“But clothes?” Carson continues, still looking like he doesn’t know whether to scratch his watch or check his ass. Dumbass.
“Fitness apparel,” I correct him. “Now can we talk about what y’all are going to do while I’m gone? Mya said we shouldn’t be gone longer than a few days.”
“Meeting with the contractors day after tomorrow,” Benji tells me, looking up. “Fletch is going to L.A to check out the sound equipment we need, and Carson here,” he slaps Carson on the back, “is staying with me.”
Carson looks put out, and I know he would have preferred to go to L.A with Fletch, but I need both him and Benji here while I’m gone. Carson is, after all, good with his hands, and Benji has decided we won’t have all the work contracted out. We like getting our own hands dirty, too. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was me, Dad and Ryan who built the original barn, and the thought of revamping it for something I love excites me.
“So, Thorin,” Fletch stands, holding Eli in his arms, “is Mya going with y’all, or…”
I roll my eyes, and pour myself another cup of coffee. I’m about to tell him to stay the fuck away from her—she’s Reese’s best friend, and something between the two of them just spells d-r-a-m-a—when the front door opens, and Mya herself walks in. Raven hair braided to one side, dressed in jeans, boots and a sweater, she shifts her glasses up her nose. “Boys.” She smiles, glancing briefly at Fletch, who immediately has googley eyes, and then looks at me. “There’s been a slight change of plans, Thor.”
Ugh. Ever since she overheard Fletch call me that, she’s taken upon herself to do the same. It irritates me, and I’m willing to bet on my new truck that she’s well aware of how it gets under my skin. Don’t get me wrong, I like Mya, she’s obviously been a good friend to Reese, and has a brain for business, but her dark brown eyes are always glistening with mischief. Which is probably why Fletch is suddenly so taken by her.
“What do you mean a change of plans?”
“Alex hasn’t told you yet?”
My brows furrow. “No.” I check my phone, noting that there’s been no calls or texts from Alex.
“Well,” Mya slaps her hands together, “turns out the building where your penthouse is has a mold problem, which means you’ll be staying at the hotel with me and Reese.” Her smile changes from sweet to roguish, and with it, my gut falls out my ass because I know what’s coming. “And you’ll have to share with Reese.”
Well, fuck.
Chapter Fourteen
Reese
“What do you mean you only have a suite with one bed left?” I ask the concierge at reception. We’re in the lobby at the Waldorf, having landed over an hour ago. The drive from JFK was longer than expected due to construction, which already has me riled me up. Now, the guy at reception is telling me the only room left available is a suite with one bed. This wouldn’t be a problem if it was just me, but it’s not. Mya booked herself a single room after Thorin told her Eli and I would spend the week in his penthouse, but that also changed because Thorin’s penthouse building is supposedly under quarantine for a suspected mold infestation. Alex confirmed it yesterday.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but the hotel is fully booked for the next two weeks, and all we have left is a suite with a queen-sized bed,” the guy says, not looking the least bit apologetic. “We can have a basinet sent up, though.”
I grit my teeth, and contemplate going to another hotel, but it’s really late, the Waldorf is the most central for us, and after a difficult flight with Eli, I don’t have the energy to look for another place to stay. Thank God we ate on the plane, one less thing for me to stress about. Thorin looks just as displeased, but also not surprised (weird), like he knew about this already, and that only adds to my frustration. I don’t want to share a room with him anymore than he wants to share one with me, but if he knew about this then why didn’t he mention it? Still, we’re out of options now.
“Fine,” I sigh, handing over my credit card. “We’ll take it.”
He smiles, and all I want to do is punch him. He should not look so damn chipper. Then again, the only one freaking out about all this is me, even if I’m trying not to make it that obvious. He hands me back my card. “We’ll have a porter deliver your luggage. The room is ready for you.”
