Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(31)
She put her hands on her hips. “What affects you, affects me too. Of all the people needing to believe and trust each other, it’s you and me. A few months ago, you wanted to help me with Dumbf*ck. Now you have to keep me in the loop to help you with Selfish Bitch. That’s how this relationship thing works. We support each other. Don’t cut me off so I’m not able to do that.”
I stood there a moment, absorbing her words. Then I gave her a hard nod. “You’re right. We’re a team in this. Sorry that I’m keeping too much shit to myself.” Stepping closer to her, I pulled her into my arms. “I’ve kept this whole thing with Madison a secret for so long, I’m just used to working through it on my own. Please be patient with me. I’ll work on it.”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around my waist. “That’s all I’m asking. Include me.”
“Deal.” I exhaled a relieved breath, then gave her a soft kiss. Pent-up energy pulsed through me, reminding me why I’d pulled her out here in the first place. “Where’s that spa area you visited the other day?”
“In a separate building, toward the back, why?” She glanced at me.
My guttered thoughts must’ve reflected in my eyes, because hers narrowed at me.
“Because I need to defile these grounds. And I need you.” I tilted my head with a smirk, eyes devouring her curves before meeting her gaze again. “Find me a dark corner.”
She hesitated, concern crossing over her face.
Determined, I tugged her forward again and finally broke through her subtle resistance.
I leaned down and pressed my lips against her neck. “Do they have a sauna?” I murmured as we crept into the spa’s unmanned lobby area.
She nodded and led me around the front corner. At the end of a long corridor, a door with a cedar frame and glass insert appeared. She yanked it open and steam poured out. I grabbed an armful of towels off the shelf and followed her inside. She turned around, then bit her lip.
I blew out a slow breath. She looked sexy as f*ck.
I had an undeniable urge to mark my territory. Primal. Couldn’t explain it if I tried. Thank God I didn’t need to—Hannah had a sudden wild look in her eyes, totally onboard with it.
“Come here, Maestro.” I crooked my finger at her.
With a smile, she grabbed one of the thick towels, tossed it onto the floor, and dropped to her knees. “You first.” She pulled her top off and unfastened her bra before tossing both aside. Then she unbuckled my belt and ripped open the button fly on my jeans.
During a last flash of rational thought, I wondered if we should’ve gotten naked before the steam soaked our clothes. Then her lips surrounded me, and I groaned as coherent thoughts scattered.
She expertly worked away my stress and anxiety. I didn’t have to ask. She sensed what I needed, knew before I did.
And with a shaky exhale, I let sensations overtake me.
14
Shabby Chic
To say that Philly’s Society Elite and the Fifth Avenue Contingent were slumming it tonight was an understatement, but as far as I was concerned, they’d never looked better. Furs and jewels had been abandoned in favor of fair-trade garments and accessories. Hair normally pinned up had tumbled free into loose waves. And noses typically high in the air had come down tonight. All who attended our function embraced one another—and those in need—with the spirit of support.
Standing in a quiet corner in the shadows toward the back, my father, Ben, and I surveyed a scene that through our innovation, belief, and financial commitment had transformed Loading Zone from a rough idea scrawled on paper one night in my economics class into a successful reality.
We watched guests continue to file in as our few minutes of private celebration wound down before the public party revved up. My dad, dressed in fair-trade black linen pants and white embroidered dress shirt, raised his beer. “Gentlemen, we did a fine job. Smart decisions, great marketing, and imaginative operating practices have turned this place into something to be proud of. Congratulations, sons.”
We clinked bottle necks before I took a long pull from my Fat Tire, enjoying praise from a man who didn’t shell it out often.
Needing to find calm in the growing buzz of energy of the room, my gaze drifted over to Hannah. She stood near the end of the bar. Her and Daniel maneuvered her cake a safe distance away from the bar edge.
Hannah looked beautiful tonight. Her slim black dress had a high hemline, exposing the olive skin of her toned thighs. The material was cinched by a belt resting just below her breasts, then rose up over them, covering her curves only as far as was publicly decent.
My thoughts were anything but.
However I remained a patient man. Tonight’s focus was on others: the charity, the guests, the employees. There’d be plenty of time later to show Hannah how much I loved her dress.
I checked my watch and confirmed we were twenty minutes from the event start time. “You two ready? We’ve got a party to run.”
“Let’s do this.” Ben finished his beer, placed it on the tray of a passing waitress, and stepped onto the dance floor, mingling his way through the crowd.
Before I immersed myself in host obligations, I veered off and pressed behind Hannah, gently gripping her hips as I pulled her back into me. Dropping my face against the side of her neck, I growled low, “You look delicious tonight. I love it when you wear your hair wild. Reminds me of how sexy you look after hours of bed play.”