by Mariah Dietz
His phone on the nightstand buzzes. I want to tell him to ignore it and kiss him again to ensure he’ll listen. But I don’t.
He reaches for it and settles back against me, the movement sliding his cock inside me farther—he’s hard again.
“This is Tyler,” he answers.
I close my eyes, my legs falling open as I lift my hips to feel him move inside me again. He pulls out slowly and then thrusts into me equally slowly. It feels so good I nearly moan. He does it again, his eyes on me as he discusses the number of bags and makes the request that they give us another thirty minutes.
“An hour,” I whisper.
He thrusts into me again, silencing me. He hangs up, tossing his phone to the floor. “You’re trouble,” he says.
I lift my hips, urging him even deeper, and we both shudder. He reaches for the pillow he’d used last night and slips it under my hips, and the pressure of him is so delicious my toes curl. I stretch my hands over my head and close my eyes. Ty pulls me closer to where he’s kneeling in front of me, lifting my legs so my calves rest against his chest, and then he thrusts into me, and I moan out his name, unable to believe my body can feel so amazing. Then his thumb goes to my clit, and I explode around him.
The road to San Francisco is one of our longest drives, and before we even began the trek, we ate breakfast and discussed the potential of staying somewhere else for the night and finishing the drive early to allow plenty of time for my event tomorrow night.
“Hey, Chloe,” Nessie says from the back seat as I read a recent article published about a new super-Earth planet.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Ask Cooper.”
Nessie laughs. “Chloe, truth or dare.”
I sigh. “Truth?”
“If you had to change your degree tomorrow, what would you choose and why?”
I blink back my surprise, expecting something about Tyler or something far more embarrassing.
“Galactic astronomy.”
“That’s the same thing,” Cooper says.
“It’s so different,” I tell him. “Galactic would be studying the Milky Way, and my major is extragalactic, which studies other galaxies.”
“So, you wouldn’t change and do something like become a science teacher or a veterinarian or something?” Nessie asks. “Something that takes less school and physics?”
I grin. “Maybe if I could be like a professional ice cream taster or coffee reviewer. Are those possibilities?”
Nessie laughs. “Absolutely. Let your mind run wild.”
“Okay, then maybe a professional coffee taster slash ice cream taster. What would you do?”
“Travel blogger, remember? You’ll be doing this with me, traveling to taste all your coffees,” Nessie tells me.
“I’d be a Lego designer,” Cooper says.
“What about you, Ty?” Nessie asks.
He shakes his head. “The hotels are all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
Something is comforting in his answer. Maybe it’s the idea of security because he doesn’t want more or different, or the fact they mean so much to him because it’s a huge part of his family’s history and that holds significance to him, but regardless, I find comfort in his answer.
25
Tyler
“This is it,” Chloe says, looking across the line of tollbooths as traffic comes to a stop before we cross the Golden Gate Bridge.
The sun is beginning to set, making the sky appear almost purple. The vibe in the car has been easy today. It’s amazing how in the short period, so much—seemingly everything—has changed, including me. I consider those first hours of our trip when I was debating staying up all night to bomb it to Washington and how all the details and stops and luggage seemed inconvenient and burdensome. And now that only a few days are remaining, I’m dreading the end.
“How many days do we have here?” Vanessa asks, making me question if her thoughts are in the same lane of melancholy and denial as mine.
“Tomorrow’s our only full day,” Chloe says, facing the window as we inch closer to the tollbooth.
“One day?” Disappointment is apparent in Vanessa’s tone, heard louder than her words. “What time does your event start?”
“Seven. But you guys don’t have to go. With us having so little time here, if you guys want to go hang out, I will totally understand.”
“No, we’ll definitely be there,” Vanessa says.
“Just think about it. You don’t have to answer now. Also, if you guys want to do your own thing in the morning since it’s our last city, that’s completely cool with me. I think I’m going to hike to the bridge and then try to see the pier in the afternoon.”
I moved my meetings up to begin at seven in an attempt to get off early tomorrow. I’m hopeful things can get wrapped up by noon so I can spend the afternoon with Chloe, but after how things went in San Diego, I’m reluctant to even mention the possibility.
“Why are you hiking to the bridge? Aren’t we about to cross it?” Cooper asks.
“Yeah, but you can walk on it,” Chloe tells him. “It sounds like it’s a nice hike. Most of it’s along the bay.”
“What about Alcatraz?” Coop suggests.
Chloe shakes her head. “You have to book reservations in advance.”
“I thought you did?” Vanessa asks. “Didn’t you forward the ticket info to me?” I catch sight of Vanessa reaching for her phone in my rearview mirror.
Chloe tips her chin upward, closing her eyes. “They were for the wrong date.”
“Wrong date?” Vanessa asks.
“We’d planned to get here last night, originally.”
The reminder packs a wallop of a punch. We’d left Austin late and stayed in Odessa overnight, causing everything to get pushed back by a day, including arriving here in San Francisco.
Our conversation in the hotel reception back in Texas plays in my mind, the way she’d tried broaching her frustrations for changing our plans, and my reaction to tell her it didn’t matter.
