Chapter 20 #2
The shower water stung at first, but heat eased the aching, and I lingered in it long enough to feel guilty.
There’s something about clean hair that makes things better.
I pulled the towels off the door and wrapped one around my hair, the other around me the best I could.
Apparently Vegas hotel towels were designed for models who didn’t eat.
Steam buffeted out as I stepped onto the bathmat.
The bathroom’s sliding door was open, and Wald was leaning against the doorframe. He had sunglasses on.
“You take a long shower, Tails.” His lips turned up on one side as his gaze locked onto the gape in the towel.
“You were watching?” I tucked the towel tighter.
“Easy there. I would never invade your personal space without your permission.” He came toward me, and my heart did flip-flops.
“Let me see the wound.” His accent turned it erotic. The size of him enveloped the space between the bed and the bathroom door. He reached for my towel but his hand hovered waiting for me to act.
I let the towel slide to the floor. Wald’s head dipped.
Behind his glasses, golden eyes roved from my toes to my tits.
I shifted under the scrutiny, then grabbed his hand, pressing it against my side.
My heart danced the salsa as his fingers probed the edges of the bandage.
The delicacy of his touch countered the strength of his hands sliding over my skin.
In one smooth rip, he peeled the leaves off, and I almost came.
“It looks very good.” His ragged voice scraped against my ability to remain standing.
“Just good?” It came out as a breathy squeak.
“Even better than I ever dreamed.” He trailed fingers across my stomach, sending a tremor down to my thighs. Electricity arced between them. God, I wanted him.
I pressed a palm against his satiny chest and slid it up to his neck, tugging his head down to my level.
“We should get on our way,” he whispered.
“Maybe later,” I teased, my lips a hair’s breadth away from his.
His tongue darted out, and I caught it between my teeth, then let it go.
“Didn’t I mention…”
“Not to bite you unless I meant it?”
The kiss exploded, and he walked me back, so his hands caged me against the wall as his mouth devoured mine. His hands explored all my exposed surfaces like he was unwrapping a hundred birthday presents.
I was undoing his belt buckle when he pulled back. “We can’t,” he panted, dipping his head. I glowed that he was out of breath for me.
“Oh no, we absolutely can,” I replied, tilting his chin upward with one finger.
“You are going to be my death.” He laced kisses up the side of my neck.
“But my wants are unimportant right now. You’ll have to take my promise that we will continue this—later.
Unfortunately, I arranged a car, and it is waiting for us.
Please get dressed,” he said, stepping back and nodding at the catsuit on the bed.
Before I could protest, he disappeared into the bathroom with a bundle of clothes and slid the door closed.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop six degrees.
I half wanted to barge into the bathroom and keep things going, but his promise lingered.
Reeling from what had almost happened but didn’t, I hastily dressed, cursing every fricking moment about damp skin and spandex-laced silk.
The ows and ouches mostly coming from pulling the shoulders up over the bruises on my rib cage. The scab wasn’t even hurting.
I didn’t bother with the bra. It was going to hurt more to put it on, and the tightness of the suit, which if I was being honest was one size on the small side, kept my bits in place.
The effect was very nice. I buckled the skirt over the top, wondering if Britannia had a jacket, or sweater, or something.
I padded to the closet, but the bags inside were zipped.
“Ready?” Wald asked, emerging from the bathroom with the sunglasses off. His golden eyes scraped up my legs to the enhanced cleavage, and a smile blossomed.
“Any time you are,” I said with a slow seductiveness, playfully fingering the front edge of the low cut suit.
“I wish. You’ll have to hold on to that thought,” he replied, unzipping a duffel and tossing me a leather jacket that reeked of Britannia’s pear perfume.
The doorbell chimed. With one hand on the door handle, Wald put on sunglasses. He handed me a pair. “There’s an extra in your jacket. Try not to lose them,” Wald whispered as the bellman hauled our bags out.
“What’s the box for?” the young man asked, hefting the weight of the metal.
“Magician’s trick. Don’t ask for secrets,” Wald replied flatly, shutting the questions down. He helped the bellman heft it out the door and onto the cart. It would only fit on its side.
The waiting car was similar to the one we’d stolen but a rental. With the valet holding the door, I slid into the passenger seat, trying to be chic but tweaking the damned ribs. I yelped, holding my side.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” the valet, a wiry, brown- skinned guy who could be a top tier model, asked with wide-eyed concern.
“Yes, fine, sorry. Old war injury.” I beamed at him, gingerly patting my sore chest as he shut the door.
His expression was mild horror. He glanced at Wald, and I realized what he thought he was seeing.
Before I could tell him the bruises weren’t from Wald beating me, Wald got into the car and slammed it into gear, pulling out of the covered entry like we were late for something.
“Where are we going?” I asked, pushing up the glasses and craning my neck to look at the landmarks.
“LA,” he said, turning onto the strip.
The sun, thankfully, was beginning to set. A police car whizzed by, and I slid down in the seat, my heart racing as Wald navigated to the I-15. I had his promise, and this wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot.