up to the doors, swiped his card, and walked through the door.
I followed behind him much more slowly, taking everything in from the gold trim around the doors, to the chandelier that was hanging in the hallway.
But nothing could’ve prepared me for the room that we were walking into.
“Holy shit,” I breathed as I saw it.
It was… completely open.
We had the entire top floor of the hotel to ourselves. The back wall was nothing but windows, and every single drape was open, allowing you to see the Austin city skyline.
Everything was lit up, and it made me gasp in surprise at how cool it looked.
I’d never seen anything so beautiful before in my life.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This is amazing.”
Bourne’s big shoulders entered my vision for a short moment, momentarily drawing my attention to the shower that was in the back of the room.
The shower that was all glass. All clear glass.
The shower that, if I was inside, Bourne would be able to see every single little detail.
The only thing that didn’t have a clear view of everything was a small door that must’ve been a toilet.
Thank God for small favors.
My eyes drifted back to the thing that I’d been avoiding looking at—the bed.
It was in the middle of the room. A four-poster bed that was so big I wasn’t even sure that it could be classified as a king-sized.
“Wow,” I breathed, mostly to myself.
Bourne grunted, seeing where my eyes were directed. “Fancy.”
Fancy wasn’t even the right word.
Though, it was fancy.
But when I looked at that bed, I thought of sex. Hard. Soft. Slow. Easy. Fast. Every single way that one could have sex.
It could happen in that bed.
I walked up to it and dropped my ass onto it, looking up into the gauzy canopy above my head and seeing the glittering blackness of sky.
“There’s a hole in the roof,” I murmured.
Was that awe in my voice? Because holy shit, I wanted to lie down there, with Bourne on top of me, and stare through the gauzy curtains while he pounded…
“There is,” Bourne murmured. “This fuckin’ place is fancy.”
“You already said that,” I pointed out. “You’re not very original.”
He shot me a roll of his eyes.
“I don’t know what else to call it,” he admitted. “I mean… it’s fancy. That’s what it is. I’m scared to walk across the white rug in fear that I’ll get it dirty with my shoes.”
I looked at him pointedly. “They gave away our rooms. And they didn’t want to even give us this place. I don’t care if your dirty work boots get their fancy ass rug dirty.”
Bourne’s lips twitched as he walked toward the shower.
He peeked inside and then glanced over at me.
I looked away, studying my ripped holey jeans and my scuffed red Converse.
I needed new ones.
I just hadn’t really had the time or the inclination to go to the mall to get them.
When I wasn’t working, I had Asa. And Asa didn’t do the mall.
Apparently, it was ingrained in the Y chromosomes that they didn’t mall. Especially when it involved shoe shopping with your mom.
When Asa was with Booth, the last thing I wanted to do was brave the mall and pass the Cookie Factory.
“What’s on your agenda for tomorrow?” Bourne asked as he walked farther into the room.
I swallowed hard and ran my hand over the softest down comforter I’d ever felt.
“I have meetings until four in the afternoon. What about you?” I asked.
Looking up, I found him kicking his shoes off and launching them to the side of the room so we didn’t chance tripping over them.
“I have to go get some equipment for the SWAT team tomorrow around nine. Then, at eleven thirty, I have an appointment with my tattoo artist to get started on my new tattoo.”
I was curious, so I didn’t bother to hide my curiosity.
“What are you getting?” I asked.
He plopped down in the chair nearest the bed. A deep red velvet chair that came up high over his head in a spectacular flair. His arms were propped on the chair’s massive arms, and he was staring at me as if something I was doing was interesting to him.
I looked down and realized I was ripping a hole in my jeans. Or, more accurately, a bigger hole.
I was pulling on the strands of frayed denim, pulling it further and further apart without even realizing it.
“Why are you doing that?” he asked, his voice deceptively quiet.
I licked my lips and shrugged. “I’m nervous.”
“Why?” he asked.
Why?
He’d ignored me