The queue of cars we’re in moves forward, and when we reach the tollbooth, I shove the money toward the man, my impatience rumbling like an afternoon storm in the South. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask her.
She glances at me, a shade of hesitancy across her features that I haven’t seen in days. I haven’t missed it.
I reach to hit my call button on the dash, but Chloe shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get us tickets. It’s totally fine. We only have one day, and Alcatraz takes several hours, so it would be difficult to make it all fit.”
My thoughts turn restless as annoyance creeps over me, guilt and regret working their best to deny culpability and refute that she should have told me. We could have canceled a day in Vegas and made it here.
“This is amazing,” Chloe says, her attention focused on the bridge, ducking her head in an attempt to see the high towers and cables.
“We should go and do something tonight,” Vanessa suggests. “It’s not that late. Even if we just take a walk or something.”
Chloe brushes her hand over mine, the bridge and bay outside her window forgotten as her eyes rove over my face. “It’s not a big deal.”
I blow out a breath, knowing she’s right and struggling to admit the fact. Her fingers weave with mine.
“We’re staying by Fisherman’s Wharf,” Chloe says. “Let’s check-in, and we can see how everyone’s feeling and maybe go down to the Pier 39.”
“Yes!” Vanessa answers, ducking so she can see something that she points out to Cooper.
“I expected more hills,” Cooper says.
I chuckle. “Just wait. You’ll find plenty of big-ass hills here.” I gently squeeze Chloe’s fingers, releasing a breath and the tension that threatens to spoil our limited time.
She grins, reading me like an open book.
The hotel looks out over the ocean, a pristine view that I know will steal Chloe’s attention during our short time here.
“It sm
ells good up here,” Vanessa says, taking a deep breath from the patio we’re gathered on, picking at the charcuterie board that welcomed us to the room.
“You’re smelling the Italian restaurant over there,” Cooper says, leaning forward.
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “It’s the sea air.”
Cooper’s forehead creases with disbelief. “Pretty sure it’s the garlic bread.”
Chloe chuckles, turning to face us from the rail she’s leaning against. “Forget the garlic bread. We need to go find some sourdough.”
“Yes!” Vanessa says, nodding.
Chloe shivers as she takes a step closer to me. “I need to change though. It’s cold tonight.” It’s not that cold, but compared to Vegas and the other cities we’ve been in, it feels chilly tonight.
I glance toward the living room where the trail of employees is starting to leave. “Our things should be in the rooms.” I open the glass door that leads into the small division between the dining room that sits eight and the living room.
“This might be my favorite hotel,” Vanessa says as the others follow me inside. “The chandeliers and the beige colors with dark floors and wood… It’s beautiful.”
“I like this one, too,” Chloe says. “But I really loved the New Orleans hotel.”
“Vegas was definitely the winner,” Cooper says. “There was a water fountain in our living room.”
Chloe laughs. “Vegas might be my favorite, too.” She glances at me. “The views there were pretty flawless.” Behind her benign words, I hear the insinuation, and they paint a mental picture of her up against the glass window, bringing a wave of desire to crash over me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says. “I’m going to change into warmer clothes.”
“I need to grab my charger,” I lie, following her down the hallway where she pauses, still unfamiliar with the new space we haven’t yet toured.
I place my hand on her hip and guide her to the door at the end of the hall on the right. “The rooms here are smaller, and we only have two bedrooms.”
Her gaze slides to me. Though she’s been staying with me since Vegas, her things have still been unpacked in a third room until now. The lights turn on as we step into the room, where a large bed sits atop a rug matching the same pattern as those in the living room. There’s another wall of windows, shorter than most of the hotels we’ve stayed at, and on the other wall is a large glass-encased shower with a tub where Chloe’s attention is paused.
“There’s a bathtub in here?”
“Is that a question?” I tease, and that this wows her is incredibly endearing. “It’s called a wet room,” I continue, “and it’s in here because of the views.” I sweep my arm toward the windows.
“But anyone can see in!”
“Whatever kinky thought you’re considering, I’m game,” I tell her.
Her cheeks darken with a blush. “Cooper and Nessie are waiting for us.”
I shrug, taking a step closer to her as her gaze darts to the opened door. “Want to time how long it takes for me to get you off?”
She laughs, taking a step back as she shakes her head. “No.”
I take another step, and she takes two more backward.
I charge after her like we’re on the field, and she quietly squeals when I grab her. We twist and fall back on the bed, her chest pressed against mine as my back hits the mattress. She giggles, her eyes closed, not fighting to get up.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Alcatraz?”
Her smile starts to slip, so I run my hand over her back in an attempt to relax her and assure her I’m not feeling unhinged about the minor detail. “At first because it didn’t seem worth arguing about, but after Vegas, it seemed hurtful and silly to mention it because if we’d have left a day earlier, it might mean that everything would have changed. You might have worked more and not have gone to the club with us, or maybe we wouldn’t have gone out at all, or maybe you would have canceled the poker game…” She shakes her head. “If I had to choose between going to Alcatraz and you, I’d choose you.” Her green eyes balance my racing thoughts, a shy smile curving her lips that I erase with a kiss, burying my fingers into her hair. She opens her mouth for me instantly, her tongue greeting mine. Above me, she settles, the heat of her body and the demand in her kiss make me want to forget about leaving the room, drunk on my need to feel and taste her.