“Great,” I mutter, snatching my card back. With Eli strapped to his chest, Thorin follows me to the bank of elevators, and one the way up to our floor he’s silent. But his expression tells me everything I need to know. He’s one unhappy rockstar. Maybe if I’d told them who I was with they’d have made other plans, but hell will freeze over before I use Thorin’s notoriety to get a damn thing. Lucky for us, the suite itself is big, but it’s the queen-size bed that sticks out like a sore thumb. A few minutes later, a porter arrives with our luggage, and a basinet. If he recognizes Thorin, he doesn’t say anything, but judging by the wad of cash Thorin hands over, I’m guessing he’s silently being asked to keep Thorin’s presence at the hotel under wraps. So far, we’ve been able to stay under the radar, Thorin went so far as to book us first class tickets because there’s more privacy, and a lesser chance of him being recognized. To his credit, it actually worked. I want to save all the publicity for when my fitness apparel line and fitness app are ready for launch, and being heckled by the paparazzi now isn’t my idea of a good time. Eli starts fussing, but Thorin has spent enough time with him to know what to do so while he gets the little man settled, I scope out the rest of the suite. One bathroom, one bed, a small living room area with plush couches, and a perfect view of Park Avenue and the surrounding buildings. You wouldn’t think it’s beautiful, considering we’re surrounded by skyscrapers, but at night, with all the lights on, and the bustling street below, it is actually quite stunning. I spy the couch again, and do a mental calculation of Thorin’s size. He should fit.
“You can take the couch,” I say, opening up Eli’s bag, and taking out his bottle, formula and bottle warmer. I think he has more luggage than Thorin and I do. We considered leaving him in Texas, and having Maggie look after him, but by some giant fucking miracle, Thorin and I agreed that we have to learn to fit Eli in with our work schedules. We can’t leave him with Maggie every time we have to travel, or hand him off to someone else when we have to work. Those are just not the type of guardians we want to be, and we’re lucky to both have flexible schedules, at least until Thorin goes on tour again.
Thorin snorts, “No way,” and carries Eli to the bathroom. He runs the bath, testing the temperature, and then lays Eli down on the bed to undress him. For a moment I’m caught up in how naturally Thorin does his thing with Eli, the gentleness he uses to maneuver him out of his clothes, and the way his voice softens when he speaks to him. It’s so not the time for my ovaries to take notice, but they do. Inconvenient things, ovaries. Like why, just why!
“We’re not sharing a bed,” I tell his back, following him into the bathroom with Eli’s bath stuff. Even when we argue, we have this weird way of being in sync with Eli. He kneels down, and slowly lowers Eli into the water. “You can take the couch, Reese. You’re smaller than I am, I’m sure you’ll be comfortable.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.”
Rather than responding, he focuses on bathing Eli, and I throw my hands up, leaving the bathroom completely defeated after this day. Whatthefuckever, Universe, okay? You win.
I shoot a text to Mya, explaining what’s happened, and like the good friend she is, she replies with have fun with that ;).
“Great,” I mutter to myself. “Some friend you are.” I shake my head. I wouldn’t be surprised if she orchestrated this whole thing. If only. No, this is just shitty luck because, apparently, I haven’t reached my quota of shitty luck yet. I move my bag into the bedroom just as Thorin comes out. Eli is dressed in his itty-bitty pj’s, and without preamble, I go about making him a bottle real quick, taking him from Thorin. While I get Eli fed, and ready for bed, Thorin takes a quick shower, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint I c
an muster not to think about all that muslcey, wet, nekidness. It’s a struggle, but I focus on Eli, and once I’ve burped him, I rock him to sleep. I lay him in the basinet on my side of the bed, and unpack a few things for my own shower. Thorin walks out, wearing nothing but grey boxer briefs, his dry hair hanging over his shoulders, and I scowl, stomping past him and locking myself in the bathroom. I step under the hot spray, and allow the tension to leave my shoulders, my back, my legs. I wash my hair, taking extra long just to avoid having to leave the bathroom, and when I’ve dried my long tresses, lathered every inch of my skin with moisturizer, I have no choice but to walk into the bedroom. And find Thorin splayed on the side I’d already, technically, claimed. His arm is behind his head, his lower half covered by the duvet. He eyes me, and I feel his gaze travel down the length of my body. I’m in my favorite silk pajama set—spaghetti strap camisole, and shorts. I should have opted for more coverage, but if Thorin is so intent on making himself comfortable, then why shouldn’t I? Of course, my nipples choose that moment to harden, the peaks poking at the silk covering my breasts. With a huff, I ignore the way Thorin watches me, throw back the covers and climb in next to him, immediately giving him my back without so much as a ‘goodnight’. This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, right? Wrong. Because when Thorin switches off his bedside lamp, and gets real comfortable, I’m about an inch from falling off the bed. Splayed on his back, he takes up three-quarters of the damn mattress.
