Cade as he gets off his motorcycle.
Again, instead of responding, he plucks me from the seat and sets me down on the ground.
“Let’s get this off you,” he says, reaching under the helmet. His fingers brush the skin of my neck, and chills erupt over my body. His touch has no right to feel this good. Not after what he’s put me through.
He gently pulls the helmet from my head—it’s not difficult, since it’s kinda loose anyway—and I brush my hands through my hair until it feels presentable.
We’re parked in front of a tall building. Not quite a skyscraper, but big.
“You’re staying here?”
“Not nice enough?”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. But knowing your stepbrother—who was once the boy you spent long, languid summer days hiding away in a secret hideaway with; spent nights in the same shitty house playing Monopoly, stealing from each other or the bank when the other wasn’t looking—is now rich… And seeing it firsthand. Those are two very different things.
“Mr Dorn,” a man says as he opens the glass doors to the lobby for us.
Cade nods at him, and hands him the helmet. “Martin. I didn’t know you were here already. How are those investments coming?”
“Not as good as yours,” Martin replies with a light smile, taking the helmet with his free hand.
“You’ll get there.”
“I doubt that,” he says, his smile widening.
“Better each month though, right?”
Martin nods. “That they are.”
There are two sets of doors, like a space shuttle’s airlock—perhaps to keep the LA smog out—and Martin rushes ahead to open them for us.
“Stay here often?” I whisper to Cade.
He shakes his head. “He used to work at the one in New York.”
He says something more, but as we enter into the lobby, everything else fades away as I take in the sight. The roof is far above my head, and the sheer wastefulness of it takes my breath away: you could fit at least another two, maybe three floors. That’s like, fifty, a hundred rooms?
And yet, they sacrificed that space for a place where people get their keys. A place where they don’t spend more than a few minutes in.
It’s a far cry from our house—it’ll never be home to me—where we have a plywood structure in our living room so we can take advantage of the “obscenely” tall and wasteful ten-foot ceilings.
I used to think it was cool, when Dad built it when I first moved in with them. Now, I don’t. At least not at my house. Maybe if I were in college, and had roommates, it’d seem okay.
“Come on,” Cade says, taking my arm, pulling me from my reverie.
He leads me quickly toward the elevators.
“Worried your room won’t be there?”
“I don’t want to be spotted.”
“By who? Ow!” I trip, and almost fall over.
Cade catches me. “Are you okay?”
I look up into his face, feel his hard body press into my soft one, and I find myself unable to speak.
“Let’s get to the room.”
We begin moving again, slower this time, but not much.
Cade’s arm is wrapped around me, and I want to tell him if he’d let go of me, we’d probably move faster. It’s not like I’m going to run away.
But letting go is the last thing I want him to do right now.
Chapter 6
The elevator ride is long, but not as long as I’d expect to go up to the twenty-second floor.
Cade has to use his keycard on the elevator to get it to go that high.
When the doors slide smoothly open, I see the reason. We’re in a small hall with only a single door.
And, as Cade slides his key and holds that door open for me, I’m stunned at the impressive sight.
“Is this a convention center or something?”
He chuckles. “It’s my room. Yours, too. Hungry?”
“Room? It’s a palace, not a room.” I stand there, staring. Directly across from me are huge panes of glass, looking out onto the city. I slowly walk across the improbable space toward them.
When I look down, at all the tiny cars and people, I get vertigo and a sudden
Again, instead of responding, he plucks me from the seat and sets me down on the ground.
“Let’s get this off you,” he says, reaching under the helmet. His fingers brush the skin of my neck, and chills erupt over my body. His touch has no right to feel this good. Not after what he’s put me through.
He gently pulls the helmet from my head—it’s not difficult, since it’s kinda loose anyway—and I brush my hands through my hair until it feels presentable.
We’re parked in front of a tall building. Not quite a skyscraper, but big.
“You’re staying here?”
“Not nice enough?”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. But knowing your stepbrother—who was once the boy you spent long, languid summer days hiding away in a secret hideaway with; spent nights in the same shitty house playing Monopoly, stealing from each other or the bank when the other wasn’t looking—is now rich… And seeing it firsthand. Those are two very different things.
“Mr Dorn,” a man says as he opens the glass doors to the lobby for us.
Cade nods at him, and hands him the helmet. “Martin. I didn’t know you were here already. How are those investments coming?”
“Not as good as yours,” Martin replies with a light smile, taking the helmet with his free hand.
“You’ll get there.”
“I doubt that,” he says, his smile widening.
“Better each month though, right?”
Martin nods. “That they are.”
There are two sets of doors, like a space shuttle’s airlock—perhaps to keep the LA smog out—and Martin rushes ahead to open them for us.
“Stay here often?” I whisper to Cade.
He shakes his head. “He used to work at the one in New York.”
He says something more, but as we enter into the lobby, everything else fades away as I take in the sight. The roof is far above my head, and the sheer wastefulness of it takes my breath away: you could fit at least another two, maybe three floors. That’s like, fifty, a hundred rooms?
And yet, they sacrificed that space for a place where people get their keys. A place where they don’t spend more than a few minutes in.
It’s a far cry from our house—it’ll never be home to me—where we have a plywood structure in our living room so we can take advantage of the “obscenely” tall and wasteful ten-foot ceilings.
I used to think it was cool, when Dad built it when I first moved in with them. Now, I don’t. At least not at my house. Maybe if I were in college, and had roommates, it’d seem okay.
“Come on,” Cade says, taking my arm, pulling me from my reverie.
He leads me quickly toward the elevators.
“Worried your room won’t be there?”
“I don’t want to be spotted.”
“By who? Ow!” I trip, and almost fall over.
Cade catches me. “Are you okay?”
I look up into his face, feel his hard body press into my soft one, and I find myself unable to speak.
“Let’s get to the room.”
We begin moving again, slower this time, but not much.
Cade’s arm is wrapped around me, and I want to tell him if he’d let go of me, we’d probably move faster. It’s not like I’m going to run away.
But letting go is the last thing I want him to do right now.
Chapter 6
The elevator ride is long, but not as long as I’d expect to go up to the twenty-second floor.
Cade has to use his keycard on the elevator to get it to go that high.
When the doors slide smoothly open, I see the reason. We’re in a small hall with only a single door.
And, as Cade slides his key and holds that door open for me, I’m stunned at the impressive sight.
“Is this a convention center or something?”
He chuckles. “It’s my room. Yours, too. Hungry?”
“Room? It’s a palace, not a room.” I stand there, staring. Directly across from me are huge panes of glass, looking out onto the city. I slowly walk across the improbable space toward them.
When I look down, at all the tiny cars and people, I get vertigo and a sudden
Similar Books
The Manuscript Found in Saragossa
Jan Potocki
Bad Girls Do It Better (Bad Boy Billionaire Romance)
Aubrey Michelle
Perry Scrimshaw's Rite of Passage
Chris Hannon
Where There's Smoke
Karen Kelley
Magic Rising
Camilla Chafer
Grayfox
Michael Phillips
Limits
Liz Reinhardt, Steph Campbell
Swann
Carol Shields
Fragments
Dan Wells
The Lord Is My Shepherd
Debbie Viguié