Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
I n what’s becoming a normal part of my morning routine, I wake to the sound of someone knocking on my door.
“Get up!” Taylor calls from the other side, all of last night’s sweetness gone in the light of day. “Victor wants me to make sure Adoria will like a spa package at some fancy hotel.”
I swing my door open, startling Taylor. I pushed one of my tank top sleeves off my shoulder just so he would do the thing he’s doing now. Staring at the bare swath of skin, eyes unfocusing slightly as he takes me in.
“I don’t see how this has anything to do with me,” I drawl, and his attention snaps back to my face.
He crosses his arms, leaning a shoulder against my doorframe. “Do you really trust me to decide what Adoria would like?”
“No,” I say, immediately. He wouldn’t have the slightest clue where to start. And, naturally, if Adoria does not like, she will blame Taylor’s poor taste on me. Because it should have been my job to correct him.
“Then meet me downstairs in twenty.” Taylor lowers his head, lips coming distractingly close to mine. My eyes dip down and I lift my chin, lids half-closing as I wait for him to meet me halfway. But Taylor merely smirks before withdrawing.
I listen to him whistle all the way down the stairs.
“Have you ever been to the Bel Air Ivy?”
We’re thirty minutes into our drive, and I’m actually getting excited. I’ve toured all kinds of luxury hotels on the Havens’ behalves, but the Ivy is one of the most exclusive in Southern California. The waitlist for a room is at least six months long, with a price tag that soars into quadruple digits. On our own, Taylor and I would never make it past the lobby.
I glance at my partner in crime. Taylor has been deceptively quiet the entire drive. Once, I would have condemned his silence, deemed him standoffish. But he smiles every time he catches me looking his way. I wonder if he’s simply lost inside his own head. Maybe drafting the pages of a brand new story. I certainly recognize the faraway look in his eyes.
“No, never,” he replies. “But it looks like the kind of place that would try to keep us riff-raff out.”
I let out a low laugh. He’s right. We turn a corner and the Ivy comes into focus. The view is picturesque; the kind of estate you’d imagine stumbling upon in the English countryside. Its namesake climbs up stone walls, the vines a kind of unkept a team of gardeners must work tirelessly to preserve.
Taylor opens my door before the valet, keeping close to my side as we make our way across the manicured grounds. As the entryway looms closer, I glance over at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be convincing me to come to your high school reunion?”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to.”
But that’s the fun part, I nearly grumble aloud as we reach the front desk.
“We’d like a tour of your spa,” Taylor says in his Authoritative voice. I have one of those as well, but it’s not nearly as effective as his. Or maybe it’s his smile that seals the deal. “We work for Victor and Adoria Haven.”
The front desk attendant does a remarkable job of looking bored as she holds Taylor’s gaze. “We don’t offer tours, sir. The spa is only available to our guests.”
A vein ticks in Taylor’s forehead. If it were up to him, we’d turn right back around and head straight home. But it isn’t. We live and breathe to serve the Havens’ every inconvenient whim.
“My boss is a regular here. Adoria Haven.” He smiles again, this one more strained than the last. “You probably have her on one of your lists around here somewhere.”
The receptionist blinks. Taylor taps me on the shoulder and I nod. My turn.
“Can you let us know what the different spa packages include, then?”
She turns to me stiffly. “Only our masseuses can walk you through the different treatments.”
I nod my head. “Great. Can we talk to a masseuse then?”
This time, I think I see a malevolent gleam in her eye when she says, “Our masseuses can only talk to guests.”
“Fine,” Taylor grinds out. “Then we’ll book a room. Whatever you’ve got.”
“We’re fully booked, sir. Our first opening isn’t until…” she taps something on her computer, not even checking the result before she says, “until next July.”
Taylor lets out a long sigh that I have to raise my voice to drown out. “Like he said, our boss is a regular. Can you look her up, please? I’m sure she has a room held for her.”
The receptionist makes a sound like a snort. “Miss, that’s not possible—”
“We’d like to speak with your manager,” Taylor grinds out.
I flash him an amused look as the receptionist shuffles away. She returns with an older woman who wears a smile so frozen I consider asking the name of her injector.
“Now, sir, I understand your disappointment,” she begins, clearly reciting her least favorite spiel. “But our hotel is booked months in advance. We simply can’t break the rules for—”
“Victor and Adoria Haven,” I intone. “They’ve held all kinds of events here.” And spent thousands upon thousands of dollars. “Surely, you’ve heard of them.”
The manager’s eyes widen. “Mr. and Mrs. Haven, you said?” She pushes the receptionist out of the way, hurriedly typing on the computer. “We would need their card to book their normal suite.”
I pull it out of my wallet, sliding it across the counter. The manager snaps it up with an apologetic smile.
“It looks like we do have something available for the Havens. How long will they need?”
