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“No. I trust you.”
He slants a side-eye at me. “You don’t want to hazard a guess? Just a teensy little guess. One try.” He sighs. “I guess not. You don’t look like you want to play along.”
“No? How do I look?”
He gives me an up-and-down that could melt concrete. He drops his voice low, to that decadent murmur I so love, and growls, “You look like you want me to take you back on that plane and make you come a few more times.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, puck boy.” I slide my hands around his waist and cup his firm ass in both hands. He’s chuckling in my ear and my body crackles with life and anticipation.
Which is obviously when Spoilsport Spencer pulls up in a Secret Service-esque blacked-out Escalade.
I stick my tongue out at him. “Party pooper.”
Beck lightly pats me on the ass to scold me into behaving properly as he walks around to help me into the back of the car. He keeps his hand on my thigh as we drive from the private airstrip to our hotel downtown.
Chicago traffic is as bad as Seattle’s and since we flew in during prime travel time, apparently, we end up sitting in a line of abouta zillion cars. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like just being with Beck, no matter where we are or what we’re doing.
Spencer has the radio on low, but there’s a Chloë song out right now that everyone is going bananas for and I love it, too. When it plays low through the speakers, I reach for the controls on the back of the console and crank up the volume. Beside me, Beck chuckles.
He’s been hearing this song play on repeat at the house since it came out. When it ends, the DJ’s voice through the speakers announces, “That was for Sloan from Beck. Tonight, you’re going to see my girl Chloë live at Club Rees.”
I glance at Beck with my mouth hanging wide open. “Is that—did you just—was that directed at me?Is that my surprise?!”
He grins and nods like the cat that ate the canary. I throw my arms around his neck and press a hard kiss to his mouth. He holds me to him a second longer than necessary, a second long enough to lean his forehead against mine.
“You deserve it. You’ve been stressed, and you need some fun. Besides, Chloë owes me a favor.”
“What?! In the thousand or so times you’ve listened to her belt out that song in the last week, it never occurred to you to mention that youknowthis woman who is my hero?” I shake my head. “Let me just say again: what?”
He chuckles. “I met her a long time ago. She came to a game, sang the anthem, we had drinks after with some guys from the team.”
“I’m beyond jealous. That girl could sing the phonebook and I’d listen.”
He sighs melodramatically. “I remember when you used to say that about my voice.”
“Oh, shut up.” I dig in his ribs until he laughs and swats me away. “But this is a big deal. This is Chloe!”
He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Do you want to stay in tonight instead? Watch some overpriced hotel porn and reenact it ourselves?”
“Well, overpriced hotel porn is tempting,” I muse, tapping my lower lip with one finger. “But I think a once-in-a-lifetime concert with my all-time favorite singer is the bigger draw.”
He snaps in anaw-shuckskind of way as Spencer parks the car in front of the hotel. “Bummer. I’ll have to come up with a more compelling pitch next time.”
He hops out of the car on his side, then comes around before Spencer can and helps me down from mine. Even after both my feet are on the ground, though, he doesn’t let go of my hand.
Instead, he pins me to the side of the SUV with his hips and devours me with the hungriest kiss I can remember in a long time. I’m dizzy by the time he pulls away.
“No one means more to me than you do, Sloan. No one ever has.”
“Beck…” His name is about all I can manage right now. It’ll have to suffice.
He strokes my hip with his thumb before he finally breaks away and steps back. “Shall we?”
If he asked me to walk across hot coals beside him, I would be hard pressed to decline. He’s the kind of man who just makes agirl want to bemore, to do the things he asks simply because he’s asked them.
We walk inside and he checks us in at the front desk. “And does Mrs. Daniels need a key, also?” the concierge inquires.
Oh.Mrs. Daniels.That’s certainly… something. I’m trying that on for size over and over in my head.
