“I’ll help in the morning, too. Right now, I want to close my eyes on this night from hell.” Lauralynn hugs Cherie. “Happy birthday, C. Love you.” She turns back to Gabby. “G.”
With that, Lauralynn walks out.
Cherie sighs loudly, stands to hug Gabby. “I’m beat, too. Call if you need anything. Or not. My mom still has my purse which has my phone.”
“We put your purse in your room,” I say.
“Oh. Thank you.” Cherie looks at me before stepping in front of Jesse. She takes his hands. “I wouldn’t blame you if hate me.”
“Aw, baby, I could never hate you.” Jesse lifts one of her hands, kisses it. When he hugs her, he challenges me over her shoulder. “You’re the sweetest thing I know. I just want you to be safe and happy.”
He kisses her neck before letting her go. Back to being jealous, my beast wants to rip his lips off.
Reed apparently has the urge to touch my girl as well.
“Hey, kiddo.” Reed wraps his arms around Cherie. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry your party got ruined. My sister can be a class-A bitch when she puts her mind to it.”
“Jesus, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Gabby closes her eyes, tilts her head back.
“Thousands,” Jesse mumbles.
More like millions, kid.
Cherie pulls away from Reed, walks to the door, turns as she opens it. “Goodnight, guys.” The door closes behind her.
“You really hurt her, Gabby,” I say.
“I’m sorry, Vic,” she whines.
I shrug. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. The damage is done.”
“Cherie will be okay,” Jesse says. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Like hell you will.
“We’ll all will make sure of it,” Reed says. “You, too, sis.” He playfully yanks on his sister’s hair.
Gabby’s eyes tear up. Aw, hell.
I move over to her, squeeze her shoulder. “He’s not worth it, cuz.” I kiss the top of her head.
“Well that’s obvious. It still hurts, though.”
I polish off my drink, and leaving Gabby with her brother and Jesse, I say goodnight.
At the elevator, I push the call button. While I wait, a door down the hall opens. I hear my girl’s voice from inside the room.
“Night, Amber.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her friend appears in the doorway with Cherie.
“I will be. Let’s just get G through this,” Cherie says.
The girls hug. The door closes and, with her head down, my girl slowly strolls my way. Her sad body language breaks my heart.
The elevator arrives. I put my arm in the door to hold it, waiting for her. Cherie still hasn’t looked up. When she does, she stops, stares at me.
The light in her eyes is gone – that happy glimmer that lit up the whole world tonight has disappeared thanks to fucking Gabby. Cherie has shut down and I wonder if I’m backed up to square one, or even farther back.
“Going down?” I murmur.
Taking a deep breath, she walks the final ten steps into the elevator.
I reach out for her.
“No, I can’t.” Cherie closes her eyes, presses flat to the wall.
“Yes, you can. You will.” I wrap my girl in my arms, rub her back, but she doesn’t relax. If anything, her body stiffens more. She pushes at my chest, turns her head away.
I grip her chin, tip her head back to look into her face. Once more, her eyes fill with tears.
“You look like hell,” I say with a small smile, trying humor. It works a little. One corner of her mouth goes up ever so slightly.
She sniffles. “I’m an ugly crier. Snot and everything.”
“Nothing about you is ugly.” I caress her stained cheek.
She grunts. “I think my actions tonight say otherwise.”
“Since when is being happy an ugly thing?”
“When it hurts someone else.”
At least she doesn’t deny being happy. She was ecstatic for a few hours tonight.
“Did you see Jesse’s face?” She says.
“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it. Trust me, all you hurt was his pride.”
A big tear escapes, making another track through the blotches of mascara. She puts a soft hand on my cheek. “What if I do it to you?”
That’s what she’s afraid of?
“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take.” I lean into her palm, kiss it. “But I’m confident that you won’t. You can’t possibly believe the shit Gabby spewed in anger. I won’t let you.”
“You won’t let me believe something?” She drops her hand, turns to stare at the elevator door. “God, can you be any more arrogant.”
“I prefer the term audacious.” I smirk. That elicits another slight upturn of her sweet mouth.
“Audacious and arrogant,” she says.
“That’s me.”
The elevator opens on three. Cherie sighs. “My keycard is in my purse.”
“No problem.” Unlocking my door, I touch her back to guide her in.
The door closed behind her, I press her lightly to it to kiss her.
“Victor, don’t.” She turns her head.
I caress the cheek closest to me. “It kills me that you’re hurting. It kills me even more that you won’t lean on me.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Please let me help you, sweetness.”
“Right now, I just need to wash away the mascara that’s burning my eyes and follow that with a goodnight’s sleep.”
“Done.” I kiss her nose again. With a smile, I take her hand, gently tug her toward my bathroom.
Heels dug into the carpet, she resists. “I mean alone. I need to be alone tonight. We need a break, Victor.”
“No, we don’t. I don’t.”
“I do.” She tries to take her hand back.
I’m torn. Do I hang on, make her talk to me, or give her the space she wants?
Swallowing hard, I let her hand go. Cherie moves to the connecting door.
“I’m right here if you need me,” I murmur.
Without looking back, she nods, steps through to her room.
