ChapterTwenty-Six
Rosalia
I shiver from the brisk April winds while nodding my thanks to the doorman at the Galt House.
Sebastian and I spent hours this afternoon walking the crowded Ohio River, the atmosphere reminding me of summer festivals along Detroit's riverfront, though today's company is far more captivating than any from my past. And the air show and people-watching helped shake the foreboding that had settled over me after that derby party invitation.
A giddy rush spreads through me when we reach the glass elevator. “I’m almost as excited to ride in this as I was as a kid.” I’m only half joking.
“Then I’m glad my suite is on the top floor.” He presses the button, pulls out his phone, and types on it with his back to the rising panorama of the Ohio River.
“You’re missing the view.”
“I’ve seen it before.” He keeps his gaze trained on his phone. The casual dismissal stings a little. The luxury surrounding him is nothing new, nothing special—the best hotels, cars, and restaurants are simply his baseline. How does this man whose life is so different from mine feel so right?
The mechanical voice informs us that we’ve arrived, and seconds later, the doors open. Sebastian inserts the electronic key into the door, then steps aside, gesturing for me to enter first.
Wow. His hotel room is larger and better furnished than my apartment, featuring a modern, open-floor plan with a spacious living room and kitchen.
To the left are two closed doors, which I assume lead to a bathroom and a bedroom.
In front of me is the best part: floor-to-ceiling windows that provide a view of the Louisville skyline.
I rush to the balcony and the setting sun. Opening the sliding door, I take in a four-person bistro table next to the iron railing, and a long couch with comfy looking cushions sits against the window to the suite.
Turning to Sebastian, who’s still standing inside by the sliding door, I point to the couch. “Want to sit here?”
“Definitely.” He sounds relieved. I guess cold iron chairs don’t appeal to him either.
I face the darkening sky. A cold breeze ripples my skirt and I shiver. “I’ll find some blankets,” Sebastian offers from behind me.
Spotting a door at the balcony’s far end, I nod with my chin. “I’ll check in there.”
A knock comes from inside the room. “That’s probably our food and drinks,” Sebastian tells me.
My stomach rumbles in approval. “When did you do that?” I ask .
“I set it up before we went out this afternoon.”
I’m touched by his foresight, the way he’s planned for our comfort without making a fuss about it.
I backtrack, hugging him. “You’re such a thoughtful man.” Even through our clothes, his solid warmth and the subtle scent of his cologne make my head spin.
He kisses my temple quickly before retreating into the suite. The brief contact of his lips against my skin leaves a lingering warmth that spreads across my face. I press my fingertips to my lips, shaking off the sudden flare-up of longing.
I find two fleece blankets in a closet on the balcony and drape them over the couch as a waitress enters with a rolling table, Sebastian right behind her.
“Good evening,” the woman says. “My name is Jenny, and I’ll be your concierge for the evening.
”The formal service is foreign to me, and I don’t know how to reply.
I settle for an awkward smile and turn my attention to the vast collection of plates, each one concealed beneath a shining silver dome.
“Are other people joining us?” I half-joke.
My heart dips. What if he had invited others? I want him all to myself.
“Just us.” He turns to Jenny and taps the low metal table in front of the couch. “Would you set them up here instead of the bistro?”
“Certainly.” She picks up the two cocktails. “Is your drink the Old Fashioned or Paloma, Mr. Blackstone?”
Sebastian shudders. “Definitely the Old Fashioned.” His face scrunches up at the mere mention of the fruit, and it’s endearing how this powerful man can be so dramatically disgusted by a simple fruit and herb.
I laugh while wanting to hug him. I’d ordered a Cilantro Paloma during one of our dates. Sebastian had looked aghast and had told me that grapefruit should be outlawed. Yet, he’d ordered me one this evening because he knows I love them.
After setting our table, Jenny stands by the balcony door. Sebastian tells her she can take a seat inside. If we need anything, we’ll call for her.
We sit on the couch. The cushions are chilly even through my skirt, and I pull the blanket over my shoulders. Taking a sip of my drink, I grin over the glass. “Is our concierge and my drink your subtle way of saying no kissing tonight?” I tease, surprised at my unexpected boldness.
A spark of amusement lights his eyes. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable in my hotel room. I thought having another woman here would put you at ease.” His gaze falls to my lips. “As for your drink, your honeyed kisses are enough to override the gross taste of grapefruit.”
