There’s Wild, Then There’s You (The Wild Ones #3)(40)
Author: M. Leighton

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that something’s wrong.

“Mr. Blevins, while the suite that Kick Records reserved for you is prepared for your arrival, there was a problem with the second room. Since it was reserved in your name and not associated with the suite, the dates were entered incorrectly, showing a vacancy when, in fact, we have none. I apologize for the inconvenience. I would be happy to make arrangements for another room, upgraded to a suite, at one of our other hotels, if that would be suitable for you and your guest.”

“So you’re saying you’d find her a room at another hotel?”

“Yes, sir. I’d be happy to.”

I look over at Violet. “It was not my intention to bring you here and leave you at another hotel all by yourself. I hope you know that.”

She wrinkles her brow. “Of course I know that.”

I turn back to the concierge. “Just cancel my suite here. I’ll get a room wherever she’ll be staying.”

“Yes, sir,” the concierge nods.

“Wait,” Violet says, putting her hand on my arm. “Don’t do that just because of me. I don’t mind staying somewhere else. Kick put you here, so you should stay here.”

“Absolutely not. If you can’t stay here, then I won’t stay here either. We will be staying at the same hotel.”

“Well . . . you have a suite. How many rooms does it have? I mean, how many beds?”

I look to the concierge, who is discreetly observing our interaction. He glances at the computer screen. “Sir, the suite reserved for you is a two-bedroom.”

“Great!” Violet exclaims. “If you don’t mind I’ll just take the other bedroom. Unless you were expecting company.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief and her grin says she’s teasing. God, how I’d love to cart her upstairs and watch that grin turn into a soft smile followed by a long, luxurious moan.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I mean, are you sure?” I wonder if she gets that my question is about so much more.

She meets my eyes, hers smoky and sexy, and she holds them. Calm. Steady. Resolute. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She doesn’t look away. She just watches me. I can see that she knows exactly what she’s signing up for. She’s ready. And so am I, as witnessed by the blood that rushes south. I grit my teeth against the sensation.

Hating to look away, but needing to, I glance back to the concierge and nod. He smiles and taps furiously on the keyboard. A minute later, something is printing and he’s slipping two credit card-looking room keys into an envelope with the hotel logo on the front and our suite number scribbled on the flap.

“The elevators are directly behind you. Insert your card and press the S1 button. That will give you access to the suite’s floor. I’ll have your bags sent up straight away, sir.”

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“If there is anything else we can assist you with, please don’t hesitate to ask. We are here to serve your needs.”

I smile and nod, thinking to myself as I guide Violet to the elevators that the only thing I need right now is the girl at my side. Naked. And wet. And begging for me.

I try to focus on mundane things as the elevator rises. Neither Violet nor I speak until I am unlocking the door to our room and holding it open for her. Although she doesn’t say much, I can tell that she’s impressed.

“This is . . . this is very nice,” she remarks. I smile from behind her. It is a very nice suite, which is great. But I’m a guy. This is hardly the kind of thing I get excited about. Seeing Violet’s reaction, however, pleases me. I like seeing pleasure on her face—any kind of pleasure, although I’m very much looking forward to seeing a better kind of pleasure there. But for now, I’ll take this.

We stroll through the expensive accommodations. From the lavishly appointed living room and dining room combination to the master bedrooms on either end, this unit oozes quiet money.

“Which is which?” she asks as she comes out of the en suite bathroom of the room to the right of the foyer.

“I don’t think it really matters. You can take whichever one you like best.”

She smiles up at me. “Are you always this agreeable?”

“I can be. I can be even more agreeable than this in the right circumstances.”

Her laugh is light and airy, like she’s a little breathless. That, along with practically everything else she has said and done since lunch, is tearing me up inside.

“In that case, I’ll take the other one. I think I like the colors in there better.”

“Whatever makes you feel good,” I reply. I’m a fraction of a second away from giving in to my urge to touch her when a knock sounds at the door.

With a sigh of frustration, I clench my fingers into fists. Rather than putting my hands on Violet, like I was about to, I move to open the door.

It’s the bellhop, bringing our two bags. “Where would you like them, sir?”

“I’ll take this one,” I state, lifting my duffel from the hook of his fingers. “The other one goes in there,” I explain, tipping my head toward the first bedroom.

He nods, taking Violet’s bag into the room she chose. I wait for him to reemerge so that I can tip him and send him on his way.

“Thank you, sir,” he says with a nod as he accepts my folded bill. I nod in return and shut the door behind him.

The unwelcome interruption was exactly what I needed to get my head back in the right place.

I glance at my watch and turn to Violet.

“I guess it’s about time for me to leave you to get ready. We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we need to head downstairs.”

I don’t know if Violet’s eyes actually show me that she’s disappointed, too, or if it’s just my imagination. “I guess I need to head for the shower then,” she says, swinging her arms like she’s waiting on something.

I can’t resist one more poke. “Unless you need some help in there. I’d gladly put them off for a couple of hours if your back needs washing.”

Violet’s smile is slow and sexy as hell. “I think I can manage this one by myself.”

She keeps her eyes on mine as she backs away. In my head, her expression is filling in what was left unsaid.

But maybe later.

Later can’t come soon enough.

THIRTY-ONE: Violet

It’s unnerving, knowing that Jet is just a few feet away while I’m standing under the spray of warm water, completely naked. Every inch of my skin is super sensitive. It’s not hard for me to close my eyes and imagine his soapy hands on me, gliding smoothly all over my body. In fact, I’m so involved in those thoughts as I wash with my own lathered hands that I jump guiltily when Jet knocks at the bathroom door.