Chapter 17 #2
The lean puts her breasts practically under my nose, and the sight of the firm swells and dark pink nipples derails my false outrage.
She tricked me because she gives a damn about my heart. My actual, physical, medically compromised heart. This sneaky, thoroughly Ella act of care does more damage to whatever’s left of my walls than last night did.
I set the fake bacon down and lunge for her.
She shrieks as I grab her waist and pull her flat on the mattress.
The tray rattles. I don’t care. My weight pins her and the full contact of bare skin on bare skin flips the current from playful to live in one breath.
My mouth finds her neck, the hollow below her ear where her pulse kicks, and my teeth drag across the tendon.
Her shriek dissolves into a sound that vibrates through my sternum and settles in the base of my cock, which has abandoned all pretense of patience.
“Vegan bacon,” I mutter against her collarbone. “That’s grounds for eviction.”
“You can’t evict me.” Her nails rake up my back. Her hips shift under mine and the heat of her presses against where I’m hard and the contact narrows my focus to a single point. “It’s my room too.”
Her legs open beneath me and I settle between them, hard and hungry for her. She reaches up to me, sliding her fingers into my hair and pulling me down for her kiss. I’m approximately thirty seconds from fucking her right on top of the breakfast tray when someone knocks on the door.
We both freeze. My forehead drops against her shoulder. The knock comes again.
I groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I haul myself off the bed, grab the resort bathrobe from the chair, and pull it on while Ella sits up and scurries into the bathroom. I cross the suite and open the front door.
Marina from the front desk greets me on the other side with a pleasant smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Beckett. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
I glance over my shoulder and spot Ella listening from the open doorway of the bedroom, wrapped in the other bathrobe.
Her dark hair is a tangled, sexy mess and her cheeks are flushed as pink as her kiss-swollen lips.
All I can think about is getting her back in my bed to finish what we were just about to start.
I let out an impatient sigh, certain I must be scowling when I look back to Marina.
“What’s going on?” I try to sound polite, but the roughness in my voice is unmistakable.
Marina smiles again. “We have wonderful news! Another room has become available on the fourth floor. Lovely ocean-view suite. We’d be happy to move you or Ms. Manning at your convenience.”
Another room is open. The offer lands and my chest goes still. The exit I demanded six days ago is standing in front of me, waiting for an answer.
I don’t have a clean one. I know what I should want. The doctor-prescribed break from reality I’m supposed to be enjoying alone. No stress. No complications.
But that’s not what I want now. Not anymore. I want more time with Ella. More disagreements over our very different approaches to life. More walks on the beach and movies with room service in our suite. More nights together in bed and mornings with her in my arms.
Fuck. I want more than just the couple of days we have left here on this island.
As for Ella, she deserves the big suite she paid for. It’s her first real vacation. The holiday she’s been dreaming of for years. If she wants her own space now, I’ll give it to her. Hell, I’ll be on the fourth floor in two minutes if that’s what she wants.
I glance back at her again, looking for her answer. She’s the one who should decide.
She’s watching me, hesitant. She presses her lips together and I wait for her to say something. She doesn’t speak. With her eyes locked on mine, she shakes her head. Small, but certain.
The relief that pours through me should be alarming. Instead, I exhale. Nod in agreement before turning back to Marina.
“We don’t need the other room.”
“Oh?” She gives me a surprised look, then understanding dawns. “Oh! I see. Well, that’s terrific!”
“Thanks, Marina.” I’m already closing the door on her.
“Just let us know if you need anything at all,” she says as the panel snicks shut.
I swivel to look at Ella. She’s still standing at the threshold of the bedroom, staring at me in silence. Then a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
It’s all the signal I need. I cross the suite in a few strides, catching her around the waist. She yelps as I scoop her off her feet into a fireman’s hold over my shoulder.
I heave her onto the mattress near the foot of the bed, avoiding the clatter of our breakfast tray and dishes as I press down atop her.
She laughs as she falls back against the rumpled sheets. Her legs wrap around me and our kiss is unhurried and deep.
“For the record,” I say against her mouth, “the bacon was terrible.”
“For the record,” she murmurs back, pulling me closer by the collar of my robe, “you’re a terrible liar.”
She’s right. I am. I’ve been lying to myself about this woman since seat 2A. Every lie worse than the one before.
The most honest thing I’ve done in six days is close that door a moment ago.
My brain has run nonstop for thirty-four years. Right now, with Ella’s hands in my hair and her laughter dissolving into a sound that’s lower, warmer, needier against my mouth, the whole system goes quiet. Not broken. Just unnecessary when I’m with her.
I peel the bathrobe off her and break our kiss only so I can begin a slow worship of her naked body. She gasps when I press my mouth to her hip, then lower.
I glance up at her, my head wedged between her parted thighs.
“Now I’m going to make you come so hard they’ll hear you all the way down to reception.”