Page 76 of Playing Dirty
"Just alright?" I echo as the doors slide shut.
"Yeah, I mean, I keep his ego at a manageable size. It's a public service, really, someone has to?—"
My mouth is on hers before she finishes, backing her into the corner rail and kissing her deeply, and she's giggling and breathless as she kisses me back, her hands sliding up into my jacket. I bite her lip gently and squeeze her ass, and she makes one of those soft little sounds that drive me out of my mind.
The lift dings at our floor and we pull apart, both grinning like idiots as the doors slide open on a blessedly empty hallway.
"Easy," I say, my hand resting at the small of her back. "Not a soul in sight."
"You're a real adrenaline junkie, you know that?" she laughs as we walk toward the suite, our footsteps muffled by the carpet.
"I think you secretly love it." I give her another playful swat on the ass, earning a small, startled gasp.
We reach her door and she rummages through her bag for the key card, produces it with a triumphant little flourish, and I pluck it straight out of her fingers.
"Maybea little," she says. "By the way, you were incredible on the ice tonight. I was really impressed."
"Oh? Even for a violent hockey brute who solves his problems with his fists?" I lean against the door, making no move for the lock.
"Yes, bastard, even for that." She plants her hands on her hips. "Now are you going to unlock the door, or just stand there being smug?"
"I dunno. I'm debating just having you right here."
"Well, that would be very indiscreet."
"Aye, that's the point, Ace." I laugh as I tap the card and push the door open, stepping back to wave her in.
The room is dark except for the Strip glowing neon through the sheer curtains, the whole skyline out there blinking away. I flip on a light as we move inside, past the carry on she must have dropped earlier.
Margot's checked luggage was apparently swallowed by the airline and never even cleared California, which is just my luck. She'd mentioned that she luckily has a few spare items and the basics since she's a committed "carry-on packer," but she did look a bit unraveled at the prospect of missing her extensive nightly routine.
She walks further into the room and stops dead at the edge of the bed. Laid out neatly is a bottle of lavender pillow spray, a stack of extra pillows, and a new pair of slippers, all arranged in a tidy row.
"The spray and slippers were in the bag I lost." She stares at it. "And I hadn't even called down for extra pillows yet. What on earth..."
I step up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her head. "Aye, but you can't sleep without the routine, can you? Your travel insomnia?"
"No," she says softly, leaning back into me. "I really can't."
"Well, it's not yourexactstuff, but being a minor celebrity has its perks, so I put in a call from the arena and had someone pick up replacements and make sure they beat us here. The concierge thinks I'm developing strange new sleep habits mid-playoffs, but it's all sorted."
She turns around in my arms, looking up at me. "You had a playoff game tonight to worry about."
"I did. Won it, too, you may have heard."
"How did you even know what to get?"
"You told me in Dublin about your hotel routine, Ace." I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I forgot I'd even mentioned that." She shakes her head slowly. "I've been stressed about tonight since the airport. I can't believe you remembered."
"Like I told you at our first tasting." I take her face in my hands. "I like hearing you talk. So I listen very closely."
A slow smile spreads across her face. "Are you trying to seduce me right now, O'Rourke?"
I lean down until I'm an inch from her lips, close enough to feel her breath catch.
"Very much so. Though seduce is putting it lightly." My fingers trace slowly across her cheekbone. "I'd say I'm attempting something greedier than that. Is it working?"
