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Wow.
That is the only word that enters my head when invigorating salty air hits my lungs while my wide eyes drink in the view. I’ve never seen Ravenshoe from this vantage point, but it isn’t solely the art-inspiring visual stretching from Bronte’s Peak to Hopeton gaining my attention. The clawfoot tub and open shower to the side of a Zen-like bedroom also have my heart stuttering.
Isaac didn’t design solely a quick entry point to the presidential suite. He brought its glam to the rooftop. The airy outside “room” just left of a helipad has a king-size bed canopied by a bulky wooden frame and breezy mosquito netting. A sexy yet stiff-looking sectional sofa hogs the outer wall of the hotel, and a gas-lit fireplace next to a fur rug reminds me of the glamping trip my parents took for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
It is spectacular…though not as stunning as that.
A rigid, muscular back and tall, athletic frame showcase a backside that doesn't need to be paraded naked to ooze desirability. The sight gives my eyes the workout of their life.
I’m so mesmerized by the view I trip over the bedding huddled at my feet, more falling into the rooftop “room” instead of graciously entering it with the sophistication its high-end design deserves.
The clap of the emergency exit stairwell door slamming shut behind me announces my arrival. It breaks through the sound barrier at the speed of light and sees the man I was admiring spinning to face me.
My heart thuds in my ears when not even the hint of ginger in his beard highlighted by the moon’s rays can conceal the familiarity of his features. I only drank them in for mere minutes, but they’ve held my thoughts captive for the past thirty.
After hooking his lips to the side, Laken drags his eyes down my body. His slow, heated gawk has me forgetting I’m wearing a slip of satin as a dress until his stare puckers my nipples into firm buds.
My breasts become heavy with need as a slickness dampens between my legs, but try as I may, I can’t cover up. I like the way he looks at me. It stirs something profound inside me and makes me feel as wild and carefree as the laugh that rips from my lips when he locks his eyes with mine and asks, “Are you stalking me?”
When a snort joins my laughter, I clamp my mouth shut with my hand before replying through the cracks of my fingers. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” I encroach a little more, my footing not as graceful as I’m hoping when the mangled bedding makes itself a nuisance for the second time in the past minute. “Are you alone? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
After narrowing my eyes at him in suspicion, I sweep them right and left. I know he’s alone. I scanned every inch of the rooftop penthouse. I’m simply teasing him as rigorously as the delicious rumble of his voice teases me when he asks, “What could you possibly be interrupting?”
A playful twinkle in his eyes douses the nerves bubbling in my stomach. Not a lot, but enough for me to say with a serious expression, “I thought perhaps you’d brought your…dateup here. A starry night can be a great opener.” I wave my hand at the massive bed to my right. “Let alone a four-poster bed.”
“Date?” Laken asks, his brow arched like his jaw didn’t spasm when he followed my hand’s veer to the romp-inspired furniture. “I don’t see anyone here but you, Nicole.” I envy his teeth when they’re dragged across his lower lip. “So I guess I should ask if it’s working?” Confusion barely crosses my face for half a second before he aims to end it. “The starry sky? You said it could be a great opener for a date.”
He doesn’t bring up the bed. He doesn’t need to. His devilish grin announces how wickedly deviant his thoughts are.
I look at nothing but his playful grin while answering, “This isn’t a date, so my opinion doesn’t matter.”
“It could,” Laken replies, his smile widening. “If you stopped seeking the prostitutes you’re forever expecting to be glued to my hip.”
“It isn’t your hip I’m imagining them glued to.”
Eyes wide, I slap my hand over my mouth for the second time.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
While laughing like he finds my bitchy side endearing, Laken darts past the leather sofa and sidesteps the fireplace before he removes my bedding and songbook from my hands, places them on the edge of the bed, then slowly inches me toward the railing he was leaning against when I arrived.
His unhurried pace, constant eye contact, and non-sweaty grip are the only things stopping me from fleeing.
Don’t look at me like that. I said rooftops are great for creativity.
I never said anything about them curing my fear of heights.
“Wow,” I murmur, purposely out loud this time.
Since this hotel is the tallest building in Ravenshoe, the view is even more spectacular from the vantage point on its roof.
“You can—” we say at the same time.
“You go,” I offer.
Laken shakes his head, which sends the dark spikes on top bouncing side to side. “That wouldn’t be verydate-ish of me.”
“There you go with that word again,” I say with a huff, my annoyance faked.