My heart stutters at the intensity of his stare. It makes me feel exposed and exhilarated, like standing at the edge of a precipice knowing I’m about to fall but wanting to jump anyway.
I laugh and a gigantic boom swallows up the sound. For half a second, I’m certain my heart has exploded from this incredible man’s sweetness. Then, the dark sky is aglow with the first firework of the night. “Look at that,” I breathe.
In my peripheral, Sebastian nods. “They hold a little bit of childhood magic. That’s probably why they’re my favorite of the festivals. They bring back that sense of wonder.”
I shift closer. “You’re so warm.” And so much better than the blanket. He smells like heaven, though his scent makes me want to sin. Our thighs press together, and even that innocent contact sends sparks dancing across my skin.
“Are you cold?”
“Only a little.” Another firework lights up the sky, painting Sebastian’s face in blues and silvers. I look away from the display and into his eyes. “Thank you for this incredible day.”
“I should be thanking you,” he replies. “All the derby stuff has become work to me. With you, I’m reminded it’s also fun and pleasure.”
The word pleasure hangs between us, charged with meaning.
I swear the temperature rises despite the cool evening air.
An invisible force pulls me toward him with gentle insistence.
The inches between us seem to shrink, and I lean forward.
His eyes drop to my lips, and he shifts closer, his hand finding my knee.
My skin prickles with awareness, as if the air itself has become heavier with intention.
“Would either of you like another drink?” Jenny asks, as if materializing on the balcony .
I jump slightly, suddenly aware of how close we’re sitting. Sebastian blinks as if waking from a dream. He turns toward our concierge. “Yes. Two hot toddies, please.”
“Right away, Mr. Blackstone.” A few seconds later, the door clicks shut.
“Is that poor woman going to have to walk all the way to the bar on the lower level?”
Sebastian’s lips twitch. Another firework showers him in green and white, the colors playing across his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips that I can't stop thinking about. “Well, she can take the elevator. And you could use something warm. Plus, as a bonus, there won’t be grapefruit.”
I try to hold in my smile and fail. With deliberate slowness, I pluck his drink from his hand and take a sip, then swirl the drink around in my mouth, letting the smoky vanilla and caramel notes coat my tongue, the burn warming my throat and perhaps offering an extra shot of liquid courage.
I hold his gaze over the rim of the glass, watching his eyes darken as they fix on my lips, my throat, tracking the movement as I swallow. “Grapefruit’s gone.”
“Is that an invitation?” His voice has dropped to a rasp that I feel more than hear. His gaze drags over me, hot and heavy, igniting a slow burn under my skin.
“Yes.” A flash of hesitation plays across his face. Then his expression shifts from restraint to hunger, and his lips are on mine.
The kiss is deeper, more urgent than our earlier ones, as if he’s finally allowing himself to take what he wants.
I shift my legs so they’re resting over one of his thighs, allowing me to scoot closer to him.
His arm wrap around my waist, bringing me sidesaddle into his lap.
The blanket falls from my shoulders. The cool air hits my heated skin, making me shiver.
Or maybe it's the way his fingers dig into my hip, possessive and needy all at once.
I moan into his mouth, squirming against the heat blooming between my legs.
“Rosalia, if you keep moving like that, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” The curse word in his usually controlled voice sends a thrill through me. I want to push him further, see him come completely undone .
“Good,” I murmur against his lips. I shift my weight, a deliberate movement that makes his breath catch.
The sound he makes – half surprise, half pleasure – is more intoxicating than any drink.
His kisses are insistent yet unhurried, with perfect pressure and exploration.
“More, Sebastian. Touch me.” I’m pleading in a way I’d normally be embarrassed by, but I’m beyond caring.
A primal growl rumbles in his chest that makes heat pool low in my belly. He slides a palm up to my torso, taking my shirt with him.
“Mr. Blackstone,” calls the concierge from inside the hotel room. “I have your drinks, sir. Would you like them brought out to you or left inside?”
The sound of Jenny’s voice crashes through the moment like ice water.
I hide my head in Sebastian’s neck. “That’s a very tactful way of saying I have to deliver your drinks, but it’s not in my job description to see you or your girlfriend naked,” I whisper, nearly choking on the last part of my sentence.