I scoot a little closer and prop myself up to lay gentle kisses along his side. Inch by inch, I graze my lips to his skin till I’ve covered every part of his body I can reach.
“Well, that’s one hell of a way to wake up,” he says, turning over and raising his arms above his head to stretch.
I tear the covers away and throw one of my legs over to straddle him. “And I’m just getting started.”
So waking up next to Ty pales in comparison to what comes after we wipe the sleep out of our eyes and do a morning stretch. My heart still races from thoughts of our marathon morning.
“Why don’t we head down to San Diego?” Ty says, coming out of the restroom with a towel around his waist and a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Seeing the cut of his muscular V disappearing somewhere below the low slung towel makes me drool. I want to reach out and trace my fingertips along the lines all the way down to the promise land. Dragging my tongue along the path sounds pretty good too. More than good, in fact. Damn, that capital V is my favorite letter. Tyler’s capital V.
And just like that I’m already thinking about hopping in the ring for another round.
“Mel?”
Huh? My eyes meet his again. He arches a brow at me. Right, San Diego.
“An hour ago, I would’ve jumped on the offer, but the weather’s not looking so good. April showers, I guess,” I say, turning down the TV. The weather report shows light to heavy showers all throughout the week.
Ty continues brushing and walks back toward the sink. After lazing around in my after sex glow, I finally get out of bed so I can take my turn in the shower … a very cold shower. I know by the time I get out, Ty will have breakfast made for us and another plan for the week. I’ll let him take care of the details. I wouldn’t mind staying home all week shacked up in my house and tied to my bed.
Just as I suspected, Tyler has made scrambled eggs, bacon, and crispy hash browns, just the way I like them. He’s an expert in the kitchen when it comes to breakfast foods. Lunch and dinner? Not so much.
“I love having my own personal chef when you’re visiting,” I tell him, snagging a piece of bacon off the serving dish. The salty crunchy flavor is to die for. “It’s like I have my very own Bobby Flay.”
“I’d prefer Emeril,” Ty says, shaking some pepper in his right hand. “Bam! Bam!” he calls out, sprinkling the spices on the potatoes. “See, I’m exciting like that.”
Standing on my toes, I tilt my head to pucker up to him. He leans down to plant his lips on mine. “Yes, babe. You’re more than exciting.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he jokes. We each grab a plate and pile on food before heading to the living room to eat in front of the TV. After setting down his plate, Tyler heads into the kitchen and comes back with a cup of coffee for each of us. I take a sip and it’s just the way I like it—a little coffee with my milk, not very strong, and with a splash of French vanilla sweetener. Delicious.
“Are we really going to watch iCarly?” I ask him, already knowing the answer.
He finishes a bite of food before responding. “Hey, this is the butter sock episode. Don’t hate.” I’m not hating. I absolutely love this episode. It just cracks me up that we both watch this silliness and we don’t even have any kids. He clears his throat, and takes a swig of his coffee. “This is your fault, you know.” He gestures at the TV. “You got me hooked. I’d never watched this stuff until I spent my last vacation with you.”
“I take full responsibility.” We watch quietly for the next two episodes as we finish our breakfast and drink a few cups of coffee.
“How about Vegas?” Tyler blurts out, as I close the dishwasher and crank the dial to turn it on.
“Vegas?”
“Yeah, why not? It’s not like we have to worry about the weather there. We can pick a good hotel and then never leave it. If the weather is nice, we can hit the pool or walk the strip. But otherwise, we can just hang out inside.” He sounds like he has it all thought out. “Call your mom and ask her if she can keep the puppies for the week. If you tell her you’re going with me, she won’t say no.” He grins like an idiot and I know he’s right. My mom loves the idea of me spending time with Tyler. Loves it so much I know she’d be willing to take on my twin Chihuahuas, Mer and Der.
“Vegas huh?” I look up at him, and he raises his brows with a mischievous smile that brightens the room. He’s frickin’ adorable. Who could say no to that face? “Alright, if you say so.”
