Sail (Wake #2) (11 page)

Points for Mr. Moore. Points and more points.

We pulled up to the hotel, the Bella Flechazo, and I immediately realized this wasn’t just a quick trip somewhere tropical. Our car pulled into a lane, which wrapped under a huge natural stone hotel front. I realized that—knowing Casey—he probably had many more tricks up his sleeves.

The whole thing felt so dreamlike.

Natural, cream-colored stone covered almost every inch of the hotel lobby, and when we walked into the expansive atrium, my breath caught seeing a huge fountain, which shot water into the air at least twenty feet. Above that hung a spectacular blown-glass chandelier.

My travel companion walked with a strut. He was as proud as a peacock. Still holding my hand, he walked slowly so I could look at everything and didn’t rush me in the least, as our bags were carted past us. He looked every part the playboy in his scarf and designer jeans. Unapologetic curly hair, lying where it wanted.

Where I looked road weary and tired, he looked like he could run a mile. I didn’t care, because I was there with him and that was all that mattered.

I considered the possibility I’d simply fallen asleep on the plane and I was having a lovely dream, but as long fingers squeezed my hand again, I knew it was wonderfully real.

“It’s beautiful, Casey. Look at it.” Like a castle on a cliff, the ambiance of the hotel was unlike anywhere I’d ever been. It felt old and regal and fresh and new—at the same time. I was impressed.

Really
impressed.

He’d done all of this for me. For us.

Yes, there were hundreds of things I should have been doing and thinking about and debating, but—with him—I was going to just take it all in. What more could I want? I was at a majestic place and finally both halves of my heart were back together. I knew because I felt two pulses in my hand and one was his.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said with a sexy, crooked grin. There was pride, and the perfect amount of ego, shining in his vibrant blue-green eyes.

“I can see that. You check us in and I’ll use the ladies’ room.” We’d been flying for a long time and I needed to get cleaned up a bit, but really, I just wanted to see what it looked like in there, too.

It was totally awesome—as far as bathrooms go—like I supposed it would be. It had fantastic lighting and great mirrors. The ones that make you look good at every angle and the soap smelled like melted angel kisses. It was divinity in the form of a lavatory.

When I finally came out, Casey was leaning against the back of a white sofa waiting for me. Legs crossed, reading a pamphlet.

Sauntering to him, I thought he was reading it, but when I noticed it was written in Spanish, I knew I’d been fooled.

“Whatcha’ reading there, hot stuff?” I queried, feeling much more alive after splashing my face with water, reapplying lip gloss, and re-securing my hair into the hobo-chic up-do I was pulling off at the moment.

“Oh, just some Costa Rican travel rules. Nothing major,” he said like it was no big deal, but really he was fishing. Toying with me.

“Rules, huh?” I said playing along as he took his hand in mine and led me to the elevator.

“Yeah, just a few things that we should try to do while we’re here,” he told me as he pressed the button. Then he kissed my hand. “Your hand smells good,” he said. Then kissed it again before letting them hang between us as we waited for the doors to open.

“The bathroom was really nice,” I whisper-screamed. The soap smelled better than good. A small thing, true, but there were not enough small things in my life that I took the time to appreciate and I decided I wasn’t going to miss all of the tiny things that would surely make this week heaven. I wanted all of the little pieces. They were mine to keep and hopefully add to.

He chuckled a little, but stopped when the doors split, revealing another well-dressed man. The hotel had an elevator operator man?

I mouthed, “Whoa,” to Casey as we walked inside.

He winked causing my nether-region to purr.

“Tres,” he said to the man. Then handed him some money when we arrived on the third floor.
Fancy.

I gave him an
Is this for real?
look.

On the third floor and at the back of the hotel, our room was just as impressive. It opened to a large terrace, which had a hot tub, and a set of stairs. I walked around the living room-type furniture to see what else was there. We were up so high, and as I got closer to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors I saw it was the ocean below. The beach was only thirty or so stairs down from our personal veranda. The view of the water below was beautiful, the sun having already set. White-topped waves gently rolling into the sand below glowed in the moonlight.

I was so surprised. I knew he’d take us somewhere nice, but this place was a dream.

“Casey, this is too much. This must have cost a small fortune,” I said while turning around to face him. It was all too much. Too perfect. Overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant something bad would happen. In the past, I was always caught off guard when things seemed to be going right.

I was afraid that none of it was real. For all I cared, all of it could disappear, as long as wherever I was left standing I had a good view of him. He was all I wanted.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

NOTHING WAS
TOO
MUCH if I got to see her face look like that. It was exactly what I wanted.

Blake stood near the door looking out for a few minutes before she spoke. I felt like I’d finally given her something. Something no one else ever had. And now I knew what it felt like, I wanted to do it again and again forever.

“I’m glad you like it.” And I truly was. Seeing the excitement and wonder on her face as we walked through the lobby was almost as breathtaking as seeing that the pretty little finger on her left hand was bare.

No engagement ring. No wedding band. That was my favorite part of the trip so far. If she noticed how much I was holding her hand, she didn’t complain, but it was free again and I relished knowing the next ring she wore would be mine.

Permanently.

I also noted that, although they looked short, her fingernails were in relatively good shape compared to how I’d seen them a few times in the past.

All good signs for me.