“Can you move over?” I whisper-hiss, glaring at him from over my shoulder. “Or at least roll onto your side? I barely have any space.”
The mattress dips, and then Thorin’s hot breath hits the back of my head, sending shivers down my spine. Because that’s just super convenient right now.
“Better?” He whispers.
The warmth of his body hits my back, but instead of asking him to face the other direction—because at this point, we’re playing big spoon-little spoon—I let out a breath, and close my eyes, praying that I’ll make it through tonight unscathed. I’ll worry about how this is going to work for the next few days tomorrow.
The first thing that registers is how warm I feel, the second is that I’m plastered to Thorin’s side, my leg thrown over his thigh and the morning wood brushing against my inner leg. The third is that Thorin’s big, muscular arm is around my waist, his hand cupping my bare ass beneath my silk night shorts. I vaguely recall him getting up a few hours ago to feed Eli, but I certainly wasn’t wrapped about him like I am now. My pulse starts to race a little faster, my heart trying to break free from my chest. But Thorin’s pulse, conveniently situated under my ear, is steady, and strong, and I realize he must still be asleep. I didn’t exactly factor this into how our situation could get worse, but I should have because this is so not good. I shift, becoming painfully aware of how hard my nipples are, and when I try to move my leg, Thorin’s grip tightens, and his dick…well, if it’s possible, it gets harder. My body freezes, my ears perking up at any indication that Thorin is awake, and not just dreaming. I try to move again, but instead of moving away, my leg moves and the heat of Thorin’s skin burns between my legs. As if responding to the most natural thing in the world, my hips start moving, and my breathing falters when my pulse travels down between my thighs. Worst possible time to be turned on, but in my mind the rationale is that I haven’t had a man touch me intimately since college.
Thorin moves, and before I can push him away or object, he rolls me over and settles between my legs. He watches me with stormy, almost-cobalt blue eyes, and I have to wonder if he’s still dreaming, or maybe he just thinks I’m someone else. Either would be preferable.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my hands clutched together between us.
“It’s either this, or you keep rubbing yourself on me, Reese Pie.” His voice is so much sexier than I imagined, and sadly, I’ve always wondered what his voice sounds like first thing in the morning. It’s already deep, and throaty, but now there’s an extra layer of sleepy rasp that has my body on full-alert.
“A-and,” I blink once, twice, “this seemed like the better option to you? Why not just push me off? Or better yet, wake me up before I make a fool of myself?” Because yes, I feel totally and utterly foolish. And embarrassed.
“Can’t blame me for wanting to know what you feel like.” He says it simply, like duh, of course this is the better option, but the inflection in his voice has me believing he really wanted to know. This is dangerous territory for both of us, it can and will complicate things, and for the record, since when should not sleeping with Thorin be on my list of things to worry about? It shouldn’t, but damn if I’m not curious now. His broad body dwarfs mine, my hands itch to travel the expanse of his neck, his traps, his glorious shoulders, and biceps, and every curve that makes up the valley of his back. I used to wonder what he looked like naked when we were in high school, when he filled out and became the embodiment of every high school girl’s dream, but this is wildly different because he was a boy then. Now, he’s all man, and adult Reese realizes she’s in over her head. Not that teenage Reese felt any differently when it came to the boy she pined after. My phone rings next to bed, making me jolt.
“I’d better get that.”
Thorin smirks like what’s happening is no big deal—bastard— and rolls off me, taking perch on his side of the bed. With trembling fingers, I answer my phone.
“Hello?”
“Did you just wake up?” Mya asks. I can practically hear her laughing at me.
Not exactly, but there’s no way I can ever tell her what just happened. Not that I’m convinced I didn’t imagine it all to begin with. “Yes,” I lie. “What’s up?”