He scoops me up into a giant bear hug and spins me around the kitchen. I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for the ride. “Vegas baby, Vegas!” he chants, driving me to giggle like a little girl.
By dinnertime, we’re pulling in to the valet at Paris Las Vegas. We booked a Red Room. I can’t wait to get up there and lounge across the sofa that’s shaped like puckered lips. How fun will that be? My phone is charged and ready to take multiple pictures so I can send them to Shelly. She’s going to be so jealous. I don’t care that she’s on her honeymoon in Florida, visiting the Wizarding World of Harry Potter (which by the way, I’m insanely envious), she’s going to be bummed that she’s not tearing up Vegas with me.
It’s been less than 24 hours since I’ve seen or talked to her, but I miss Shel already. Hell, I even miss Matt. I’m tempted to call her, but I want to give them the space they deserve before the honeymoon is over, both literally and figuratively. Actually, I’m pretty certain those two will be in the honeymoon stage for quite some time. I’ve never seen two people more in love. It’s sickening.
“This hotel is breathtaking,” Ty says, gazing across the ceilings painted to portray a sky so natural it appears like we’re still outside on a beautiful clear day.
“You’ve never been here before?” I ask him.
“No, that’s why I suggested it. I thought you said you hadn’t either?” He looks down at me. He looks like a college frat boy, hat turned backward, rolling my luggage behind him with a backpack slung over his shoulder
“Yeah, I’ve never stayed here. But I’ve been here to shop and eat.” His eyes look disappointed. “Ty, it’s not a big deal. The room will be new to both of us.” I reach over and squeeze his bicep, then run my hand down his arm till I weave my fingers into his.
“I guess that’s the part that matters.” He pulls me closer to him as we walk through the casino to the hotel guest elevators. He unhooks his fingers from mine and slides his hand down my back till it comes to rest on my behind. He gives my ass a little pat, and I have to stop myself from breaking out into a sprint to our room.
Later on, when we’re showering together, Ty says, “You know, we didn’t come all this way to make love in a fancy hotel the whole time. We should probably go out.”
“Okay. No more sex for the rest of the trip then,” I tell him, grinning as I lather his chest and belly.
“You keep doing that and we’re going to have to cut this trip short,” he teases. “I’m just saying. I want to take you out. I saw a club when we were walking through earlier. Let’s get some dinner and then go dancing.”
“Dancing, Ty? Really?”
He runs his hands through the conditioner in my hair and tilts my head back into the stream of the shower. He continues to rinse my hair free of the moisturizer, massaging my scalp, and making me squirm. My legs go weak every time his fingers comb through my locks and tingles spread throughout my body like rapid fire.
“So dancing, Melly?” he asks, before pressing his lips to mine softly.
“Anything for you, babe. Anything.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” He winks at me with his sly grin.
When I walk out of the bathroom, Tyler lets out a whistle.
“You look stunning, Mel.” His eyes take me in from head to toe. “You are so fucking sexy.” He struts over to me and takes my hands in his. He stretches my arms wide open, soaking me in again with his eyes.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say of my little black silk s
paghetti strap dress. It’s short and about mid-thigh. The top reminds me of a triangle bikini, showing so much cleavage I can’t wear a bra. Thankfully, my girls are still perky and I don’t need one. The rest of the dress is loose fitting, giving me enough room to move when we go dancing. Sure, tight is hot, but it’s not practical when you’re going to bust a move.
“You sure you want to wear those shoes again?” he asks of my Louboutins.
“Hell yes, this is Vegas baby,” I say with a screech.
“I’m going to have to massage them later when they’re protesting.”
“Darn.” I grin. My feet being massaged by his strong hands? What a terrible thing to have to endure. Not.
Ty takes my hands and wraps them around his back, pulling me in close to him and leaning in till his lips graze my neck. “You smell delicious. I love your scent. This perfume drives me mad.”
