29
Kris
Que fashion montage. Taking Nicolette out of her environment and letting her just be herself has been rather interesting. Especially as she seems to like public displays of affection almost as much as I do. I swear, for a woman, she isn’t nearly as crazy when it comes to shopping as most. I mean, what woman, hell—person—wouldn’t go nuts if they were told they could?
I mean, I have basically talked her into running away from home and shacking up with me until September. It is the only real way we will be able to accomplish what she wants. She needs to come away from the distractions and bad business decisions that have left her virtually bankrupt after years of busting her ass.
While she shopped, I grabbed the essentials and made phone calls. She’s going to need people behind her, and though I stay low-key, Vagrant Soul Records still has access to some of the best players in the music industry.
I called Erica Davenport, an Entertainment Lawyer we have on retainer, and she has agreed to draft Nicolette’s new contract and come out on Wednesday here to the Ring Of Fire Hotel and Resort. They just opened right after the lockdown and have some of the best amenities, and are highly regarded for their privacy. At nearly three thousand a night for a one-bedroom suite, it damn well better be.
We checked in, and while our stuff was brought to the room headed to the spa for some TLC. She’s in the shower now after we had a nap because her temp went up. I would have known better, I mean, she is sick, but we were having such a nice time. I’ve got on a crisp new black button-down, fitted bootcut indigo jeans, and my new boots. I swore I wasn’t going to buy another pair of boots this month, but—these feel so damn good.
I hear the blowdryer shut off. Good, maybe she’s almost done.
“Tink? I don’t want to rush you, beautiful, but our reservation is for eight fifteen, and it’s ten till.” I gently knock on the door the scent of vanilla and orchids wafts from under the door. I love that she smells so feminine, so much like home.
“You can come in. I need you to zip me up.”
Opening the door, the smell hits me fully, and my mouth waters. She’s standing at the sink, back to me, in this little slip dress with embroidered flowers layered over it. The back is hanging open with the zipper half up as she glides a lip gloss stick over her plump and kissable lips. Her hair is draped over her shoulder in long dark waves that remind me of the ocean at night.
Is it weird that Wicked Game, the Chris Issack version, is rolling around in my head?
Clearing my throat, I set a hand at her hip to steady her, and she looks at me through the reflection. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Pan. For everything.”’
“I should be thanking you. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had someone to spoil.” I can not contain my grin.
“I think you just needed someone who wouldn’t take your shit. Now, will you zip me up and feed me?”
“You got it.” Up goes the zipper, and her look is almost complete. She just needs her heels which will have her shapely bare legs teasing me the rest of the night.
I want to kiss you so badly.” I whisper as we wait for the elevator, “but I know it will mess up your makeup.” My hand is at the small of her back, my thumb doing a little circle at the edge of her zipper bottom.
“I have the good lipstick.” She runs a finger over her lip. “It doesn’t smear or stain anything.”
A low deep growl escapes me, and my eyes narrow as I pull her to me with an eager force. Her breath hitches leaving those lips parted exquisitely as she looks up through her lashes. I lower my head, taking in the vanilla and orchids once more. “What is it about you that brings out my need to touch and desire to devour?” My heart pumps harder, “With one breath, I want to be your shield and protector, or perhaps your captor, and yet-” My lips graze hers. “With the next, I just want to set you free and see how far you can run before I can catch you.”
“I don’t think I’d make it very far.” Her words are breathless as her grip on me tightens. Just as I’m about to destroy her mouth, the elevator doors open.
A snarl rips out of me from the interruption of the full contraption. I pull her away from it. “We’ll take the next one.” We slip back, and I have her pinned in the alcove with her legs wrapped over my hips in seconds. I press against her core. “Fuck, I just need this.” My fingers slip under her dress, and I hook my fingers into her panties. She gasps as I lift her higher, I feel her head hit the edge of the corner, and I hear the plant we passed knock over as my tongue slips between her tender folds of flesh.