“Happy birthday,” I say.
“Thank you,” she whispers. She closes and locks the door – I flinch at the sound. The sound confirming that hanging on was the better answer.
Fuck. This is not how this evening was supposed to end.
Slowly, I take off my clothes and hang them up. Standing in the bathroom in my boxers, I mechanically brush my teeth, rinse and spit. I slide into the cold bed, turn off the light. I lay down, trying to see the ceiling through the dark. My thoughts and second guessing make sleep impossible.
The click of that lock sounded far too much like a finality. Abandoning Operation Romance now is the worst thing I can do. I’ve got to stem the distance that she’s creating in her mind. All giving her space does is allow her to retreat into self doubt. She’s hurting. Why the fuck am I letting her hurt alone?
I switch on the light, pick up the phone, pulling on pajama pants as I talk. “I need a bowl of sliced cucumbers sent to my room, right away. Nothing on them, just pure cucumber. Thanks.”
After room service delivers my request, I crack my door, wait until I hear the staff elevator ding and close. Then, taking the cucumber and my iPod, I knock on Cherie’s external door.
I see her eyeball in the peephole, and hold up one cucumber slice. She cracks the door.
“Victor, what are doing?”
“Tending to your eyes.”
She holds out her hand for the bowl. I pull it out of her reach.
“Uh, uh, sweetness. Let me in.”
Yell, scream, cry, just don’t shut me out.
Seething, she opens the door. Face washed, hair pulled back, she’s wearing pajama pants with a tank top.
“What part of ‘break’ don’t you understand?” She says.
“Break as in crack? Hole? Opening?” Speaking of opening, I take it — barging into her room.
“Or break as in advantage, getting lucky — a big break type of meaning?”
“Great. Now you’re a fucking thesaurus.” She lets the door close.
I laugh. “That’s the second time I’ve heard you say the f-word. I love the way you say it.” I point to the bed. “Now fucking lie down.”
A hand on a hip, she defies me. “I can put cucumbers on my own eyes.”
My face inches from hers, I say, “Lie the fuck down on your back.”
“And if I don’t?”
The tank top she has on is very clingy, showing the soft puff of her areola surrounding her nipples. Sexy in and of itself, more so given how sensitive I know them to be. I let my eyes roam down her face to her mouth over her throat stopping to rest on her delicious tits. Her nipples peak damn near instantly from my stare. Despite this stare-down being a challenge to her, my body responds to hers.
“Then, I might change tactics and tend to some other parts of your anatomy I know relaxes you.”
Irritated, she attempts to cover herself with her arms. “Touching those doesn’t relax me.”
A lascivious smile, I lean in closer. “I know. But what comes after always has you purring like a kitten.”
Fuck. My cock needs to calm down and get with the program. This is about Cherie’s mental health not her very fuckable body.
Cherie leans away from me. I lean in enough to make her bow her back, until she has to take a step back. I step forward. She takes another step back, bumps her legs on the bed and falls back.
“Perfect,” I say.
“God, you are so arrogant.”
“Don’t forget audacious.” I lightly press a kiss to her lips. “Lean back. Close those beautiful baby blues.”
She does, sighing when I place a cucumber on each swollen eyelid.
“Feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” she hisses out.
Setting the rest of the bowl in her mini-fridge, I pop my iPod into her dock. I select a soft 80s play list, turn it low before hitting play. Bryan Adams spills out of the speaker.
“Love songs?” She says.
“Sleep songs.” I lift her further onto the bed, position myself against the headboard. Resting her head in my lap, I gently massage her head and the back of her neck. All the while, I enjoy the view of her tits rising and falling — slower now.
A few songs later, I flip over the cucumbers, move my massage to her shoulders and upper back. Cherie sighs — a deep, purging, cathartic sound.
“Thank you, Victor,” she mumbles.
“For what, mi ninfa?” I whisper.
“For this. For the party. It really was wonderful.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“I loved it,” she murmurs sleepily. “I can’t believe you did all that for me.”
I lightly kiss her forehead. “You’re worth it.”
Just a few minutes more, she’s sound asleep, trying to turn onto her stomach. Carefully, I remove the cucumbers from her eyes, slip out from under her. I unlock her side of the connecting door, turn off the music. Crawling into bed with her, I switch off the bedside light.
Cherie has plugged in a nightlight by the closet. Good idea. I can watch her sleep until my eyelids get heavy.
chapter thirty-two
VICTOR HOLDS ME so tight, it actually hurts. Or maybe it’s just my head that’s pounding. I move my leg that’s resting over his, and lift my head.
Ow.
Affirmative. It’s my head. Water. I need water. I attempt to pull away from him and he just squeezes tighter.
I try the tickle trick. He grins in his sleep which is kind of cute. More importantly, though, he moves one arm. That allows me to slip off his chest.
“Are you going running?” He whispers.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He gathers me so that I’m laying back on him. “I’m glad you did. It’s nice to wake up with you for a change, especially nice with you on top.” He grins, eyes still closed. He runs a hand down my back to my behind. “You’re so soft.” He kisses the top of my head. “So, are you going running?”
“No. I don’t think my head could handle it this morning.”
