Page 116 of Grave Misgivings
He took care of Geo for ten years. He was a source of comfort and friendship, and all at once, I feel thankful for the lumbering man in front of me.
“Noted.” I offer him my hand. “Thanks.”
He shakes it, his grip firm.
“Room seventeen,” he says, dropping his hand. He slides his lanyard off and hands it to me.
I hold it in my hand, understanding befalling me. My lips twist into a grin.
“Thanks, Matty.”
Mateo growls, flipping me off as he turns around. “It’s Mateo to you!”
When I find room seventeen, I have to take a deep breath of my own. My heart races, my pulse heated as I slide the card and open the door.
Geo stands in the center of the room, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His gaze captures mine, and I shut the door, the mechanism whirring to tell me it’s locked.
It’s just us.
Now, and forever.
I walk up to him slowly and he makes no point to move.
“You were amazing up there,” I tell him as I lean in and kiss him. I can taste his sweat and tears on his lips, and it’s a sweetness I never thought I’d know.
“You really think so?” he asks, innocently, as if he has no idea how powerful he is.
How utterlyperfecthe is.
He’s a fucking miracle.
“Yeah, baby,” I reply as I run my hands through his hair.
“How’d you get back here?” He leans his forehead against mine.
“Mateo let me in.” I smile.
I don’t miss the way his lips turn up into a grin.
“Oh, so you two have had your coming to Jesus moment?”
“Something like that.” I kiss him again.
“Are we good now?” he asks softly. “I mean, I know I owed you for the Gardens, and then meeting my friends, and taking advantage of you—” His sarcasm is as sweet as it is sexy.
I kiss him with all that I am. His lips move against mine slowly, and he opens his mouth, letting me in to caress his smooth, warm tongue as I hold him close.
“So fucking good,” I whisper against his mouth.
His hand slides in my hair, and I can feel the tungsten steel of his birthday promise ring cool against my neck.
When we break apart, he leaves me standing, heading for the fridge. He brings a bottle of champagne out, his grin sexy and wicked.
“Thought you couldn’t drink champagne,” I tease as he pops the cork.
“Well, technically, we wouldn’t even be here had I not had champagne.” He shrugs. “Seems appropriate.”
“Well, in that case,” I respond as he takes a swig.
