26. Brynn #2
His truck was one of those blacked-out things that looked like it ate other trucks for breakfast. No badge on the back, no dealership sticker, nothing.
The inside was some kind of custom leather that I’d never felt in a car before in my life, all dark and clean-smelling, and the console between us had more buttons than I knew what to do with.
I’d been in nice cars before — my mother owned one.
But this truck cost more than my mother’s car, and Colton drove it the same way he did everything else. Like it was just a thing he had.
“Different car,” I said.
He glanced over. “Bentley’s for dates.”
I looked back out the window so he wouldn’t see me smile.
The ride back to his place was filled with idle conversation.
I learned a lot about him as the city lights of Vegas shifted and changed outside the window.
I learned that his first career passion had actually been teaching as well.
History, if he’d had the choice. I learned his favorite color.
His favorite Christmas traditions. I learned that he rarely celebrates his birthday, unless he travels out of town for that weekend.
I knew there was a story there as well.
But us pulling up to his building pulled me out of my reverie.
“Wow,” I whispered as I tilted my head back to look at the building.
I had walked past this tower a hundred times.
Everyone in Vegas had. It was one of those buildings you saw on the skyline and assumed was a hotel or a casino, something that belonged to the city in a general sense and not to any one person specifically.
I’d just never expected to be standing in front of it at night, about to go up in the elevator with the man who apparently owned the top floor.
The penthouse took up the entire top floor.
I knew that the second the elevator doors opened directly into the unit and I stepped out onto flooring that probably cost more per square foot than my monthly salary.
Floor to ceiling windows on three sides.
The Strip below us in every direction, all that light and noise reduced to something almost beautiful from up here, like the city had decided to behave itself just for the view.
“Come,” Colton said as he rounded around and linked my arm with his, “let me give you a grand tour.”
As he led me through the space, I found my neck swiveling at every turn. The ceilings were high enough that even Colton didn’t look oversized in here, which was saying something.
“So, this is the kitchen,” Colton said, gesturing toward the open plan kitchen off the main living area. “It’s pretty nice, as far as kitchens go.”
I gawked at the granite countertops. I marveled at the stainless steel appliances.
The floor to ceiling windows that I thought was just one of those bougie walls rich people liked to fuck against was actually a shoveable door.
Colton walked over, pressing his hand against the tinted glass, and the whole Strip opened up below us.
All that light and noise from up here was just light.
His grin shivered me to my core as he eased the door closed.
With my arm linked with his, he showed me around the main level.
Everything was a very open concept, with white walls and plush carpet with comfortable-looking furniture to match.
Despite the lushness of the property, everything inside of the home was very…
toned down. The furniture wasn’t flashy, but it looked comfortable.
The kitchen wasn’t stocked with the latest countertop appliances, but there was fresh produce and dried things properly stored just about everywhere.
The dining table was pathetic for the grand dining room, however.
I tapped my knuckles against the single barstool pulled up to the kitchen island. “We need to get you somewhere for the team to actually sit.”
I expected him to say something. Anything. But all he did was grin as he linked my arm with his and continued down the hall.
Eventually, we made our way down the hall toward the bedrooms. I couldn’t get over how everything in the penthouse seemed to suit Colton, just not the penthouse itself. Like he tried to twist and contort his life to make it look like something it wasn’t.
Something he wasn’t.
Looks like I’m not the only one with home hangups.
“And this is my room,” Colton said as he pushed open the door.
I couldn’t even help the shock that rolled over my face.
Ah. So this is where he put pride in his home.
Where the rest of the penthouse was either sparse or filled with boxes he had yet to unpack, his room was completely put together.
Pictures sat perfectly on the walls. Championship trophies dotted the walls.
His dresser. Some mounted shelves. There were ribbons and a couple of jerseys framed and hung on the wall.
Hell, his room even had something in it that smelled divine. Did he spray the room with something?
Or, was that just him?
“Is there a reason why the rest of your house doesn’t look like this?” I asked, twirling my finger around.
He smirked. “You mean, why the rest of the place isn’t covered head to toe in hockey memorabilia?”
I shook my head. “No. Why isn’t your house decorated and arranged with the same care this one is?”
He blinked, staring at me, before he offered a tepid shrug I didn’t believe. “Bedroom’s always been my comfort zone.”
I grinned. “Hey now.”
He tossed me a playful wink. “You asked.”
I snickered as I walked over to him, and he reached his arms out for me.
It was such a small gesture. One that felt rehearsed over many years together.
And yet, as his hand fell to my hip and he guided me closer to him, it felt like our bodies were made for one another.
I was just the perfect height to settle my cheek against his heartbeat.
I was just the perfect height for him to slide his leg in between mine for just a second.
Hell, I was even the perfect height for him to dip down and kiss the top of my head.
My eyes fluttered closed as I relished the warmth of his all-encompassing body.
That was until he gripped my chin and tilted my gaze up to meet his.
“You look stunning tonight,” he said as his stare slid to my lips.
And just as I drew in the smallest breath to thank him, his mouth was upon mine.