“Like it? Casey, this is a dream. The hotel. The view. I can’t believe you’d spend so much on a little getaway. This is so…so startling. It’s too much. But thank you.” Her thoughts were jumping around. It was a lot to take in—even for me.

I was content she didn’t know how much money I had. That fact alone made it so much more fun to spend.

The brewery had done, and continued to do, incredibly well. And to say Marc had been generous with me—even before I bought into Bay Brewing, as an owner—would have been a gross understatement. Aside from that, I bought in at a time when we began making profit hand over fist and we could barely keep up with orders. I didn’t have much in the way of bills or free time. I spent a lot of time traveling on business and those expenses were all written off. I’d never been worried about money, even when we’d first met. I wasn’t Trump-rich by a long shot, but splurging on a much-needed vacation with my girl wouldn’t put a dent in my account.

I could understand why she assumed I only made a fair income and did okay. So it came as no surprise when she thought the Bella Flechazo was out of my price range. It looked that way. Hell, it felt that way—even to me. I’d never stayed anywhere that nice before. One thing was sure though, I would’ve spent twice as much if I’d known it would guarantee that mesmerized look on her face.

“Why don’t you take a shower, put on a little something-something, and then let me take you downstairs for dinner?”

“Why don’t you join me?” she replied bouncing up to me on her toes. Her light, carefree steps only proving more how carefree she felt.

Blake’s mouth met mine in a leisurely, languid kiss and time finally slowed down for us. Her tongue slid across my bottom lip and I moaned. Her lips were so soft and the only kiss I tasted on them was mine. My hands found hers and I walked us backward to, where I was guessing, the bathroom was through the master suite and around the corner.

Making it to the bathroom, she switched places and pulled me in as I fumbled for the light switch on the wall, trying not to break our kiss. I kicked my shoes off as she unwound the red scarf.
That
I’d only bought to see her blush.

The wicked grin she was flashing charmed me. I had wanted to see her untroubled for so long. So many times when we’d been together there had been
circumstances
looming over us. There were too few precious times when I’d seen her look totally at ease, and this was now one of them. She swayed her hips and pulled her shirt over her head. Then she took a few backward steps to the walk-in shower.

“Why don’t you come in here and show me what you brought me here for?” she persuaded. I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it behind me. My hand reached behind my back and pulled off my shirt. All the while, my mind began debating. I tried to turn the fucker off, but I couldn’t. What she’d just said reminded me. Although she was being playful, I didn’t want her to have any reason to misinterpret my intentions.

Don’t be the one-night stand guy.

I stood before her, sock-footed and only wearing jeans.

By then she only had her panties on and she did something I hadn’t seen since the first night we were together. Her right foot rubbed that back of her left leg and her hands clasped politely in front of herself.

Honeybee, I won’t make the same mistakes with you twice.

I walked past her to turn on the water, but still didn’t take my pants or socks off. She looked at me like I was a perfect stranger, not rushing to take her up on her sexy fucking suggestion. There was nothing I wanted to do more—in the whole world—than fuck her beautiful brains out in that massive fucking shower.

Well, maybe one thing. And it was a big thing. I wanted to actually make her mine this time. If I was getting a second shot at making her mine, I was going to do my best to learn from my mistakes.

I kissed her naked shoulder as I walked back past. She stood still and stared at the floor.

“I’m not going to shower with you. Not this time,” I said as gently as I could. I was confusing her, which was understandable. In the past, if there was an opportunity to be inside her, then I was buried eight hard inches in my girl. Cooling things down wasn’t something common for me.

If she’d done it intentionally, it most likely wouldn’t have been as adorable, but her bottom lip pushed out and her brow wrinkled—just barely. She was literally pouting. Sadly, at that moment, I had to look away.

My ego and my dick wanted to be stroked, but I abstained. An ego that begged to know how disappointed she was I wasn’t showering with her. And a dick that really, really wanted to take said shower. I reminded myself she wasn’t going anywhere and said, “You look phenomenal. I want that body like my next breath, but I’m going to let you shower and I’ll get our bags squared away.”

I placed one last kiss on the skin at the crook of her neck and left her there.

I fought the urge to go back in, but it didn’t feel the same as when I’d left her in the past. I wasn’t leaving her on her own. I was just going into the next room.

Another benefit of taking a flight-risk lover to another country.
Where was she to go?

I collected my jacket and shirt, deciding if I wasn’t going to shower, the least I could do was change. I moved Blake’s luggage to her side of the room, or at least that was where I decided her side would be. Where it was in the room was trivial, but the fact our luggage was in the same room was paramount. She could sprinkle her shit over every square inch in the suite and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Her shit was with my shit.

I’d made some special arrangements I needed to check on anyway. After booking the room, I called to see what sorts of things there were to do locally. I was only too pleased to encounter Enrique, the perfectly English-speaking concierge. It was a sign.

Enrique and I made fast friends. He was about my age—I surmised—and I immediately won him over when I told him I needed help showing a
very
special girl a
very
good time. After getting a few minor details handled by my new Costa Rican buddy, I felt like I’d chosen the perfect place for us. He was accommodating of my weird requests, but never told me no or that he couldn’t help. Enrique—or Ricky, as I liked to call him in my head—had some pretty tall orders to fill.