He shrugs. “Safer than we are out there.”
It’s at this time I get a good look at his face and I think that guy has kicked his cheekbone in. One half of his face is swollen. “Stace.” I frown as I put my hand up to his face. “Your cheekbone is broken.”
“It’s fine.” He winces as I touch it.
“We need some ice,” I murmur. I think for a moment and then pick up the phone and call reception.
“Hello, room service,” the bored operator answers.
I fake a calm voice. “Can I please get a bottle of champagne and a bucket of ice brought up to our room, please?” I glance at the clock. It’s 2am. God, what must they think?
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you.”
I walk Stace into the bathroom and sit him on the side of the bath and he winces. A deep cut is above his right eye and is still trickling blood, but it’s his left cheekbone that I am worried about. I wet a cloth and start to clean him up and he sits and watches me.
“You okay?” I ask as I wipe his forehead and push his hair back to look at him. “You’re very quiet. Are you really hurt?”
He nods and rolls his lips as if he wants to say something but is holding it in.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
He shrugs. “I just wonder why you are so worried about a little blood when you are the only one…” He stops himself midsentence.
“The only one that what?”
“Nothing.” He grabs the cloth from me and stands and walks back out into the room.
I follow him. “Say it. Just say it.” I hold my arms open. “I want you to tell me what you were going to say.”
He turns angrily. “You are the only person who hurt me today.”
My heart skips a beat.
He shakes his head. “And it fucking pisses me off that you have the ability to do that.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Stace,” I whisper softly. “I am sorry for not asking you if you took them, but what was I supposed to think?”
“That I would steal from you,” he barks angrily. “Why do you tell me you love me when you obviously think so little of my character?”
“I do love you,” I murmur.
“Well, you know what I don’t love?” he sneers angrily.
My heart drops. “Me?” I whisper.
“Being made to feel like a piece of shit.”
“I never said that,” I fire back.
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“When you put me in the same category as your ex-boyfriends and your father.”
My eyes tear up, because he’s right on target. That’s exactly what I did today. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
A knock bangs at the door. “Room service,” The waiter calls. I look through the peephole and see him standing with our champagne and ice. Stace walks back into the bathroom frustrated that we have been interrupted, I blow out a deep sigh as I open the door. “Thank you,” I murmur as I take the tray from him and lock the two deadlocks as he leaves.
I wrap a handful of ice in my t-shirt and walk back into the bathroom where I find Stace now in the shower, his back to me as he soaps his body up. I take off my clothes and get into the shower and hold him from behind. I wrap my arms around his large body and squeeze him tight. I press my face on his back and the water that runs down the drain is a shade of pink, tinged with blood. We stay silent for a long time, both lost in our own thoughts.
“I’m not an easy person to be with, Stace,” I murmur.
He stays silent.
A large lump forms in my throat. “I understand if you don’t want to fight for us. I’m damaged goods. I couldn’t be with me.”
He turns to face me. “Don’t say that,” he whispers.
“It’s true.” I shrug sadly. “I have more baggage than a 747.”
He pushes the hair back from my forehead and then, with his finger under my chin, lifts my face to meet his. “You’re my damaged goods.”
My eyes tear up at the words I so desperately needed to hear and he kisses me softly. “I have fallen in love with you, Rosh,” he whispers against my lips.
“You have?” I whisper in hope.
He kisses me again. “It’s annoying really.”
I smirk. “Annoying?”
“Well, right now my face is a mess and I should be making an escape plan, but the only thing that is on my mind is being inside my girl.” He grabs my behind and drags me across his hard body.
I smile, wrap my arms around his neck, and I kiss him.
Oh, I love this man. He knows me. He knows how fucked up I am and he is willing to try. Our kiss deepens and he really starts to grind me against the tiles.
“I’m sorry for today. I was so hurt, I couldn’t see straight,” I murmur.
He lifts me and wraps my legs around his waist and holds me up against the tiles. I can feel his tip at my opening.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He growls.
