Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
DALTON
It took less than two hours to get to the Denver airport, barely enough time to tease Ivey back to the uncomfortable level of arousal I liked him at the most. His teeth were practically chattering with want as I loaded him into the back of a rented town car, and his hands were shaking by the time we got to our first hotel. This had always been the plan. A late flight to Colorado, a quick overnight in Denver, then we’d head to the remote mountain town of Cherry Creek for two more nights of alone time before returning to LA.
The hotel in Denver was standard, but nice, and we were up by late morning, ready to head for Cherry Creek. We were on the edge of a west Denver suburb when a sign on the side of the road caught my attention.
“Can you pull over?” I asked, leaning forward to make sure the driver heard my request. I pointed toward the sign then fell back next to Ivey, our shoulders knocking together.
“I thought we were getting lunch and then you were sweeping me away to a remote mountain lodge for the weekend,” he said.
“I had a bad idea,” I said, giving him a wide smile. “You seem to bring that out in me.”
Ivey huffed. “Marrying me was hardly a bad idea.”
“You’re far from wrong, but come on.” I pressed a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth and grabbed his hand. I told the driver we would hopefully be quick and then I pulled Ivey out of the car.
There were three businesses in the building, and the whole side of the street was flanked with gorgeous and leafy trees. The mountains we were on our way toward rose up from behind the building, as breathtaking a sight as my husband’s fingers tangled through mine.
“Dalton,” he warned.
“Who’s in charge here?” I asked, pulling him toward the door and slipping my arm around his waist. Ivey’s blue eyes were bright as he smiled back at me, the song and dance of our relationship never getting old.
“You.”
“And you don’t even know what I want to do.”
He glanced up at the sign over the door.
Montgomery Ink Legacy.
“I would wager you’re about to get one or both of us tattooed,” he murmured against my mouth.
“Just me,” I promised. “Unless you want one too.”
He sighed, resigned.
The tattoo studio was large and clean, and there was a man behind the counter who was as tall as me, but twice as broad, and that was saying something. He had a long beard and dark hair, peppered silver around the temples. When Ivey and I walked in, he looked up and smiled at us.
“Hey, guys. Welcome. Did you have an appointment?” he asked.
“I don’t,” I said, smirking at Ivey. “We were on the way to Cherry Creek and I had a bit of a bad idea.”
The man laughed. “Tattoos are never a bad idea, but it’s not my shop and I’m not sure Leif has time for a walk-in. Let me check.”
“Something small,” I said, as the man nodded and turned.
He went into the back and appeared less than a minute later with a man who looked nearly identical to him, just younger.
“This is Leif,” the man said. “He’s the guy you need to see.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The two of them exchanged some more words, then the older one said goodbye to all three of us and headed to the parking lot.
“I hear you’re looking to get some work done today?” Leif asked me.
“It’s our anniversary,” I said, loving the way Ivey swayed into me. “Just wanted to get the Roman numerals for four on my ring finger.”
“Dalton,” Ivey murmured, squeezing my hand.
“Fourth anniversary?” Leif asked with a gorgeous smile that would have made lesser men weak in the knees. Men who didn’t have a husband as perfectly pliant and dreamy as mine.
“First,” I said. “Or sixteenth-adjacent, depending on how you count it. He’s the fourth.”
Leif stroked a hand over his beard, tilting his head to the side. “Fourth husband?”
“Fourth of my name,” Ivey said, rolling his eyes. “And the last.”
“Perfect.” Leif looked up at a clock on the wall. “I can fit you in before lunch; come on back.”
It was quick and easy, and less than fifteen minutes later I had an I and a V on my knuckle with a bandage wrapped around it and a photocopied aftercare slip. I slid my wedding band onto Ivey’s right ring finger and we were back in the car in no time. The driver got us on the road again, and Ivey cradled my left hand in both of his, gingerly tracing his fingertip over my newest declaration of love.
“This is too much,” he said.
I scoffed. “This eighty dollar tattoo is too much, but the thirty-thousand dollar wedding band was not?”
He smiled down at the ridiculously bright topaz and diamond baguette stones that wrapped my own wedding band and the way it nestled around his finger.
“The wedding band is too much too,” he said.
“I make no apologies.”
“I didn’t expect you would.” He adjusted himself so his shoulders rested against the window and his knees angled toward the side of my thigh. The position lasted all of two minutes before he moved into another pose, and another, then another.
“Settle,” I said softly, resting my hand on his knee.
He made a very frustrated sound, and did his best to obey.
“You made it hard,” he murmured, flicking a quick look at the back of the driver’s head before turning to me with imploring eyes.
“Is there something you need?” I asked.
“I needed something on the flight last night,” he said, “or in bed this morning.”
I hummed, resting my head against the back of the seat. “I thought you got plenty of that before we left LA.”
