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The only sound in the car is our mingled breath, mine choppy, hers smooth. I’m trying to keep my shit together, but her words ricochet from my head to my heart, and I’m afraid any minute now, one will pierce it, breaking the fragile thing I’ve spent most of my life trying to shield.
“My daddy was the one who had all the words of wisdom.” Her accent is thicker than I’ve ever heard it, soothing the rough edges around my heart. “But my momma always said there was nothing that Elvis couldn’t fix.”
She begins to sing “The Wonder of You.”
And oh my god, she sounds like a dozen squeaking rusty hinges. It’s almost awe-inspiring how badly Bell sings.
After the first stanza and chorus, I nuzzle her neck. “Hey babe?”
“Hmm?”
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Stick to humming.”
It takes a second for my words to sink in, but when my shoulders start shaking from laughing, she pulls back, gasping in outrage. “Why you—”
I silence her with a kiss before jumping out of the car, leaving her inside fuming, but also laughing.
I toss the key fob to the waiting valet, who is probably relieved that the weird intimate moment with my girlfriend is over.
Girlfriend. It seems like such an inconsequential word for what Bell means to me.
Rounding the car, I open Bell’s door to find her looking like a petulant child, arms crossed, lips pouting, and a stink-eye directed right at me. But don’t think I don’t see that lip twitch she’s trying to hide.
“Aw, don’t be like that, babe.” When she makes no move to exit the car, I lean in and pick her up, tossing her over my shoulder fireman style.
“Chase!” She tries wiggling off my shoulder, but the action only makes her skirt shimmy up her thighs. She freezes, probably very conscious of the fact that she’s not wearing any underwear. “Let. Me. Down.”
My answer is to slap her ass. It’s a multipurpose ass slap. It shocks her quiet, stops her skirt from riding up any further, and, my favorite, gets my hands on her.
Striding toward the entrance, I slow only to toss a bellman a fifty and ask him to bring up our bags from the car.
The doorman opens both doors to make way for my caveman style entrance, which is gawked at by everyone in the five-star hotel lobby. The stares don’t faze me as I make my way directly to the elevators and press the button.
“Wait.” Bell finally finds her voice, though it’s high pitched. “What are you doing? I thought you wanted to go to dinner. The restaurant is behind you.”
An older couple braves the spectacle I’m putting on and waits for the elevator with us. “No need,” I tell Bell, lightly spanking her ass again. “I plan to eat you instead.”
The older man’s eyes bulge, but the woman just smiles wistfully.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open. Wisely, the couple stays back when I haul Bell inside.
“And besides,” I say, as the doors slide shut, “if we really do get hungry for something other than each other, that’s why God invented room service.”
When the elevator starts moving, I slide Bell off my shoulder. She holds on to my shoulders, steadying her feet.
“You know something, Chase Moore?” Her voice is breathy and her eyes dark. I can’t help crowding her into the corner, bracing my arms on either side of her body that I’d bet my shares is turned on.
“What’s that, Bell?”
I let loose a low groan as she drags her hands up my sides, over my shoulders and around my neck, pulling me closer to her lush, pouting mouth.
“You’re a hound dog.”
One side of my upper lip twitches. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
