16. Elora
16
ELORA
36.1716° N, 115.1391° W
W ith my fingers pressed against the glass of the hotel window, I watch the lights of the fountain in front of the Bellagio dance to the music. I can’t hear it, but I swear I can feel it against my fingertips. When Roman comes up behind me, I look back at him, and his eyes drop to my cheek before his face softens.
“This is so cool,” I tell him as his hands capture my hips, then slide forward to band around my waist, pulling me closer.
He’s always pulling me closer.
“What do you want to do while we’re here?”
“I don’t know.” I lean back into him, feeling his thumb slide under the edge of my tank top and smooth across my skin, making my toes curl. “What do people normally do when they’re in Vegas?”
“Drink, gamble, get married.”
I laugh and tip my head back to look up at him. “I would call you a liar, but Beth—the girl who took over my job at The View—married her husband here, and it was the first time they ever met in person.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I look back out the window. “Do you want to go walk around with me for a little while before we go to bed?”
“We can do that.”
“Are you sure?” I ask because it’s already after ten, and we have spent the day driving.
Or he did. I sat in the passenger seat, listened to my podcast that he found disturbing, ate snacks, and told him stories about my childhood while he shared a little about his, which honestly sounded sad.
He never once mentioned playing outside with his friends or siblings. He didn’t talk about baking cookies with his mom or things he did with his dad. All his stories revolved around the sports teams he was on or the extra tutoring he took to make sure he was prepared for the next year of school. Besides his story about when he went to sleepaway camp as a kid, nothing he’s ever told me has led me to believe he even had a childhood. At least not one I could relate to.
“I’m good if you are.” He uses his chin to pull my hair back, and I feel his lips on my neck while his fingers slide under the waistband of the sleep shorts I put on after I got out of the shower. As his fingers start to skim lower, I hold my breath and wait, but he doesn’t go any farther. Instead, he pulls his hand free and touches his lips to my neck one last time before taking a step back. “Get dressed, and we can go.”
Licking my lips, I turn to face him and wonder how he can have so much control when I constantly feel like I’m going to come out of my skin every time he touches me. And since the seal was broken, he’s touched me a lot, but we still haven’t gone past heavy petting. It’s driving me crazy.
So crazy that I bought a box of condoms myself before we left San Francisco.
Not that I think I’m brave enough to tell him about them or even brave enough to push the subject of us taking things further. Because if he turns me down, I’m not sure I will ever recover from that kind of embarrassment.
Dropping my eyes from his, I walk to my bag and pull out my bralette and one of the lightweight dresses that I own—a dress that is nowhere near as nice as the dress he bought for me in San Francisco, a dress that made me feel like a movie star, even if the price tag that was still attached made me want to puke.
Turning my back to him, I take off the tank top I have on, then put on the strapless lace bralette and slip the dress on over my head. After taking off my shorts, I turn around and find him dragging a T-shirt down over his head.
“Ready?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.
“Yep.” I grab my purse and slip on my flip-flops, then follow him to the door that he holds open. Taking his hand, we walk down the hall toward the elevator.
“Did your mom like to gamble?” he asks when we get downstairs to the casino, where the sound of the slot machines is almost deafening.
“Yes.” I smile up at him. “I might not have understood why she wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge, but I know exactly why she wanted to come here.” I take my eyes off him as he maneuvers us around a group of people. “She loved to gamble and dragged me to the casino more than once to sit with her while she played the penny slots.” I smile at the memory.
“Did she win?”
“Rarely, but only because she would never max out her bets. But twenty dollars could hold her over for an entire night, and win or lose, she did it smiling.”
“Did you want to play the slots?”
“Not really. I’d rather just walk the Strip and see the lights if that’s okay.”
“Whatever you want.” He leads me through the crowds and out the front door, where the air is no longer filled with smoke but instead smells like stale beer, marijuana, and about a million different types of cologne and perfume.
As we walk down the sidewalk, I’m amazed by how many people are out. I don’t think I’ve seen this many people in my life, not even while walking around San Francisco. I for sure have never seen so many bachelorettes in one place. They seem to be everywhere we look.
