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Her eyes move to me. “I didn’t see a post yet.” There’s worry there, and I know this is a big opportunity. A charity for sick kids. I mean, come on. How could they hate him for participating in this?
But it didn’t feel right. I thought about taking the picture, then making a post, but something holds me back.
And that something is Royal. No matter how silent he’s being on the subject and us being fully clothed. Something about this night seems sacred.
“I will,” I assure her, but that might very well be a lie. “Just wanted to get the feel of it first.”
She nods in approval. “I’ll let you work your magic then.” She winks at me and seems to be in a really good mood. I can’t say it’s not totally surprising. Although my cousin, Waylon, assured me Jenny is one of the good ones, I still haven’t seen a thoroughly happy side of her yet.
We’re approached quickly by Sebastian and Axel, who are both well-dressed for the event, as well as Cash and Leslie. They’re all buzzing with excitement about the night.
Cash seems pleased by the turnout, and he should be because this place is packed full of rich people ready to write a check. There are posters with pictures of children who’ve received help from this hospital—all success stories.
But it’s done tactfully, and it gives me hope for a future with no sick kids. Where they all get to leave the hospital and go home to a life with grateful parents.
Still, I know that’s not always the case.
I can’t keep my eyes off Royal as he mingles with fellow racers, some rock stars, and other professional athletes. But I also can’t rid myself of the feeling that something is off.
I’m ready to get him to leave for the evening when he surprises me by taking my hand and pulling me out of the ballroom but not out of the hotel. He releases my hand quickly, but it could still be risky.
Anyone could have seen the move.
He doesn’t seem to care as he starts toward the elevator. I’m sure he wants me to follow him, so I do. I keep up his quick pace, and it’s not until the elevators close with only us inside that he wraps his arms around me and kisses my lips hard.
I want to keep kissing him. I do. But again, it feels... not wrong... but off. Something isn’t right.
“Wait.” I push against his chest gently and pull back to look into his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he says too quickly, and when the elevator doors open, he grabs my hand again and pulls me toward a room. He has a key card I now see, and before I know it, we’re inside a suite, and his lips are back on mine.
He doesn’t want to talk. Everything inside me screams that we should, but damn it, I can’t think with his lips on mine, his tongue seeking entrance into my mouth.
“Royal,” I gasp as we come up for air, but he’s going for the button on my pants, undoing them quickly.Oh, God. His hands. I love his strong, capable hands. He’s pushing my pants down and starts to lower to his knees, but I finally gain my wits and grab his arms, stopping him. “Royal,” I say firmly this time.
He looks at me, and for what feels like the first time all night, he’s truly looking at me. Not through me. He’s here with me in this moment.
“What’s going on?”
He swallows hard, but gives a firm shake of his head. “Nothing.”
“Please don’t lie to me,” I say, my voice coming out shaky and not nearly as strong as I want it to be. But fear courses through me. Worry like I’ve never felt before. I need him to talk to me.
His gaze softens, and he brings one hand to my cheek. “I can’t...” He shakes his head with a huff. “I don’t want to be here.”
“At the hotel?” I ask dumbly.
He nods. “The event. This fucking event. Every goddamn year. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to be part of it, and I know that makes me an asshole. I know it does. But I...”
“Hey,” I say as I wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. “It’s okay. It doesn’t. I...”—don’t really know how to finish that sentence either, but I try. “We should go. We can go,” I say with a little more certainty.
He pulls back out of my embrace enough to look into my eyes. “I have an obligation to be here. I have to go back down there, and God, I don’t know how, Soren. I thought maybe...”—he looks down between us, then back up at my face—“maybe a little escape would help.”
He seems to be doubting his plan now, and while I don’t understand what has him so afraid of being downstairs, I don’t think this will help. “We should go. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
He laughs humorlessly at that and shakes his head. “I owe so many people what feels like my entire life. Everything. Racing used to be fun.”
“Used to be?” I ask carefully.
