He nabbed his jeans on the way to the door.
He disappeared down the hall.
When he did, I shot out of bed, snatched up the closest piece of clothing (which unfortunately happened to be his Henley) and darted into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I cleaned up.
I used the amenities provided to brush my teeth.
And I did all this knowing when I walked out of that room I should get dressed and walk out of the Hotel Teatro never to walk in again unless I was dining at the Nickel.
This meaning never seeing Nick again.
He could be playful. A smartass. Honest. Hot. Funny. He could look out for me.
And he’d seen my scar and he didn’t find it hideous.
I needed to disappear from his life.
I didn’t do that.
Like my mind was not my own, my body controlled by that mind, I walked out of the bathroom, sipped coffee, drank champagne, nibbled from a fruit plate and lectured Nick Sebring on the fact that women who talked incessantly were probably very attracted to him and therefore nervous and he should be kinder.
I also shared some other things about the sisterhood I felt he should know, particularly my views on men smacking women’s asses.
He’d grinned at me through some of it. Said sarcastic things through other parts. Was a definite smartass on more than one occasion. And throughout this, he was playful.
And highly appealing.
So after room service, I got down on my knees and sucked him off.
But truthfully, I liked his dick. It was pretty and he tasted divine.
So I would have done that anyway.
Chapter Nine
Aesthetic
Olivia
Late that afternoon, after leaving Hotel Teatro (checking out ten minutes after Nick and I battled it out in a final kiss before he walked out our hotel room door), I was at my computer in my home office paying my bills.
My phone rang.
I looked to it, my stomach flipping, my heart leaping and I closed my eyes tight.
What was the matter with me?
Don’t answer, Livvie. Don’t answer. Do NOT answer, Livvie.
My hand darted out and I answered.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Nick replied. “No salons open tonight. I’m not feelin’ the Teatro. Come to my place. Seven. I’ll feed you before I fuck you. I’ll text the address.”
His place?