Chapter 11 Raven
RAVEN
Before we leave the shop, Foster pulls his hat off and puts it on my head, tugging it down low.
He turns up my coat collar and tells me to keep my head down.
Then he takes my gloved hand in his larger one.
A warm feeling spreads through my chest at his gentle concern, and I want nothing more than to hold the hat to my nose to take a deep whiff.
I just know a man this hot has to smell amazing.
He leads me down the street, continuously scanning for anyone who might notice us, but it seems like the crowd has dissipated and moved on.
I can’t seem to do the same. All I can think about is the way he threw himself between me and that balloon full of paint, the way he carried me out of there and didn’t seem to want to let me go.
I can still feel the heat of his lips on my neck.
Sure, it’s literally his job to protect me, but this all felt like more.
Bodyguards don’t usually whisk their clients away from something as non-threatening as some paint, right?
And they sure don’t scrape their teeth along their clients scent glands.
My clit throbs as I remember the sensation of the sharp points of his canines grazing my skin.
Thank god for slick-absorbing panties. No amount of scent blockers or suppressants would hide the way I’m dripping for him.
At the end of the block, Foster stops in front of an elegant hotel and holds open the door.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as we step inside.
“Resting,” Foster replies in that gruff voice that brooks no argument.
“I can’t afford a place like this,” I whisper, following him toward the front desk.
Stained wood creates an intricate parquet pattern on the floor beneath our feet. Gold-framed paintings hang on the walls between spacious windows that showcase the snow outside. From behind a marble counter, a man greets us with a tight smile.
Foster glances down at me, then away. “I can.”
I can’t imagine security guards make all that much. I tug on his hand, trying to get him to turn back. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just go back to the village. I can probably try to get Ana to cancel something if you really need a break.”
“It’s not for me, cucciola. I never have a good reason to spend my money, let me spend it on you. ”
“I’m not a puppy,” I grumble, but he doesn’t seem to hear me, and the idea that he wants to spend money on me has something inside my chest doing little flips.
When we reach the desk, a young man in a stiffly starched blue uniform welcomes us. Like most people in the service industry, he’s wearing scent blockers, but his build suggests he’s an alpha, and the way he looks at me and licks his lips insinuates he knows I’m an omega.
Foster greets the man in Italian, pulling me behind him.
“How may I help you,” the man answers in English.
“My wife and I would like a room,” Foster says, clear and definitive.
I know he’s only calling me his wife to keep the other alpha from getting ideas, but something about the word makes my stomach jolt. My skin is already tingling from the sudden change in temperature, but it sparks even more.
I nervously pinch the flesh between my thumb and forefinger and bite my bottom lip. Should I really be going to a hotel room alone with my bodyguard after the moment we just had? I mean, we’re already sharing a room at the village, but this feels different.
While I’m still deliberating, Foster takes a key card from the man at the desk, and before I know it, he’s leading me into the elevator. We don’t talk on the way up, but there’s a charge to the air that has my blood pumping extra fast.
When the doors open, he puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me out. Our room is at the end of the hall.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” I say as he waves the key in front of the lock and opens the door.
I step over the threshold and jerk to a halt.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen something so opulent.
Instead of opening directly to a bedroom like a standard hotel room, this place has a two story foyer.
A chandelier hangs low, the crystals glittering like diamonds.
Just below it is a round marble table, with a large vase of artfully arranged flowers gracing the center.
“I’ll draw the bath,” he says, disappearing down the hall, leaving me standing there, mouth agape.
It’s not until I slip off my heels that I realize how damp my clothes are from the snow. My tights are especially wet, but I don’t think that’s because of the weather. That has more to do with the alpha currently drawing me a bath.
What would it be like to invite him to join me?
I’ve never taken a bath with someone else before.
I’ve never done anything with anyone. Well, I kissed someone sophomore year of high school, but that resulted in years of misery.
After that, I avoided anything having to do with sex or romance and poured everything into ice skating.
The ice is hard and unyielding, but it can’t touch my heart.
I take off my gloves and coat, then lay them over a chair just as Foster returns.
“It’s ready.” He offers me his hand, and I take it. His bare, calloused fingers wrap around mine. Warmth seeps up my arm from the point of contact, a steady hum that goes straight through my chest.
He leads me into the bathroom with a casual ease at odds with the churning sensation I’m feeling. It chafes a little that he isn’t affected, like I am. Steam billows from the massive clawfoot tub filled with bubbles, the scent of lavender permeating the air.
Foster lets go of my hand and tests the temperature of the water while I watch awkwardly from behind him. When he stands up and turns, we’re nearly nose to nose.
“Enjoy your bath, principessa,” he says. “You deserve to relax.”
Tears unexpectedly fill my eyes. “Thank you,” I choke out.
His hands squeeze my biceps, and he leans forward, lips brushing ever so lightly across my forehead. “My pleasure.”
And then, he’s gone. I strip down and get in the tub, aware that he’s on the other side of the door, and it would be so easy to call him back in, but I bite my tongue and sink further under the bubbles.