“You know there’s no such thing as too much when it comes to you,” he grumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his head on my shoulder.
It was as close to stillness as he could find, and I slid my hand up his thigh and over until my fingertips brushed brazenly against the thick outline of his neglected erection.
“And that’s why this”— I wiggled my ring finger—“isn’t too much.”
I eased my hand back between his legs, ready to drive him mad without drawing any attention from the front seat. Ivey’s body tensed and he grunted, but his hips lifted off the seat and he pressed himself against my palm.
“Settle,” I warned him again under my breath, and he tried.
He tried .
“I’ll make it worth your while once we get to the hotel,” I promised, dragging my lips against his ear. “I’ll make you come so much, you never want to come again.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he argued.
“No.” I smiled and hummed. “But it’s what I meant.”
A handful of hours later, Ivey had broken out in a cold sweat against his temples and the car pulled up a long winding road into a large gravel parking lot. The Lodge at Cherry Creek sprawled across the property, nothing but huge windows and wood beams with the same gorgeous mountains as before flanking it from the back.
Ivey stumbled out of the car, doing his best to cover any bulge between his legs while our driver pulled two matching suitcases out of the trunk. I thanked him, tipped him, then kissed Ivey until his knees knocked against mine.
“You poor thing,” I teased, gesturing toward the front door with my chin. “We’ve got to get you inside.”
“Yes, please,” he whispered, and the fact he was barely holding on to his sanity was enough to make me almost too hard to function.
The man at the desk had a mop of black hair and two piercingly bright blue eyes. He didn’t look old enough to have a job, but he moved around with an unmistakable air of authority.
“Welcome to the Lodge at Cherry Creek,” he said with an equally blinding grin. “Checking in?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yes. Dalton Fox.”
“Dalton Fox,” he repeated, tapping my name into the computer. “I’m Cameron, by the way, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I murmured, doing my best to not focus on the way Ivey’s body vibrated like a livewire.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” someone called out, rather accusatory, with a finger wagging in Cameron’s direction. “You’re supposed to be in town with James.”
“Right,” Cameron agreed, gesturing vaguely, “but we have guests checking in.”
“I can check them in,” the other man said, using his hip to knock Cameron out of the way. “Luke is in the parking lot waiting for you. Get out of here.”
“Enjoy your stay, gentlemen.” Cameron offered a flourished bow before dropping an actual, physical room key on top of the counter. “Eddie, go fuck yourself.”
The other man, Eddie, I assumed, sighed heavily.
“Please excuse him,” Eddie said apologetically. “You’re in room 107 on the first floor down at the end of the hallway. The hot tub has been on since the morning so it should be up to temperature for you. We have a breakfast buffet every morning from six to ten and dinner is available starting at four.”
“Great.” I took the key, turning over the well-worn, cherry-shaped keychain in my palm a couple of times before passing it to Ivey. His palm was sweating, and he made a tight fist around the key.
“Anything else I can help you with?” Eddie asked.
“I think we’re set for now,” I said. “Thank you for the very warm welcome.”
“I hope you can excuse Cameron’s mouth,” Eddie, who didn’t look much older than Cameron in the first place, said again.
“Far from the most offensive thing I’ve heard today,” I assured him.
Ivey was already two steps away from the front desk, and I grabbed both of our suitcases to follow after him. I appreciated that he was desperate to get back into a private space, but he should have known me well enough to know that I wouldn’t go easy on him. And with celebrating our anniversary being enough cause to take the trip, I had more than enough planned to keep him busy until it was time to return home. If he thought I was going to take him into the hotel room and jerk him off against the door to give him a clean slate, he had another thing coming.
He fumbled the key and the lock twice before calmer fingers prevailed, and I dragged the suitcases into the room. The furnishings were clean, but dated, a far cry from the places we’d stayed on our trips back to Manhattan, but the room oozed character. With exposed wood beams in the ceiling and a view of the mountains out back that was beyond breathtaking, the Lodge was a great place for us to sneak off to. There was a small table bearing a chilled bottle of champagne, two matching chairs, and crisp, white sheets on the bed, and…
“The view,” Ivey murmured, tossing the key onto the bed. He pressed his palms against the sliding glass door, and I closed the space between us, boxing him in.
My own arousal dug into the back of his hip, and I threaded our fingers together to hold him steady. Ivey groaned as our bodies connected, and he tilted his head to the side so I could kiss and suck my way up the curve of his neck. He was so predictable, so perfect.
So mine.
The unfamiliar placement of my wedding ring on his right hand gouged against my palm, and I nipped at the sensitive spot behind his ear every time I felt it.
“Sir.”
The honorific was barely more than a whimper
“Ivey,” I whimpered back at him.
“Please.”
“Please,” I repeated, taking a step back but keeping our bodies together, pulling him away from the window with our fingers still entwined. “No.”