“Just the day,” I say. “Mr. Haven wants to purchase a spa package for his wife. We’re here to decide which one. We’re told we can only visit the spa if we book a room.”
“Yes, I do apologize,” the manager says with a grimace. “It’s hotel policy.”
“Fine, book the room, please. Can we see a masseuse immediately?”
The receptionist and manager exchange a look. There’s some more frantic typing, and then, “Certainly. We’ll need to see your IDs…”
Taylor and I whip out our driver’s licenses in tandem. I do my best to ignore the total that flashes on the payment terminal. There’s a blur of four zeroes and I decide to look away before I hyperventilate.
Victor won’t mind the charge. Frankly, he likely won’t even notice it. The Havens have spent more on less extravagant presents for one another. If Victor wants to treat Adoria to the best spa in town, that’s what he’ll do, no matter the price. On a good day, I think their love is almost enviable. Today is not one of those days.
Taylor and I follow stiffly behind a bellhop who doesn’t blink twice at our lack of luggage. “Right through here,” he says, gesturing at an arched doorway hidden at the end of a long hallway. “You may change and wait to meet with your physical experimentalists.”
I glance at Taylor, not sure I want to know what a physical experimentalist is.
The interior of the spa is covered in sea green tiles, and on the opposite side of a marble receptionist table are two hallways. A woman in a white uniform smiles serenely at us from behind the desk.
“Ms. Montes and Mr. Hedlund, guests of Adoria and Victor Haven,” she says by way of greeting. “It is my pleasure to help you sample our spa packages. Ms. Montes, you may begin your serenity experience. Please head to the last room on the right. Mr. Hedlund—your relaxation lounge is on the left. You will need to discard your current clothing and you’ll find new garments waiting for you on the massage tables.”
Taylor and I exchange a look. “Um, how long will this take?”
The woman pinches her lips. “The length of your experience depends entirely on you. Your masseuse will let you know what your body needs.”
“Oh-kay.” I turn back to Taylor. “See you in a bit?”
He nods, flashing me a small smile. When I start to turn, he catches me by the wrist.
“There is no one else I would bring as a date to my reunion. It’s you or no one, Ayla. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t force you, but you should know how I feel.”
He turns, striding out of sight before I can fully comprehend what he’s admitted. As I make my way down the dim hallway, his words tumble around inside my head.
Date. He wants to bring me as his date.
Not as a friend, or as an accomplice. A date.
I rub at my chest, hating the way the word makes me feel. Hating that I don’t know what it means to him.
With a sigh, I find myself before my assigned room. When the door swings open, I let out a low whistle. Sconces are drilled into sandstone walls, diffusing a low, golden light. Ambient ocean sounds play through some kind of hidden speakers.
In the center of the chamber is a long massage table, a single white robe folded on top. I slip off my sundress, placing it in a complimentary laundry bag.
I should be scouring every inch of the room, searching for features Adoria wouldn’t approve of. That’s what a good assistant would do. But this assistant is trying to figure out the difference between a real and fake date, and whether I want to be either. Dazed, I pick up a note instructing me to lie face down and wait for my “physical experimentalist” to begin their evaluation.
Taylor’s voice is still echoing inside my head when I hear a sharp knock at the door. Light, slipper-clad steps inform me my masseuse has entered the room. They don’t speak and I don’t mind as warm oil is slathered over my back.
The quiet allows my thoughts to wander to their favorite subject: Taylor. It’s always Taylor. He stars in a series of snapshots flashing behind my eyes. Him grinning that half-grin. The veins on his arms as he reaches past me. I see him shirtless, him sweaty, him throwing his head back in pleasure.
Lastly, I see him how he was minutes ago. Asking me to go with him. Inviting me to see the shy, anxious parts of him he shields from everyone else’s view.
Why shouldn’t I go with him?
Deep down, I know I want to.
I want to see Taylor in a suit. I want to see his expression when I pull out my very best dress. I want to hang on his arm as he introduces me to all of his friends. And that’s the scary part.
I want this so badly…and I don’t even know if it’s real. Taylor asked me to come as his date. But will I be playing the role of his girlfriend? Putting on an act to scare off Rachel? If I accept, will I be okay if I learn the evening was all for pretend?
I want to believe his invitation was sincere. That Taylor feels what I do…that this thing between us is real. But he hasn’t said a single word about the night we spent together. I can’t read him at all. He loathed me as abruptly as he pulled me into his bed. And I have a bad feeling the closer I get to Taylor, the harder it will be to recover when he decides to hate me again.
The door closes with a snick , pulling me from my musings. I jerk upright, wondering how long my massage has been over. It was conducted entirely in silence, a detail Adoria wouldn’t actually mind. She hates being told what to do…which is ironic, considering how much she enjoys making demands.