“You know, you’re not so bad yourself. I almost fainted when I saw you all dressed up.” His charcoal gray dress pants, and black pinstripe collared shirt make him look like a model. He looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine at a newsstand. His sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms, and he left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, along with the bottom one. He looks sexy as all hell. If you looked up Sex God in the dictionary, it would say “See Tyler Gelson” right next to it.
Oh my. This man was put on earth to torture me.
Ty continues to hold me in his arms, tracing kisses on my shoulders and brushing his lips across my neck. The warmth of his breath on my skin is making every part of my body hum with desire, some parts a lot more than others.
“We better go before we never make it out of the room,” he finally says. I sure as heck wasn’t going to say anything. I could stand in this position for eternity so long as he is nibbling on my collarbone and sucking on my ultra-sensitive neck.
Chapter 3
Melissa
We have dinner at one of the trillion hotel cafes, only ordering a club sandwich and fries to share. We ate practically an entire tub of Red Vines and a bag of Doritos on the way here. Not to mention the Super Big Gulp filled with Diet Coke and extra ice. While we have had plenty of activity to work up a healthy appetite, the small dinner hits the spot and I’m itching to boogie.
Hand in hand, fingers laced together, we head from the café to the nightclub. It’s been years since I’ve had an excuse to dress up and it feels good. Glamorous. Sexy. For so long, Shel and I have been in a routine of relaxing in our yoga gear—although we only tried yoga once and failed miserably—and drinking wine and beer while watching boxed DVD sets of our favorite TV shows. Formal wear is hardly required for that. Yet, here I am walking through a casino in Las Vegas on the arm of a man over a foot taller than me, with sparkling green eyes, a beauty mark that makes me melt, and the strongest hands that heat my body to the innermost part of my core.
And I love it. I’d trade in every pair of my yoga pants to imprint this moment in my mind forever.
“Wow, the line is pretty long,” I tell Ty as the entrance to the club comes into view. And double wow to what some of these women are wearing. I thought I was showing cleavage and too much thigh. If some of these girls’ skirts were even a millimeter shorter, I’d be able to see their whispering eyes. “Damn, it takes some guts to wear that,” I say, gesturing in the direction of a chick wearing a skirt that’s about as wide as a belt, and a halter top the looks more like suspenders.
“Yeah, and the lack of a mirror,” he says, shaking his head.
“Like you wouldn’t be gawking at little miss sexy if I wasn’t here.”
“No thank you. There’s a difference between sexy and slutty. And she’s definitely not sexy. We would have never left the room if you were dressed like that.” His distaste for the more than half naked woman shows on his face.
“No need to worry about that.” I cross my hand over my breasts, “This is about as revealing as I’ll ever get.”
“Perfect.” He smiles down at me, and bends down to press his lips to my temple. “All the men are staring at you wishing they were as lucky as I am.”
I elbow him in the side. “Oh stop.” Or don’t. What woman wouldn’t love hearing this from her man?
Another hoochie dressed in a silver shimmering sheath dress, looking like a disco ball, approaches us with a clipboard. “Can I see your invitation?”
I look over at Ty who shrugs. I notice other people have started to move away from the line, as I suspect we will be in just a moment.
“Is this an invitation only club? I thought there was just a cover charge,” he tells her.
“Yes, but you have to purchase your reservations about four to six months in advance to obtain your invitation.” I like how a “ticket” you pay for is called an invitation. I’ve never had to pay for an invitation in my life.
“Don’t worry, Ty. Let’s go. We’re too overdressed for this place anyway,” I say, turning my back to the clipboard-holding gate keeper.
Tyler snorts as he throws his arm around me and we walk away. “You’re funny, Melly belly.”
“Thank you, thank you very much,” I use my Elvis impersonation. “Where to? Let It Ride tables? Bingo?”
“Nah, I think I have a better idea.” He brings my right hand up to his mouth and brushes his lips across the back of my knuckles. He is so sweet, my heart aches and tingles at the same time.