“Oh, that looks fun,” I tell Roman when a woman passes us with a cup that is bright pink, glowing, and as tall as I am.
“Do you want one?”
“If we pass the place she got it from,” I tell him, distracted as a guy passes me a card. When I flip it over to see what it is, my eyes widen. The guy on the back looks like a linebacker who showered in baby oil and is obviously an escort, given the outline of offers he has attached to his name.
“You don’t need that.” Roman startles me, snatching it from my hand and tossing it to the ground. I start to tell him he shouldn’t litter, but I notice the entire sidewalk is covered with cards, each of them featuring a different man or woman.
“Do people actually use those services?”
“Yes,” he grumbles, tugging my hand so I’ll follow him into a small shop where slushy machines line the wall behind the counter and plastic cups in all different shapes and sizes are stacked on shelves.
After ordering my drink in the same cup I saw the girl with, we walk until we stumble upon an outdoor area where a live DJ is playing, and people are dancing. Finding a seat on the outer edge of the makeshift dance floor, Roman pulls me down to sit on his lap, locking his hand around my hip as I sway to the music and sip my drink.
When one of my favorite songs from Hozier comes on, I sing along until the song gets to the chorus. The words about not even death being able to keep the artist from the person he loves feel a little different while sitting on Roman’s lap after everything we’ve experienced together. I turn to look at him over my shoulder when his fingers tighten around my hips, and something beyond words passes between us as he looks into my eyes. Dragging me back against his chest, he wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to the side of my head.
When the song ends, another one that is more upbeat starts to play, and I look around at the people dancing. My mom would have loved this and would’ve been in the crowd dancing, even if she looked out of place surrounded by people half her age.
She never let a moment of living life pass her up. I can’t even count the number of times she would just start dancing in the grocery store or in the kitchen if a song she liked came on. Getting to my feet, I turn and pull Roman up with me. I honestly expect him to scoff when I start to dance, but as the music blasts through the speakers, he pulls me close and moves to the beat with his body plastered against mine. Buzzed from the alcohol and high on the moment, I laugh and dance with him until my skin feels flushed and my feet start to hurt.
When the music changes to something a little slower, I look up at him with a smile on my face, feeling my rib cage tighten around my heart and lungs when I see him smiling back at me.
Even though hundreds of strangers surround us, it feels like it’s just us, and when he wraps his arms around me and moves his lips to my ear, whispering, “Happy”, my nose stings. It’s not a question; it’s a statement. He’s happy, and somehow, I’m able to give that to him. Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head against his chest and sway with him as the music plays, people dance, and the stars over Vegas glitter in the dark sky above us.
Before I even open my eyes, I know I’m alone. It’s not that I don’t feel Roman pressed up against me, nor that I don’t hear the soothing tempo of his deep voice in the room as he talks on the phone, which he does a lot. It’s something else. It’s like the room around me just feels empty.
Blinking my eyes open, I lift my head off the pillow and shove my hair out of my face. Even with the curtains closed, enough light is still coming through to easily see around the room, and the amount of relief I feel when I see Roman’s bag still open on the luggage stand is startling.
Since he told me he was coming with me, I’ve never once thought about him just leaving me without saying something, so I don’t know where the fear of him taking off without a goodbye comes from.
Sitting up fully, I prop my back against the headboard, then reach over and grab my phone. It’s nine, so it’s early—or I consider it early, seeing as we were out until after three this morning. Glancing around, I see his sneakers missing from where he left them by the door, so he must have decided to go for a run when he got up this morning.
With no text from him letting me know where he went, I start to pull up his number to send him a message and ask if he’s okay but stop when my cell phone rings.
“Hi, Kandi,” I greet after sliding my finger across the screen and putting the call on speaker.
“Hey, Elora, do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure, is everything okay?” I ask, looking toward the door when it opens. I watch Roman step inside, wearing only a pair of shorts but holding an iced coffee with the paper still covering the top of the straw. Kicking off his shoes, he walks toward me.
“Everything is great. I just wanted to talk to you about your closing date scheduled for two weeks from today. Do you think you’ll be able to make it here?”