The masseuse was gentle, and the oils they used weren’t sticky. I stretch my limbs, sighing when I realize some of the tension has indeed eased from my neck. Adoria won’t appreciate the ocean sounds or the fact the bathrobe isn’t made of organic bamboo fibers—nothing the swipe of a credit card won’t fix.
I wander back to the changing area, already rehearsing what I plan to say. See? This is what I’m good at. Burying myself in so much work I don’t have any spare time to think about—
“Taylor?” I squeak, pulling my robe back over my shoulders.
I blink, sure my mind is playing tricks on me. But it’s really him. Slipping inside my room, now draped in a fluffy bathrobe. He winks at my expression, taking a seat on top of my newly vacated massage table.
“Wha—what the hell are you doing?”
He shrugs, looking amused. “Is your massage over, too?”
“How did you even get in here?” I spit out.
He blinks at me. “I asked. C’mon Montes, we paid six grand for this. You really think they were going to tell me no ?”
I wander over to Taylor, acutely aware his eyes track my every move. We’re both naked under our robes, and even those are held together by a loose tie. I’m breathless, already blushing when he reaches out. I let him pull me by the hips so I stand between his open legs.
I clear my throat, trying not to drown in his bottomless gaze. “I think Adoria would enjoy this. You should tell Victor you’ll book the serenity experience.”
He ignores me. “Have you thought about my offer?” he asks instead.
I swallow. “And if I haven’t?” His grip tightens and I look up in surprise. “Are you going to try to seduce me into agreeing?”
“Tempting idea. But, no. I know you better than that, Al.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He cocks his head, studying me. “No one can persuade you to do something you don’t want to. Other than perhaps the Havens. But even then, you tolerate them because you decided it was necessary for your career. Am I wrong?”
He’s shockingly right. “I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to me,” I mutter. “Three weeks ago, you pretended I didn’t exist.”
Taylor reaches out, tapping the tip of my nose. “You know, for someone so smart, you say a lot of dumb things.”
His hands drift to the collar of my robe, and with one solid yank, my lips are against his. He cups the back of my head, pushing me closer. I moan into his mouth, eyes flying open when I realize what I’ve done.
Taylor chuckles. Ever so slowly, he guides me a step backward, giving him enough space to slide off the table.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, taking me by the wrist. I follow him to the far end of the room, gaping when he pulls at a door handle I hadn’t noticed was there.
We step into a covered patio. Greens enclose us on all sides, providing the illusion of privacy. A small pool occupies the center of the patio, turquoise water inviting us to slide inside.
Taylor’s hands return to my waist. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” he says against my lips. His tongue slides into my mouth and I open for him, sighing as he does something that erupts goosebumps along my arms.
“Why?” is the only word I’m able to utter before he nips at my bottom lip, deepening the kiss.
“No cameras out here,” is his eventual reply.
“How do you kn…” My voice trails off when I reach for Taylor and find bare skin. His robe has slipped off his shoulders, baring his hard chest.
“The hotel can’t have footage of their naked guests,” Taylor whispers. He wraps his hand around mine, guiding me to touch him. I trail my fingers over his shoulders and along the ridges of his pecs.
Taylor’s kisses trail off my mouth and down my neck. I know I’m arching against him, silently begging him to kiss lower, to touch me where I’m beginning to ache.
“What if…” I moan as he palms my breast through the robe, hardening my nipples until they hurt. “What if someone walks in?”
“We have our rooms booked for a full hour,” he murmurs. “They’ll give us a call when we have five minutes left.”
I push back, looking between his eyes. “How do you even know that?”
Taylor smiles, shaking his head like I’ve asked something silly. “They told us when we checked in. Which you would’ve known if you were paying attention instead of staring at me.” I color as he pulls me back into his arms. “But we can stop, Ayla. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
I rise to my tiptoes, pressing a kiss against his lips. “I thought you said you knew me, Hedlund.” His brows go up as I step back. “No one can make me do something I don’t want to.”
With one swift tug at the strings around my waist, I let the robe fall. Taylor’s eyes go dark as the fabric slides down my chest. He watches it pool around my feet, jaw flexing as I step out of the robe. He spends forever staring, taking me in. From my breasts, his gaze dips to my stomach, and then around the curve of my hips. He keeps swallowing, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. I feel a little off-kilter, too, by the time he lingers between my thighs. I can almost feel him there, kissing me until I forget everything but the sound of his name.
It’s the first time he’s seen me like this. The first time I’ve bared myself to him—shown him every inch of me. It’s a power I would have never imagined handing to my worst enemy. He could cut me down with a single phrase.
“You are,” he begins, words so gravelly they’re almost slurred. “Unbelievably beautiful, Montes. Stupidly pretty.”
I start to shake my head, but Taylor reaches for me. His touch is gentle, almost reverent as he tucks a hand beneath my jaw. This kiss is slow, his tongue soothing me until I’m sinking into his arms, held up by his touch.
