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Mrs. Danielswould like a key.
Mrs. Danielswould like room service.
Mrs. Danielswould love some alone time with Mr. Daniels so thatMrs. Danielscan ride Mr. Daniels until her toes curl and her eyes roll back in her head.
I’m halfway through imagining that overpriced hotel porn scenario in my head when I look up and see a weird cloud passing over Beck’s eyes. It’s gone as soon as I see it, so maybe I made it up. He passes me the key card without a word.
MaybeMrs. Danielsfreaked him out. Maybe hearing it in that tone is hisholy shitmoment, the one that precipitates a slow, ghosting retreat.
I don’t want that. But for a couple seconds, I want to bask in this before the magic wears off, and he tells the check-in clerk that there is no Mrs. Daniels.
But to my surprise, he doesn’t. The cloud doesn’t reappear. He takes my hand in his and we walk away from the counter, hand in hand to the elevator.
As we ride up to the room, it’s almost impossible to contain my excitement. Partly because I can’t believe I’m going to see Chloë with Beck, but because he must’ve paid attention to all thosetimes I cranked the volume of her songs and danced around the kitchen while I cooked.
It’s so nice to be seen. Heard. Noticed. Loved. Worshiped. Held. Protected.
He gives me everything.
How did I get so lucky?
I don’t want to read too much into it. Well, on one hand, anyway. On the other hand, I want to believe that he is taking my needs and my desires to heart and caring for them the way he would for someone he really cares about. Not that I doubt that he really cares about me; he shows it in a thousand different ways every day.
I just wonder if he’s realized the depths of his caring.
If I’m making more of our relationship or his feelings than actually exists, I’ll suffer through the heartache later. What a heartache it will be—but right now, I’m going to live in the moment. Let the future take care of itself.
We’re together and that’s enough.
43
SLOAN
The room is fabulous.
“Suite” is a better word. “Kingdom” would work, too. It’s got a sitting area with a small bar in the corner of the room and an elevated platform on which a California king bed sits adorned with pillows and blankets as fluffy and white as storybook sheep. There is a set of glass double doors next to the bed that leads to a grand balcony overlooking Chicago. We’re directly across the street from the arena where Beck will be playing tomorrow and the lights of the whole city are spread out below us.
“You guys always stay in rooms like this?”
He shakes his head and pulls me against him. “Nope.”
“You did this for me?”
Sighing, he pulls me into his embrace, so close the heat of his breath warms my skin, and says, “Angel, don’t you get it? Everything I do these days is for you.”
I pull him down for a soft kiss with just a flickering of tongues. When the kiss ends, he rubs his nose against mine.
“As much as I would love to stay right here with you, kissing and touching and seeing where that might lead…” He swipes a finger down across my jaw. “We have to get ready if you want to go see Chloë.”
It’s tempting to just say to hell with the concert and stay in with him, but he was thoughtful enough to get the tickets for us and I want to show him how much I appreciate it. Plus, we’re still going to get laid when we get back after the concert.
So with a long exhale, I go to the walk-in closet to get dressed. The only dress I bought is black and form-fitting, with long sleeves and an open back. The neckline is trimmed in silver that glitters and I have a pair of what Beck calls “fuck me pumps” to wear with it.
The very least I can do is look like I’m trying.
Beck comes sauntering in a moment later with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He and I have gotten dressed—and undressed—together plenty of times, but there’s something about the way he does it when he’s relaxed that enhances every tilt of his head as he combs his hair, every expansion and contraction of his muscles before he puts a shirt on.
By the time we’re both dressed and ready, desire is pooled in my belly, my knees are weak, and I want to taste him.