“Oh.” I look up at Roman, who comes around to the side of the bed to kiss me before he passes me the coffee. “Do I need to be there?”
“You don’t have to be here; we can do everything from wherever you are. The buyer is from out of state, so they won’t be there to sign in person either.”
“I still need to figure out where to put all the stuff from my mom’s house. It might be good for me to come back and do that at the same time.”
“If that’s what you want. But the buyer has already let me know there is no rush for you to move since they won’t be able to make it to the property for a few months. You will probably have to pay them rent for the time you are still occupying the property, but we can sort all of that out before we close.”
“I think I’ll plan on being there. I’d rather have everything done,” I say, even as my heart hurts and my stomach fills with dread.
“Sounds good. Then I’ll plan on you being here for closing.”
“Thanks, Kandi.”
“Any time. We’ll be in touch soon. Have a great day.”
“You too.” I hang up after saying goodbye, then look at Roman when he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“Are you sure you want to go back for the closing?” he asks instead of acknowledging my gratitude.
“I don’t know that I want to, but it would be good to spend some time at my mom’s house. Plus, it will take me some time to sort through the things that I want to keep and what I should get rid of.” I rub my lips together, then add quietly, “We’re already here in Vegas. The Grand Canyon is a day trip, and New Orleans was next. I planned on staying there for a while and getting a job, so I can just find a place to store my van and fly home after instead.”
“What about the rest of the circles on your map?”
“I’ll get back to things after I’m done. I’m sure you’ll also need to get back home.”
His jaw clenches. “I’m not going back to New York without you, and I’m not letting you go to Wyoming without me.” Taking my eyes off his, I look around the room at his things mixed with mine.
“What are we doing, Roman?” I ask softly after a long moment.
“What do you mean?”
Tossing out my hand, I motion between us. “I mean… what is this? What are we doing?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
Darn, my heart should not hurt from that statement, especially when I don’t even know what this is, nor even know what I wanted him to say. A declaration of love would be ridiculous to want, given the short time we’ve known each other, but part of me wishes it was that easy.
Taking my coffee, he sets it on the side table, then wraps his hand around my ankle and tugs me down in the bed, making me gasp. As he crawls up between my legs, my heart pounds as he looms over me.
“I don’t know what this is, Elora.” He leans in, kissing me softly. “But I know it feels right .” His hand smooths up my side, where my tank top has ridden up, his thumb stopping at the underside of my breast. It takes everything in me not to arch, not to seek more of his touch. His lips brush against mine while his fingers find their way into my hair. “I also know the idea of you being in Wyoming or anywhere else that isn’t with me makes my chest feel tight.” His eyes wander over my face. “Can that be enough for now?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, resting my hands on his shoulders while my heart pounds. His thumb slides under my tank top and over my nipple. My inner walls contract.
“Good.” He kisses me again, his tongue sliding against mine.
Lifting my knee, I curve my leg around his hip. The sound he makes in the back of his throat when his erection presses against me causes a tingle to spread from my scalp and down my spine. His hand at my breast moves between us, and his fingers find me in an instant, sliding over my clit, circling once, then twice, before entering me slowly. With zero shame, I ride his fingers, digging my nails into his skin, arching my back when he uses his chin to tug down my tank top so he can pull my nipple into his mouth.
“Fuck.” He pulls back, his eyes meeting mine, as I come almost instantly. But it’s still not enough, not when I can feel how hard he is, and not when I’m aching to have him inside me.
“Please don’t stop,” I pant as he leans back on his knees. I’m honestly not above begging at this point, and I’m pretty sure I might cry if I don’t get all of him.
“I’m not stopping.” He lifts my knees and yanks my shorts off, tossing them over his shoulder. “Lose the top.”
Sitting up, I strip off my tank top while he gets off the bed.
“How?” I whisper when I see him go to my suitcase and take out the box of condoms I tucked under my clothes.
“Haven’t you realized, Elora, that I’m obsessed with you?” He opens the box, tossing a few condoms onto the bed. “There is nothing you do that I don’t notice.”