His fingers trail down my throat and onto my chest. He groans when he takes my breast into his hand. “Unreal,” he whispers against my mouth, pulling back so he can watch himself play with me.
I don’t realize he’s backing up, moving us into the shallow pool until I lose my footing and he catches me around the waist.
“Will you help me with this?” he murmurs, moving my hands to his robe.
I can hear my breath hitch as he lets me pull the fabric off his shoulders.
“You’re moving awfully slow.” He chuckles, smiling down at me as I take my time pulling the robe off him inch by inch.
“Don’t ruin this for me,” I think I hear myself say.
I definitely hear him laugh when I finally tug the robe free, and my mouth drops open. Taylor is the beautiful one. I’ve seen his broad chest and narrow hips. His muscled thighs and the cut lines of his abdomen. But he’s perfect everywhere —thick and long. And already hard.
He smirks as he sinks into the water, beckoning me back into his arms. It’s the most natural thing in the world to slip onto his lap. I fit as well as I hoped I would, anchored by strong arms and hard thighs. But I keep my back stiff, trying to perch perfectly upright. If I’m not careful, I could find myself sinking onto something else . My eyes flicker to the glass door behind us, and Taylor follows my gaze.
In one swift motion, he switches our positions. Suddenly, my back is against the tiled wall and he’s standing in front of me, blocking me from view. Should anyone enter the room behind us, all they’ll see is the broad expanse of Taylor’s back.
“I wouldn’t let anyone else see you like this,” he says in a low voice. His eyes flash as they meet mine, and I think I see the hint of something possessive enter their depths. “You’re all mine, Ayla.”
I make a sound like a squeak as he pulls my hips closer to him. “It actually pisses me off,” he continues. I watch in rapture as his hands drift from my waist to the base of my spine. He cups my ass with one hand, the other rubbing circles along my outer thigh. My breathing turns ragged, hitching with every brush of his thumb between my thighs. “How many things I notice about you. It was never like this before. And now I just…can’t stop.”
He highlights the words by dragging his fingers through my slickness. I gasp as he presses against my clit, his smirk turning cruel as I make a sound like a whine.
“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to wait,” he goads. “I think you deserve a little punishment after what you’ve put me through.”
“W-what?” I manage to gasp.
“You’ve been oh-so distracting,” he drawls. Each word is timed with a caress between my curls. He’s drawing my slickness over my clit, using it against me as he sends sparks shooting behind my eyes. “With your stupid strawberry-scented shampoo, and that laugh you make when you’re caught off guard.” He cocks his head, removing his fingers so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “You know you snort, right? It’s fucking adorable.”
I let out a hissing sound, pressing myself against him in search of more friction. Taylor tweaks one of my nipples, laughing when I let out a ragged moan.
“I even like it when you roll your eyes. Especially when you roll your eyes. One day, Victor will catch you—” he cuts himself off. “Fuck that, actually. I don’t want you thinking about another man when I’m inside you.”
His finger slips between my folds, curling as if to make a point. My head falls back as his other hand reaches around my waist. I cling to his shoulders as he slides in another digit.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs. I let out a keening sound Taylor swallows with a kiss. His tongue slicks against mine, and I know I’m moaning against his mouth, writhing as he finds a rhythm inside of me.
“I wouldn’t be fucking you with my hands if we were back home,” he continues. “I’d lick you until you were screaming my name. I bet you taste amazing, Ayla. I shouldn’t tell you how many times I’ve come to the thought of trying you.”
“T-Taylor,” I pant. “Taylor, I can’t—”
“Oh, sweetheart, but you can.” Taylor is laughing softly, infinitely amused by the sounds he’s pulling out of me.
I’m putty in his hands, a live wire blazing for him alone. With his tongue in my mouth and his fingers filling me, I’m having a hard time holding on. I’m so close, so wet, and so undeniably his.
“You’re gorgeous like this,” he says, and it’s the hitch in his voice that finally does it.
I fall apart in his arms, shaking as he pumps me through the tremors. When I finally slump against his chest, he holds me tight.
“I needed that,” he says into my hair. “Needed to watch you come for me. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
I swat at Taylor’s chest, suddenly embarrassed. He has an uncanny way of looking at me like he can lay my soul bare. His attention is undivided, and all of a sudden, I’m conscious of my mussed hair and smudged makeup. I start to cover my body with my arms when Taylor clocks the motion.
Something soft passes through his eyes before he pulls his lips into a smirk. He leans down, letting his breath tickle my ear as he says, “I knew it wasn’t a fluke. You really are a screamer, aren’t you?”
His sarcasm snaps me from my discomfort. I glare up at him. “And I bet you’re a crier.”
Taylor’s smile widens. “Shall we find out?”