When we reach the elevators, I’m not surprised. “Ahhh, ready for round three so soon?” I tease him.
He grins at me. Uh oh. He’s up to something.
As soon as we get into the room, I head to the lips-shaped sofa and brace myself up against the side of it to rid myself of my heels of death.
“What are you doing? Don’t get undressed yet,” he says, holding up his hands.
“Huh. Are we going back out? It’s almost midnight.”
“That’s like eight in Vegas. But no, we’re not going back out.” He goes over to the mini-fridge and I watch as he pulls out a bottle of Patron. And not a little bottle either. “We’re gonna have our own little party here and pretend like it’s a club.” He takes a swig from the bottle and blots his mouth with the back of his hand. “Only here, we don’t have to pay twenty bucks a shot.”
I take the tequila from his hand. “And we don’t need an invitation.” I bring the bottle to my lips and tilt my head back letting a stream of cold liquid flow.
Tyler dims the lights and turns on some music. His iPod is docked and he flips through a few songs, chuckling as he changes from one to another. Finally, he settles on…The Right Stuff by New Kids on the Block.
“Are you kidding me?” I laugh. “New Kids?”
“Anything for my girl,” he says.
“This reminds me of the homecoming dance.”
He does the signature move, swaying his legs back and forth.
“You’re killing me.” I begin snorting and then calm myself long enough to take another pull from the bottle of tequila. This time it hits me and I feel a little woozy.
“Like I said, anything for you.”
He takes another drink and we dance like teenagers to the rest of the song in the dim light of one of the bedside lamps.
By the time the song finishes, we’re out of breath and laughing hysterically after doing the New Kids dance over and over again. I surprise myself with how much of the choreography from the video I still know. I wonder if Shel could still do it.
Ty fumbles with his iPod again, changing the music to some more jams we listened to back in the day.
“Freak me baby,” I tell him. “Grind all up on me like you did in high school.”
He places his hands on my hips and pulls me into him as he dances. “I didn’t grind on you. You were my little sister’s best friend. There was no grinding.”
“Bullshit, yours was the first hard on I ever felt. Right here against my ribs.” I tap on the side of my stomach.
“Nice. I didn’t think you noticed. Well, I was hoping you w
ouldn’t. I guess my secret is out. You’ve been getting me hard for almost twenty years, baby.”
He turns me around and my ass backs up into his lap as the music pulses through our bodies. He slides his hands down my sides and squeezes my hips. I’m glad I put my heels back on so we can spoon more easily standing up.
Reaching behind me, I grasp his firm thighs and inch back pressing myself closer to him. Aww. Nothing’s changed at all. I can still make this man swell for me.
I turn myself around, wrapping my arms around his waist. We sway from side to side, as his thigh presses between mine. Oh, he makes me hot.
“You having fun, babe?” he asks, as the song switches to a slow one. Lady Antebellum’s All We’d Ever Need.
“Couldn’t be better,” I say, gazing up into his emerald eyes. He grins at me before bending down to kiss my forehead, an act so sweet my belly flutters.
Ty sweeps me into his strong arms, leaning in to nuzzle my neck as I bury my face in his chest. I tilt my head up to plant a single kiss to the tan skin peeking out of the top of his shirt. Calling him sexy would be an understatement.
We dance in slow circles with the music, exploring each other with the gentleness of only our hands. My hands travel up and down his back and I can feel his muscles flex in my palms as his fingertips make small figure eights on my bare back.
I love this man. I love Tyler. I want to tell him, right now. This love is overflowing in my heart and in my mind and I want him to know how I feel, how much I feel. But I can’t. And although the feelings I have right now are so overwhelmingly joyful, a hint of sadness weighs on my heart. I wish things were different for us. I wish we would have taken the time to make this happen so long ago, and maybe we wouldn’t be living nine hours away from each other.
Between The Sheets Page 2
