as soon as we were back to back. I looked over my shoulder at her while the photos continued. I heard a swoony sigh from somewhere when she looked up at me.
“Okay, next, Han… I need you to look all buff and ready to take on the world. Feet apart, chest out, hand on your weapon. Leia, you’re down and clinging to his leg.”
We got into the cheesy pulp fiction cover pose. While Reba took her position, she arched her back, pushing her chest into me while she looked up at me. One hand rested just above my knee. I jerked when the other slid up to the bottom of my ass.
“Good, good, now—”
“I got this,” I interrupted. The flashes from the camera were still going as I yanked Reba to her feet. We stood chest to chest, our sides to the camera while I cupped her face and kissed her.
The tip of my tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened with a groan, arching into me, her hands on my chest. I claimed her mouth for all those assholes to see, but they ceased to matter. This was me and Reba, my woman, out in the open and loving each other.
I groaned, deepening the kiss, and Reba’s nails scraped my chest as she clenched her hands into my shirt.
“Okay, guys…I think it might be time for you to get a room,” the photographer joked.
Reba giggled, pulling back and looking up at me. “Conveniently, we have a room,” she said.
“Thank God for that.” I turned to the photographer. “Copies of everything.”
“Everything?” he repeated, stunned. No doubt he was used to people picking out one shot and discarding the rest.
“Everything,” I repeated. I wanted to remember every moment with Reba this weekend.