“Get dressed, and meet me downstairs for breakfast. We have to be at the studio in a little over an hour.”
“Okay. We’re doing mostly clothes today, right?”
“Yes, I sent Thorin’s measurements the day before yesterday so they should have samples we can we do a photoshoot with.” I blow a strand of hair from my face. “Will they have enough for the product launch? We only have a few weeks, and this is the only chance we have to get it all ready.”
“Relax, everything’s just about ready. We just have final fittings for you today, and if they have no problems with Thorin’s sizes, the men’s range will be ready just before the launch. Then, we having a meeting with the tech company so they can add the men’s workouts, but that’s tomorrow, I think.”
Nerves take hold of every fibre of my being, and not only because this is all a dream come true, but also because Thorin is now part of that dream and it’s not a place I ever envisaged him being. Not that I envisioned him in my future at all. “Reese, you still there?”
I shake my head, exhaling loudly. “Yeah, I’m here,” I pause, wondering if I should tell Mya about this morning. Then I think better of it because Mya will have mine and Thorin’s wedding planned in a heartbeat. “I just can’t believe it’s all finally happening,”
She hums. “Is that all it is? You sound tired. Everything go okay last night?”
I glance over my shoulder and see Thorin feeding Eli. “Aside from having to share a bed with the God of Thunder? Everything’s just freakin’ peachy, Mya.”
She giggles. “I want the details, you hussy.”
“There are no details,” I grumble. Not the whole truth, but Mya would have a field day finding out I woke up rubbing myself all over Thorin. Better keep that shit to myself. “He took up most of the bed, I almost slept on the damn floor.”
Not the floor, I remind myself, but definitely on his body.
“Hmmm, I’m sure he would have let you crash on the floor, Reese Pie.” The sarcasm with this one is heavy, folks.
“He’s a brute, and best you remember this is a business transaction,” I tell her. “I have to get ready, but we’ll meet you downstairs in a few.”
I click end to the sound of her laughter. Best friends can be a pain in the ass sometimes, especially mine. I brush her no
siness aside and get ready for my day. I dress Eli while Thorin changes, and we make our way downstairs for breakfast in what feels like silence. Except the air crackles, and sizzles arounds us like a living thing, and I’m so strung, I might as well be a walking live wire. Not that Thorin notices. He’s Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected, lapping up some attention he gets from guests who stop to fawn over Eli. Thorin’s smile is genuine, but also filled with pride and love. When we get to the table, Mya’s already munching on a croissant, and scrambled eggs and bacon, tapping away on her iPad Pro. She smiles, but whatever pleasantries she’s exchanging with Thorin goes unnoticed by yours truly. I fix a bowl of granola and yogurt, and listen when Mya gives us the run-down of today’s itinerary. Forty-minutes later, we’re catching an Uber to the studio in the Garment district, where my clothes are being made. Tasha, the head designer, is there to greet us, and after a few minutes of chatting, she sets us straight to work. Mya takes Eli, straps him to her chest, and moves to where the photographer is setting up. Thorin is sent to one part of the studio, and I’m sent to another. People start helping me change, choosing which items will be photographed first, and as soon as I have a moment of reprieve, I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m not tall, but what I lack in height, I make up for with strong shoulders and arms, a trim waist that took a good three years to achieve, and muscular legs that are still very feminine. The powder pink, high-waist fleur texture leggings hug my stomach, and accentuate the curvature of a body I made, and the matching sports bra gives my breasts a little extra va-va-voom in the cleavage department. We had to get the nylon-polyester-elastine ratio just right with all of the items I wanted, going for both comfort and breathability. I’m all for working up a good sweat, but I don’t like ‘sweat spots’, hence having material that breathes. I smile at my own reflection, and resist the urge to do a fist-pump in the air because after months of hard work—researching the right designers and manufacturers—I’m ready to give my fans my absolute labor of love. I want them to feel as good about themselves as I do right now. The curtain opens abruptly, and I spin around. Mya grins. “Girl, you are slaying that outfit. If I had a dick, it’d be hard right now.”
Under The Same Sky (Horseshoe Bay Book 1) Page 14