Chapter 29 #2
The frenzy of the press hits me straight in the gut.
Unlike the other franchise parties, this one’s at an exclusive rooftop bar in the Sunset Strip’s most prominent hotel—The LA Imperial—rather than our arena.
From the instant I step out of our chauffeured ride, there are more paparazzi than makes sense, snapping from every angle.
The red carpet is short; my nerves ebb a notch as I help Finley out of the blacked-out Mercedes Lex hired.
For someone who likes to have control over most aspects of his life, Eli gives Lex a lot of freedom with the handling of his public image.
Bret, my agent, only briefed me on what my affiliations are saying and advised me on how to navigate tonight conscientiously.
As invasive as Lex is, it’s been a relief to have someone else wrangle the worrisome parts of coming out so we can live. The last few weeks could’ve been pandemonium, but Lex and his team have kept a lid on it—even with us pushing back, and with all the Ryker shit.
Fuck. Thinking of that bastard turns my stomach.
Finley looks back at the hotel, exhales, and laces her fingers with mine.
“Phew,” she hums up at me with a nose-scrunching smile, “I know this place. Makes everything feel less… daunting?”
Eli rounds the car as one of Lex’s PR people emerges from an emergency-exit alcove by the press barrier.
“You know this place?” I ask, catching Eli’s eye when he coils an arm around Fin’s waist and grazes my side.
“Yeah, Summer’s husband owns it. You know, my boss?” She adds with an excited chirp. Her joy in her smile radiates through me. “Remember this morning? When I told you her husband is a huge Comets fan, and… were you even listening?”
“I might have been distracted.” When she’s naked in front of me, it’s hard to focus on anything but her gorgeous body, and add in a naked Eli… Yeah, no mortal computes.
“There’s no might about it,” Eli snickers, poking my side.
The crinkles around his eyes are tight with the same apprehension that’s roiling beneath my skin, yet he’s holding steady, being the same man out here as he is at home. I could not be prouder of him and Finley.
We start the carpet, pausing when PR nods us to face the right photographer. Lex is giving The Chronicle the main close-up in exchange for intel on where their article’s photos came from.
I have a hunch we already know, but as Dad would say, a hunch isn’t proof.
There’s something in the air that’s uneasy as we’re faced with the crowd of photographers.
I tug Finley into my side. “You are the best distraction.”
The three of us are sandwiched together, side to side. Hands holding hands, clawing into each other’s waists, and arms tangled together.
For a second, the world falls silent.
The quiet before the storm spectacularly erupts around us in a mania of frantic questions that blur together.
It’s too much.
Finley’s smile is wavering, and Eli’s jaw is getting tighter by the second. He’s pushing through it, but I can feel the tremor in his control.
Then, it happens.
His hand brushes mine, and his fingers curl around my wrist.
I’m holding my breath. Waiting to take action.
His fingers squeeze like he’s trying to hold out. Just a little longer…
Then I feel it. Three taps.
We’re done here.
I shift closer, steadying him. “Let’s go inside,” I murmur, quietly enough that only they hear.
Eli nods once. Together, we guide Finley forward, cutting through the bedlam of flashes and shouts, the three of us moving as one.
The second the glass closes behind us, the noise dies. I take a moment to check on Eli. He’s still tense, but as he absorbs the sudden peace, his jaw relaxes enough that I know he’ll be okay.
The elevator doors are already waiting, and we slip inside. We stand in silence, backs to the mirror, eyes fixed on the open doors ahead. When they finally close, all three of us release our breath in unison.
“That was intense,” Finley says first.
Our eyes meet in the mirrored doors. “Tell me about it.”
“The noise…” Eli shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t all screaming at once, and their flashes weren’t so close.”
“Really? You wouldn’t let JJ take a selfie of us before we left home,” Fin chuckles, hands on hips.
Eli smiles up at me, his stare soft and thankful. “It’s different.”
“Different…?”
“I don’t know…” He gnaws his lip. “Kind of makes us official… real.”
“Last night and this morning were very real to me,” I say, even though I totally get what he means—no matter what happens, the three of us will always be connected by any one of the photos snapped of us. We are public history that will never be erased.
The flush creeping up Eli’s neck to his cheeks eggs me on. “Every second we’ve spent inside our girl. Every taste I’ve had of you…”
His breath hitches, eyes darkening to a black hole that pulls my pulse into my throat.
