Beautiful Beginning(13)
rounded the car, smiling as I took Chloe’s hand.
The hum of voices and gentle tinkling of music greeted us as we stepped
into the lobby and crossed to the elevator. I couldn’t help but think back
on the last time Chloe and I were here together: of f*cking her on the huge
king-sized bed until she’d screamed my name, of holding her hands behind
her back as I bent her over the balcony railing, the crashing waves and
rustling palms the only sounds masking the noises she made.
I followed her into the elevator and like some sort of homing device, my
eyes dropped straight to her ass. She knew it, too, because there was a
much more deliberate swivel to her hips, an intentional shake with each
step. I felt myself begin to harden and realized that if this plan went to
shit, I was screwed. Literally.
Get your head in the game, Ben, I told myself, reaching to press the button
to our floor. It wouldn’t be that hard, I reasoned: keep your distance,
eyes above her shoulders at all times, and for God’s sake, no arguing
about anything.
“Everything okay over there, Ryan?” my lady-adversary said, leaning
against the wall opposite me. She crossed her arms over her chest and her
breasts pressed together. Danger. I quickly averted my gaze.
“Absolutely.” I had this. I was a genius.
“You look mighty proud about something. Fire someone today? Kick a puppy?
”
Oh, I see you, Mills. I see you. I kept my eyes fixed on the mirrored doors
opposite me and answered, “Just thinking back on the card Sofia made for
us. She must have made it with that cute little art set we bought her for
her fourth birthday. But I just realized her handwriting reminded me a lot
of yours.”
A small, knowing smile pulled at her mouth and she nodded, glancing up at
the display as the floors ticked past.
Almost like a weight had been placed on my shoulders, drowsiness began to
seep into my limbs and back; my arms felt dense with a heavy wave of
fatigue. I smiled wider.
The elevator stopped on our floor and I watched as she stepped out and made
her way down the hall. She waited while I opened the door to our room and
then headed straight for the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I asked. What had I expected? For her to strap me
down, throw me against a wall, and force me to have sex with her? And why
did that sound so damn appealing?
“Just getting ready for bed,” she said over her shoulder, and closed the
door behind her.
I stood for a moment before moving to open the balcony, feeling the first
yawn creeping up. Dinner had gone better than expected. Well, that was a
bit of a stretch. Bull made a fifteen-minute meandering “toast” about
family, relating several stories about some questionably harassing
interactions he had with one of my high school girlfriends before
soliloquizing at length about how beautiful Chloe is. My mother sent me
seven more text messages I still hadn’t read. Judith and Mary ended up
sitting on Will’s lap, grinning widely at me, and Henry made a circuit of
the room after dessert, making a handful of secret bets with wedding
guests.
Still, the police hadn’t been called and nobody had found themselves in
need of emergency assistance, so it was as close to a success as this group
would get for our first night out. At least the chaos had taken my mind off
Chloe and the shoes she’d previously only worn during sex, and the dress
that seemed to show everything but in fact showed nothing—which was
infinitely sexier.
I never would have expected to be avoiding sex the week of our wedding. But
I’d had plenty of time to think about it while folding what seemed like a
million wedding programs, and decided that for the first time in our
relationship I wanted to savor her: her laugh and her words and the mere
reality of her company. I wanted to be able to watch her without thinking
about the next time I’d have her naked and up against a wall. It seemed
like a good idea at the time, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t also
about wanting to piss her off a little and I knew her well enough to know
that withholding sex would . . . I blinked over to the bathroom door. Where
the f*ck was she? As my lids grew heavier and Chloe took longer doing who-
knows-what in the bathroom, I wasn’t sure I’d have the physical strength
to fight her off if it came to that tonight.
Taking a seat in the living room, I picked up a magazine, feeling myself
grow more and more tired with every minute. I looked up at the sound of a
door opening and nearly fell over. Chloe leaned against the wall, hair
loose and falling in wild waves along her shoulders and down the length of
her back. Her lips were glossy and pink, and I could imagine that color
smeared down my chest and along the skin of my cock. She wore what was
easily the sexiest and most complicated lingerie I’d ever seen. The black
demi-cups barely covered her breasts; the rest consisted of a series of