Coming back to the bed, he takes off his shorts, and I swallow. I’ve seen a lot of him, but never all of him. And all his powerful muscles, smooth, tattooed skin, and rock-hard cock that is thick and long are a lot to take in. Wrapping one hand around my ankle yet again, he yanks, my back hitting the bed as he crawls up between my legs.
I never knew how much I longed to feel his skin against mine until this moment. Feeling the rough texture of the hair on his legs against my smooth skin as his tattooed hands roam up my body to grasp both my breasts, I now know I wanted it desperately. Sitting back on his knees, he lets his eyes wander over me with unbiased admiration.
“Do you know how perfect you are?” His gaze meets mine while his hands smooth down my stomach to the tops of my thighs. “How many times I’ve gotten myself off while thinking about you spread out in front of me like this.” His hands slide to the backs of my legs, and he tugs me up his lap, exposing even more of me. “Don’t move.”
With my breath caught in the back of my throat and every single one of my nerve endings feeling exposed, I watch him grab a condom and open it, then slide it down his length. Once it’s on, he moves his hands to my inner thighs and up, using his fingers to spread me open.
“Such a pretty pink.”
“Oh God.” My head presses back into the pillow when his fingers slide inside me.
“So wet.” He slips them out and starts to circle my clit. “What was your plan with the condoms?” he asks quietly, and my cheeks warm.
“I didn’t have one.” I lift my hips to get more of his touch.
“Greedy.”
I am. I never knew I could want anyone so much, but here we are.
Letting his hands slide away, he leans forward over me until he’s my whole world. His hand works between us, and my entire focus becomes him and his cock as he starts to enter me slowly.
“So tight. I knew you’d be tight, but I had no fucking idea,” he hisses, bottoming out, but I can still feel there’s more of him left. “This isn’t going to work,” he groans, and I start to panic, thinking that he’s going to pull away, but I let out a gasp when he rolls us until I’m straddling his lap. “Much better.” He grabs my ass with one hand and the back of my neck with the other, pulling my mouth down to his for a deep kiss before releasing his hold.
Filled with him, I sit up, pressing my hands against his chest and looking into his eyes. I rise and fall slowly, memorizing the look on his face and the feel of his hands roaming anywhere he can touch. When my inner walls tighten around him as my orgasm builds, he grabs my ass, urging me to go faster and forcing me down on his cock hard. It sends my head spinning. I try to hold out, try to keep from coming, but I can’t stop it any more than I can stop the sun from rising each day.
As I begin to fall over the edge, he rolls us again, taking over, thrusting into me brutally, the pinch of pain only intensifying my orgasm and stretching it out. Clinging to him with every inch of me, I feel his movements become jerky as his strokes slow, then I listen as he loses himself inside me while his heart pounds so hard I feel it against my chest.
The urge to cry hits me like a freight train, and I know it’s stupid, but I’ve never felt more connected to anyone in my life. I know that I will never recover from whatever this is. Kissing the skin at the crook of my neck, he pulls back enough to look at me.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, sounding panicked while his eyes wander over my face, and his fingers slide across my cheek that I realize is wet.
“I’m just being a girl,” I whisper, covering my face with my hands. “Ignore me.”
“Christ, Elora,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and rolling us so that I’m sprawled across his chest. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully, and he sighs.
“Swear I didn’t hurt you?”
“You didn’t.” I let out a breath before whispering, “But you have the power to.”
His fingers go to my jaw to force my eyes to his. “That’s not one-sided, Elora. You have that same power over me.” Another tear escapes from between my lashes. “I hate when you cry.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He cups my cheek, smoothing my tears away before pressing his lips to mine. When he pulls back, I curl myself into his chest, and his fingers smooth up and down my back, making my eyelids feel heavy. “As much as I want to stay in bed with you like this, we need to shower.”
“Why?”
“We have an appointment.”
“What appointment?” I frown, lifting my head to look at him.
“You’ll see.” He maneuvers us out of bed and carries me toward the bathroom.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I tell him as he flips on the shower.
His eyes meet mine, and I swear they twinkle as he mutters, “You’ll like this one.”