Eli says nothing, and the elevator fills with the same charged quiet we brought in. Tension hums in the air. The kind that’s got us squirming with the heat pulsing between us.
The doors open, and I’m already aching to get to our suite. Every plan I made blurs as we step into a grove of potted palms screening the bar from the elevator.
Twinkle lights snake the trunks, leading us through a glittering, sand-strewn path, glinting red, green, gold.
“Goodness, it looks so different than the last time I came here,” Finley breathes.
“The Christmas parties are always insane, but this is beyond the norm,” I say, inhaling vanilla and coconut threaded with cinnamon and cranberry.
“So much better than the usual wannabe Lapland decor,” Eli muses, turning to walk backward through the tree-lined walkway.
He’s such a grump that when he snags Finley’s hand and swings it to the chirpy beat of the Christmas music, I pause.
“Are you feeling okay?” I laugh as he spins her, rocking her side to side with her back to his chest.
Eli grins and shuffles closer to me until Finley’s squished between us, all three of us laughing.
“Yes!” an excitable voice cuts over the music. “We finally have some happy elves!”
Over Eli’s shoulder, Cecelia is brandishing a hockey stick with mistletoe taped to the end, eyes sparkling like she’s found her natural habitat.
“Merry Christmas, guys,” she croons, hoisting the stick above us with one hand while grabbing a Polaroid from the table. “It’s not Christmas until you’ve kissed under the mistletoe, so…”
I side-eye Eli as he turns to face her. He leans into Finley and kisses her cheek; I mirror him on the other side. We hold until she snaps the shot and hands it to him.
“Make sure you let the photo develop before you touch the film.” Cecelia sips her cocktail, then asks Eli, “Did you get my email about the Christmas present drive for the children’s hospital?”
He nods, arm around Finley’s waist. “I’ll reply tomorrow.”
“Sure thing,” Cecilia sings, shaking her head so the bobble on her Santa hat swings. “Do you mind if I take another photo for the team socials?”
“The same as the last one?” Eli asks.
She gives a pleading grimace, glancing at Finley and me before landing on Eli again. “Please? I think our followers are going to need something cute after Hillier and Andersen’s crazy antics. Dylan couldn’t get out of here fast enough…”
“Dylan’s here?” Eli sounds as surprised as I feel.
“He brought his daughter as his date, and oh my God, she’s so sassy.” Cecilia all but clings to his bicep.
Finley stiffens, and I bite back a laugh. Her jealous streak is hot as hell.
I keep waiting for Eli to pull away, but the back-and-forth is easy. And even with my own insides twisting at someone else’s hand on him, I love seeing him open to the world. He studies the Polaroid while Cecilia chatters, then asks us quietly, “Are you guys okay with taking another photo?”
“Yeah, I’m okay with that. You?” Finley tips her head up at me with an askance pout.
“Totally.” My ribs squeeze around my chest while Eli and I lean in to kiss her cheeks again, but this time, he tips his face so that his eyes are on me.
The gentle squint of his stare, coupled with the light grip of his hand on my forearm across Finley’s back, sends a lance of longing through me. To touch them. To taste them.
To show the whole damn world they’re mine.
As if my need lives in him, Eli turns Finley into his chest, then steps into her body and presses her back into me. When he kisses her lips, my heart pounds into her while I trail my mouth over her cheek.
In a move I don’t see coming, Eli drags his lips to mine by her ear.
“Is this what you need?” He whispers.
“Yes, Love,” Finley hums at the same time as I sigh, “Fuck yes, Sweetheart.”
Eli’s lips press firmly to mine. His kiss isn’t over the top or showy. It’s just his mouth fused to mine in a silent promise that he feels what I feel. All the ache and yearning that lives in me burns in him, too.
Nothing is as good as this. His palm on my jaw, his other hand on our girl’s hip beneath mine, her wispy hums melting deeper into me.
Finley’s head drops onto my shoulder. She wraps one arm around Eli’s and lets the other hang down my side, nails biting my thigh—as if she knows I need that sharp edge to ground me.
For this moment alone, every hurdle was worth it. I’d relive every doubt and bruise just to be this man—the one loved by, and loving, these two extraordinary people.
My people.