He brings my body hard down onto his and I groan as I struggle to accept his size.
We stay silent, our eyes locked on each other, and he slowly lifts me and then brings me back down hard so that he hits the end of me. “Trust me and let me love you. Let me protect you,” he whispers.
I nod, unable to speak as his body takes full possession of mine.
“Because I fucking love you and I need you to survive this.”
Our kiss turns frantic and I can’t see straight. He raises his arms to the tiles above my head and really starts to slam into me. The burn is so intense, I can feel every vein of his thick shaft. Every ripple of his muscle deep inside of me makes me crave more. I can’t get enough. I will never get enough of the way he makes me feel, of the way he touches me. He stops suddenly and cups my face with his hand. The water runs down our faces and I feel like I can’t breathe. Our eyes are locked on each other and with the way he is looking at me, it feels like anything is possible. His hand on my face is gentle, his eyes are filled with love, and yet my sex is throbbing from the beating it is taking.
This is love… Stace style.
“So, you know the plan?” Stace asks me for the tenth time as he sits on the end of the bed watching me.
“Yes,” I reply as I stuff my shoes into the overnight bag.
“Tell me what it is.”
“I already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
I roll my eyes in frustration. “I walk into the bank, withdraw all of our money, and then I get into the waiting cab.”
He nods. “Then what?”
“Then I catch the cab here and walk through reception as a decoy and get into the lift, but instead of coming up to the room, I go straight to the basement and get in the car with you and we leave.”
“But I am following you to the bank in case anything happens.”
“Nothing is going to happen. They were searching for us all night. They won’t be up at the crack of dawn stalking banks.”
“They might be.”
“Will you please say the glass is half full for once instead of being so damn negative?”
“I’m realistic, not negative.”
I roll my eyes as I continue packing. “Whatever,” I mumble under my breath. Honestly, there is no use even arguing with him when he’s like this. We have decided that if we want to really disappear, we need to fly to Vegas where Stace has another fake passport contact. Unfortunately, we need money to do this, and if we don’t withdraw all the money now they will easily be able to trace where we go. The guy who made my last passport has obviously ratted us out. It’s no coincidence that they found us. They have traced my bank card usage by matching it with my fake name.
“Are you sure that they don’t know who you really are?” I ask.
“Positive. I have a house and everything set up in Mac’s identity. They think that’s me and my house and have no idea who I really am.”
I shrug. “If you say so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means my father is an intelligent man. An evil, intelligent man and if he smells a rat he will find out your real identity as easy as pie.”
“He won’t.”
I zip up my bag and Stace rings reception. “Hello, can you please tally up the bill and let me know the amount, please?” He waits for a moment. “Yes, of course.” He waits again and then scribbles down an amount onto the notepad next to the phone. “Thank you. My wife will be down shortly to settle the bill. We are checking out this morning.” He listens to the receptionist. “Yes, we have had a very pleasant stay.” He smiles. “We’ll be back.”
I watch him and feel myself swoon. My wife. How I wish that were true. He hangs up and sits down on the bed. I sit on his lap and kiss him gently. “How’s the face feeling?” I ask.
“Tight.” He screws his face up and I touch his eyebrow gently. It’s a dark shade of purple and his face is still swollen, the harsh bruising appearing. I can see a distinct shoe mark on his cheek.
“Tell me something,” I say.
He kisses me, distracted by me being on his lap.
“Do you think my ring would be ready to pickup today?” I ask hopefully.
“No, not for another four days.”
My heart drops. “Do you think we can-?”
“No, Rosh.” He cuts me off. “We can’t wait for it. We don’t have time.”
My face falls. “Oh.” I sigh sadly.
“I will get you another one.”
“When?”
He smirks. “When I can.”
“When do you think that will be?”
“I don’t know.”
Hmm, I don’t like that answer at all. I stay silent, still hoping to get my way.