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Resting my forehead against Ophelia’s, I murmur, “One moment, please.”
I stand tall, still holding Ophelia against my side. “Excuse me,ma’am,but did you just say what I think you did?”
She sniffs, raising her chin in an arrogant I-am-better-than-you manner.
“Wow, way to be judgmental, lady. Although it is none of your business, this woman in my arms isno whore.She is not only beautiful on the surface but is soul-deep beautiful. She doesn’t judge people for being different. Can you say that about yourself?” The elevator doors glide open to our floor.
I step us both into the entryway, then hesitate when I once again hear the woman mutter to her husband something about us being low-lives, and I discover I indeed have more to say. With my arm still around Ophelia, I turn to face the couple. “Have you survived a traumatic experience but still give your time selflessly to others when they ask for your help? Have you recently lost your parents to a drunk driver? And because of that drunk driver, the ability to carry a child gets stolen from you. This woman employs mothers from a local school, takes in orphaned animals, has built herself a life after losing her family.
“If you are wondering about my credentials because of my clothing: I have fought for our country with four tours under my belt, and no, this is not my everyday attire, but again, not your business. I got accepted into The Julliard School but chose to fight for our country and keep you safe for personal reasons that are none of your damn business. Do not look down your nose and judge people for their cover because you don’t know someone’s struggles, bad luck, or the good they do for others who need kindness in their lives. Both our wallets are a lot heavier than you could fathom from looking at us—maybe even heavier than yours. You both have a wonderful evening.” And on that note, we step out of the way of the elevator door hand in hand so it can close.
I turn to Ophelia, who has tears welling in her eyes. Realization dawns that I spoke for her and told the elderly couple a very personal thing without her permission.
“Shit, babe, I am so sorry for overstepping—”
With a finger pressed against my lips, she whispers, “Ssh, it’s okay. Thank you for giving that old biddy a piece of your mind because you beat me to it. You went all caveman on me before I had a chance to open my mouth at her judgmental ruling. Just for the record, I think we look freakin’ awesome, but my non-existent womb is the white elephant in the room we will have to talk—”
I suck her finger into my mouth, watching the gleam of desire replace finishing off that sentence, then release it.
“I, for one, can’t wait to find our suite and get you behind closed doors. So let’s walk the hallway and get there.”
We make it to our numbered suite, and before I can get the keycard in the slot, Ophelia places her small hand over mine. “Tucker, is this happening? Are we …” Her words trail off because this is a big thing for her. It is everything she was running away from.
I draw her against me to make her feel safe, tipping her chin up so she will see the truth in my eyes. “We’ve already declared we love each other. Everything else that comes next is at your pace. I am down with that. We can talk about what worries you at dinner tonight because I want the woman first—no matter what—and I will gladly move mountains to clear the way for our happily-ever-after. I am your forever guy. I am just putting that out there. Hopefully, I am not making an ass of myself, but I feel safe declaring that I want to be your forever guy and not scaring you off in the process. There’s no more running; there’s only compromise and understanding.”
“Okay.” Yup, she’s got wet lashes.
“Well, okay, to you too.”
“Hoist me up,” she murmurs.
You don’t need to ask me twice.
“Tucker, can we please have sex, now?”
“Is that a trick question?”
It is a team effort opening the door to the double king Signature Suite at The US Grant Hotel. I carry her in, not paying any attention to the magnificent room, having only eyes and hands for each other.
“Shower sex,” Ophelia announces, wiggling her bubble butt against my hard-on, sucking my bottom lip between her teeth, sending a message to my cock to get on with it.
“Here’s the thing. I am all in with shower sex, but I am taking you out to a posh dinner somewhere for half eight on a date. All that phone texting I was doing in the Uber was for Trinny to organize what I wanted to get delivered here and book a restaurant. So this means we are on a tight timeline to get presentable to go out and christen as many rooms as we can beforehand.”
She removes my aviators, flinging them onto the couch. “Okay, so king bed sex and then shower sex.”
I pretend to think about her proposal. “How about vigorous wall sex to take the edge off. Then shower sex. Then oral sex on the bed. Due to time constraints, maybe a 69 because hell, that is on my sex wish list with you,” I counteroffer, adding, “then sex any which way you like after I have taken you out, for as long as you have the stamina. I have three condoms in my wallet, but a box is on the way unless you want to go bare. I am clean.”
“I am clean too.”
“Well, alrighty, it sounds like a date bookended with lots of condomless sex is a solid plan. Dinner is the time to openly and honestly communicate our future and any fears lurking because, as already stated, I will move mountains to be with you.”
“I’ll hike my dress up. You tear my panties off. I’ll undo your jeans, and you can wiggle your fine arse out of them once we find a wall.”
“You have a way with words.”
“I am feeling greedy.”
Music to my ears.
