tease me even though our getaway is only three days—he sends for a Lyft. I reach for the handles of my bags, but he grabs my hand and brings my fingers to his lips.
“I got them.”
The people around us stare as Timber lugs his carry-on while rolling my two suitcases behind him. I don’t blame them. His tight T-shirt shows off his powerful body, and the combination of his muscles and arm tattoos make him look like a biker or a bouncer. One man in particular locks eyes on Timber and mouths his name.
That’s when it occurs to me that I’m not the only one who’s watched Timber’s porn. I flush as I realize the man might think I’m his scene partner.
I guess it doesn’t matter. Isn’t that what I wanted?
The air in Rixton is drier and much warmer than in New York. That’s why I chose this destination. I figured Timber would like to get away from the cold of winter for a few days. Well, that and a strong desire to see Timber in a swimsuit.
Our Lyft is already waiting for us when we get outside. I’m sure there are plenty of drivers who cruise the airport hoping to pick someone up. Timber loads our luggage into the back of the car by himself and opens the door for me.
When I first moved to the Monroe mansion, there were a lot of servants. They wanted to do everything for me. Eventually, we found a comfortable compromise where they mostly left me alone while cleaning and caring for the property. I don’t like being waited on. But this feels different. I didn’t ask him to carry my things. I didn’t mention opening my doors in the contract. He just does it. Like he wants to.
“I did a shoot in Rixton three years ago,” he says as I climb into the car. He shuts my door and walks around to the other side to get in. “It was on the beach. The wind was awful that day, and sand got everywhere. My poor scene partner. He was so uncomfortable.”
I wince. “Do you mean he got sand in his…”
“Yes, he got sand in his ass.” Timber shuts his door.
The driver laughs as he pulls away from the curve. “Hello to you too. I’m Aaron. Welcome to my car.”
“I’m Timber.”
The driver looks back at us through his rearview mirror. “Oh, I know who you are.”
It’s the same when we check in at the hotel. A few people recognize him while the rest probably stare at him because he’s so big and beautiful, but wherever we go, people can’t look away.
As he slides the plastic key into the lock on the door of our suite, despite the fact that he’s carrying all our luggage, he sighs. “You get used to it. I promise. Half of the men in this country have watched me have sex. They’re surprised when they see me in real life.”
“I don’t mind.” It’s just an adjustment. Normally, I like to be as invisible as possible. But I don’t mind being noticed with Timber. In fact, it’s a little thrilling. Everyone’s so curious about me. I’d be curious about me too. I’d be wondering: What man is lucky enough to be staying in a hotel room with Timber?
He opens the door and waits for me to enter.
I stayed in this suite during my last trip to Rixton. There’s a cozy little sitting room just as you walk in that leads to the bedroom door. Inside the bedroom, there’s bed that’s big enough for four people to sleep in and floor to ceiling windows that look out onto the beach. A huge tub sits in the corner. That’s where I spent much of my trip here last time. The cheap paperback I’d brought with me got a little water damaged, but it was worth it.
Timber rolls my suitcases into the bedroom and deposits them in the large closet, slinging his carry-on beside them.
“So you want to go to the beach?” I ask as casually as possible. I don’t know how to navigate this situation. What does he expect from me? I’ve been quiet for most of the trip so far, and the whole purpose of coming here was to get to know each other. Am I messing this up?
He steps behind me and slides his fingers under my shirt to place a warm hand on my stomach. “I told you I’d give you some relief, didn’t I?” His breath is hot