19. Ray #2
“I hope so. I mean, I spent like forty grand. If that’s not enough then I have no idea what is.
” The words felt obscene coming out of my mouth.
I recalled seeing the total flash-up on the card readers and I could feel my face scrunching up at just the thought of it. “You can return this stuff, right?”
Wade’s answering snort told me that he absolutely would not. “I could give it away if you don’t want it afterward.”
“To whom? The bunnies you’ve ghosted and will have to grovel back to after all this is over?”
His eyes rolled so far back into his head that I thought they might permanently stay there. “So mouthy,” he mumbled as he closed his trunk, securing everything in place.
Two nights ago, the photos we’d had taken of us with Jackson and Mandy had been posted on a handful of news websites.
Wade had sent them to me, claiming they’d be enough to really sell it, and warned me ahead of time that there would likely be more photographers wanting pictures at the resort.
It wasn’t anything unusual to him—in fact, he’d mentioned it with such intense nonchalance that I’d had to ask him to repeat himself.
But as I walked around the car it was all I could think about.
The moment we arrived at the Colchester Ski Resort, it was game on.
Full-blown intensity until the quiet of the suite.
“Ready?” he asked.
I pulled the sleeves of my sweater down over my palms. “I guess. I’m a bit nervous.”
He sighed and opened the car door. “Yeah, I figured from the jokes. That’s not really like you.” He closed the distance between us, taking a full three steps before stopping directly in front of me, arms crossed over his chest. “What are you worried about?”
What was I worried about? Everything. Not selling it, not looking the part, not acting the part, sleeping in the same room as him, my body getting the better of me if we had to be publicly affectionate.
The times when that had happened, I’d either run away or fucked him.
Neither had been successful in being what they were meant to be, practice.
“If it’s because of my family, I’ll do most of the talking?—”
“It’s not that,” I sighed. “There’s a lot I’m worried about. But mostly it’s the affection stuff. I mean, I know we can’t avoid it, but the times we’ve kissed haven’t exactly ended well and I’m worried I’ll look either extremely uncomfortable or extremely turned on.”
He cracked the smallest grin and placed his hands on my shoulders, leaning down to my height. “You’re worried about kissing me?”
“Please don’t make it a big deal.”
“I’m not,” he chuckled. “I’m flattered.”
“You’re annoy?—”
He pressed his lips against mine before I could finish. There wasn’t anything to it, just an extended peck, a slow yet firm kiss that meant nothing. But it still made my stomach twist and still made me jittery, my fingers twitching toward him as if they had a mind of their own.
He pulled away just a hair. “See? It’ll be fine.”
Snaking my hands up between his arms, I pushed them off my shoulders and raised up on my toes.
“You know it’ll be more than that,” I mumbled.
I was now the one closing the distance, kissing him easier, gentler.
I knew I shouldn’t, knew that in my bones and blood, but I was trying to combat the issue that my worries stemmed from and besides, I wanted to.
Warm fingers slid across my cheek, holding there as his lips parted, letting me in.
He tasted of his morning coffee again, no hint of sweetness, just that and the scent of his cologne.
I dove deeper, taking control, and he battled me for it.
Too much heat, too much intensity. This sort of kiss wouldn’t be what we did in front of others.
The way he was kissing me was meant for the damn bedroom and I didn’t have a single problem with it while our lips were pressed against one another’s.
When he pulled back, however, it felt like a different story.
He caught his breath as he put a foot of space between us, the apples of his cheeks turning a pale pink.
I could feel a little bit of swelling in my lips, could taste the absence of him on my tongue.
“I guess it won’t be that hard,” I breathed.
He dragged a hand down his face. “Maybe for you,” he groaned. “ You don’t have a visual cue for when you’re turned on that you have to worry about.”
My eyes widened as I glanced down, and sure enough, behind the zipper of his well-fitting jeans was a bulge. “Shit.”
“It’s fine. We’ll just keep that to a minimum outside the suite.”
“Nothing is happening in the suite,” I deadpanned. “If we’re sharing a room, we’ll be keeping our distance. I expect you to hold me to that.”
The sly little grin that spread across Wade’s face did absolutely nothing to help the little damp patch in my underwear.
“Oh, Ray,” he cooed. His fingers twisted around the handle of the passenger side door and opened it up for me, gesturing toward the seat.
“We’re not just sharing a room. We’re sharing a bed. ”