He opens his eyes. “Fuck. You’re not used to alcohol. I should have had you take aspirin last night. Sorry, peaches.”
I turn to rest my chin on his chest and look up at him. “Why are you sorry? Did my mom hire you as my keeper?”
“Self designated.” He grimaces. “And your eyes are still swollen.” He gets up.
I swing my legs over to get up, too.
“Stay,” he says.
“I have to use the facilities.” After I pee, I brush my teeth. Every movement sends searing pain from the top of my head down. And my eyes look like I’ve been in a prize fight and did a poor job blocking.
Back in the bedroom, Victor hands me two aspirin and a bottled water. I pop the pills in my mouth and drink the entire bottle — taking my time, because he’s almost naked and hot. His hair is all askew and he has sexy morning stubble. I reach out to scratch it with a fingernail. His breath catches and his eyes darken.
His reaction to my touch is better than any aphrodisiac. I move my hand to his chest. I can feel his heart beat fast and hard under my hand. I slide my palm to the side so I can kiss his chest there.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs.
Emboldened, I let my fingers continue down his abs of steel. Something else gets hard as my finger goes lower, following that sexy thin line of body hair from navel to the waistband of his boxers.
He grabs my hand, chuckling. “Sweetness, your head can’t handle that this morning either.”
I smile. “I’d be willing to try.”
He smirks, kisses me. “Later — if you’re a good girl. ” He gets the bowl of cucumbers from the fridge and then indicates a club chair
“Chair. Eyes closed. Head back.”
“Yes, Mr. Santana.”
“Are you still flirting with me?” He grins.
“Yes. Is it working?”
Though the tent in his boxers say otherwise, he shakes his head no. Only points sternly to the chair.
Whatever. I put the bottle in the trash and sit, closing my eyes.
“Tilt your head back.”
When I do, he puts a cucumber slice on each of my eyes, and the cooling sensation is instant relief. And I can do this myself. It’s bewildering and somehow comforting at the same time that he wants to take care of me rather than have sex. Victor’s behavior doesn’t seem typical for males. Or is it?
“Coffee?” He asks.
“That’d be wonderful,” I murmur.
I hear the connecting door open. A few minutes later, Victor comes back with fresh breath. He kisses me before pressing a mug in my hand.
“Thank you. You should go back to sleep.”
“Can’t. I need to prep The Av for the certain mass exodus of hundreds of wedding guests — everyone from bellmen to Monbeau needs to be prepared.”
“Why the kitchen?” I crease my brow.
“They’ll need to process the reception food in some way. Some will freeze and keep, some will become lunch and dinner specials.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Stick with me kid. I’ll teach you everything you ever wanted to know about the hospitality biz.”
I turn the cucumbers over to the cooler side.
“Stay put and let the aspirin start working.” Victor kisses my forehead and goes to his room to shower and dress.
I take the cucumbers off for a moment to get my purse and my phone. I read through the dozens of texts, thank friends who wished me happy birthday and answer those who worried about me after last night’s drama.
Then, I put it on speaker for the voice messages, and click play. I lean back, put the cucumbers back on my eyes and listen. The first few are from friends who I’ll call back later — at a more decent hour.
The next message cues up.
“Hello Ms. Valentine. It’s
Mr. Rodriquez, General Manager at The Graces. Listen, I am not willing to give up on you yet.” He chuckles.
I take the cucumbers off my eyes and sit up.
“You are, by far, the best qualified intern who applied this cycle. And I’ve heard that your —” he clears his throat “ancient talents and skills are equally impressive.”
He’s talking about magick — in code. I suppose that’s how he’s kept such a low profile as a warlock.
“I understand your reasons for leaning toward The Avalon — a fine hotel, by the way. However, I’d appreciate the opportunity to show you what The Graces has to offer before you finalize your decision. Big resorts have their fans, but upscale wellness destinations — with our particular twist — have the potential for the largest growth in the industry. The last time we spoke, you mentioned that you’re planning a visit to Santa Fe soon. Give me a call before you book lodging in town. We’d be thrilled to comp a room for you and a guest as well as a regimen of wellness experiences.”
He rattles off his direct phone number. I’m not quick enough tapping the number into my contacts, so I play the message again to be sure I’ve got it right.
I lay the phone aside and step to the closet to choose something to wear.
Victor is just on the other side of the connecting door. Wearing his boxers and a tense jaw, he buttons his dress shirt and stares hard at me. I’m certain he heard the message. However, I’m not certain he saw me note the number.
My phone rings. It’s Gabs. I put her on speaker so I can get dressed while I talk.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Of course you’re up. How you feelin’?”
“Like crap. You?” I pull on boy-short panties and find the matching bra, conscious that Victor watches me dress through the open door.
“Same,” Gabs says.
“Got your cancellation list ready?”
“Yup. Meet the Mousquetaires in the main dining room in thirty minutes. I’ll buy you breakfast in exchange for a hundred calls.”
I grin. “Deal.” I hang up and fight with the tiny hooks on the bra.
Looking good in a light gray suit, Victor comes through the connecting door. He takes the ends of my bra and hooks it for me.
Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3) Page 23