“Guys! Let’s Go!” Vanessa yells from the hallway.
Chloe laughs against my lips.
I tip my head back and take a deep breath through my nose, my erection pressed to her core.
“Don’t make me come in there!” Vanessa calls out in warning.
“I’m just getting changed,” Chloe calls back.
“You have one minute.”
Chloe smiles, dropping a kiss to my mouth. “Her threats aren’t empty. Let’s go check out the boardwalk, and then we can resume.”
I run a hand down her back, stopping at her ass, where I gently squeeze. “They have doughnuts on the pier and a sourdough restaurant around the corner.”
Her eyes flash with a smile. “You had me at doughnuts.”
I scoff, watching her retreat to the closet where she slows and looks at me over her shoulder before pulling off her shirt and dropping her shorts so they pool at her feet.
She stands in the doorway in a black thong and a matching bra.
I’m off the bed in a second, thoughts of doughnuts and the pier forgotten.
“Guys!” Vanessa stands in the doorway. “What’s taking so long?”
“You have the patience of a toddler,” Chloe calls from the closet.
“You never have any chill when we get to a new city.” She turns her attention to me. “You’ve ruined her.”
Chloe laughs, stepping out of the closet in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, a hoodie over her arm. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
I adjust myself and try to recall what the focus for tomorrow’s first meeting is to distract myself from Chloe’s too-brief strip show.
We follow the sidewalk that leads into Fisherman’s Wharf, where shops crowd both sides of the busy sidewalk. We stop in front of the cafe that I’d mentioned to Chloe, with extravagantly shaped sourdough creations in their windows, before we duck inside and get seated for dinner.
I set my hand on Chloe’s thigh, missing the feel of her bare skin. “Did you see Ghirardelli Square is here? They have a whole menu of ice cream.”
She grins. “It’s on my list for tomorrow.”
“We’ll have to come back. There’s so much to see in San Francisco. We just purchased the neighboring property and are currently in the process of obtaining all the necessary permits and quotes to join the two buildings together. We can find all sorts of excuses to come down and check on it. We could do it over Thanksgiving since you guys don’t go home for the holiday.”
Chloe raises a shoulder. “That sounds amazing, but I kind of like our current tradition.” She sets her hand on mine, evoking a string of memories from the past two years of celebrating the holiday in their apartment with pizzas, under-baked or overbaked pies, board games, and films, reminding me that with Chloe, it’s always time that holds the highest significance.
“A long weekend then.”
She grins. “I can get on board with that.” She takes a drink of her water, blinking as a pronounced frown mars her face. “The water here tastes like it does in Florida.”
“Point for Washington,” Cooper says.
My phone vibrates and then vibrates again and again in quick succession. I reach for it, noting the multiple messages are all from Vivian. I scroll through the first and second, working to read through the data and facts she’s compiled because, like always, Vivian relies solely on facts and refuses to talk in layman’s terms. The final message is a screenshot of the penal code for felony embezzlement, which for Las Vegas can be charged if there’s theft of property or services exceeding five thousand dollars.
I scroll back throu
gh the other two emails, realizing they’re spreadsheets showing the mess of discrepancies she’s caught totaling over ten million dollars.
I breathe out slowly, knowing that I need to be fully certain of this information before I take it to my dad because if I’m wrong, this will only accomplish the opposite of what I sought out to do.
“Is everything okay?” Chloe asks.
I nod, setting my phone down as I struggle to wrap my thoughts around the situation. “Yeah, it’s just the accountant I’ve been working with in regard to Avery. She thinks Avery’s embezzled close to ten million.”
Cooper whistles.
“What are you going to do?” Chloe asks, setting her hand on my thigh like she needs a constant connection between us as well.
I slide my hand beneath hers and watch her fingers seamlessly align with mine as they fall together and shake my head. “Contact one of our lawyers. We can’t fire him in the same manner that we would another employee. We’ll need to be a hundred percent sure of everything to draw charges.” I run a hand along my jaw, considering what will happen in his future and how the decision largely rests on my shoulders. The realization makes my stomach turn for a moment, my determination to prove myself to my dad now seemingly tied with a man’s future.
Our waiter arrives before my thoughts can funnel very far, and we order an assortment of sandwiches and bread bowls before the girls are out of their seats and telling us they’re going to be at the gift shop.
“Ten million,” Cooper repeats, shaking his head. “Who does that?”
“He could go to prison for up to five years,” I tell Cooper, waiting for his reaction.
“Good. He should be going to prison for longer.”
I sit back in my seat, knowing Cooper’s history and dislike for the prison system. “He could potentially be charged as a felon.”
Cooper shakes his head, his eyes bright as he tears his eyes from following the girls and turns his full attention to me. “You’re feeling bad about possibly blowing the whistle on this guy?”
