Page 87 of Beyond the Spotlight Discreet Version
“Let them watch. Let them take photos and share them with the world. Let them see how absolutely obsessed I am with you.”
“I knew it. I’m getting that restraining order tomorrow.”
He smiles wide, his blue eyes lighting up and crinkles form around the edges. That half-moon dimple on one side makes an appearance. He’s too adorable. How did I get so lucky?
Reynold takes my hand. I lead him through the store, wandering aisle to aisle, scanning every display, and reading the backs of dozens of books. He holds a basket for all the ones I want to buy. I tell him I’m paying, and we argue over it for at least ten minutes. I know he won’t let me pay, but I’m having fun messing with him.
We take the elevator up to the top floor and enter the rare books room. The space is big. Shelves full of classics worth hundreds to thousands of dollars line the walls. I didn’t find anything I absolutely needed, but Reynold grabbed an Andy Warhol book to add to his impressive rare books collection in his library.
Downstairs in the basement, we find tables full of records for sale. Reynold flips through them—since he has a record player in his office—while I peruse some more shelves of books.
I might need another basket. And where am I putting these? Do I add them to ones Reynold bought and shelved in his library? Are we sharing space like that now? It almost seems… intimate. Like I’ve moved in with him even though I technically already live with him.
It’s nearing ten when we finish shopping. I’m surprised it only took an hour to walk through the place. I suppose it helped that no one else was here getting in the way.
We check out. I don’t look at the total, but I know it’s got to be four digits. The employees ask for photos with Rey, and he happily agrees. He introduces me as his girlfriend and my stomach flutters at the word coming out of his mouth for the second time tonight.
We already agreed to label this relationship as such, but hearing it said is exhilarating.
“Now what?” I ask once we’re back inside his car.
“One last stop before I take you home and finish what we started in this backseat.”
My face heats at the promise and I reach for his pants, intending to go for round two and give him a blow job, but he stops me.
“The things I plan to do to you tonight deserve more than the backseat of a car.”
“And what exactly do you have planned?”
He pulls me into the middle seat next to him, buckling me up and tucking me to his side.
“Those spicy romance books you love so much? Think of one you’ve read with a scene that turned you on. That made you touch yourself. I want to reenact that scene with you, Savannah.”
My heart explodes with anticipation at his words. Fuck. There are too many spicy books I’ve read one handed. I’m too turned on now. I need to calm down before we step back out in public. I rest my head on his shoulder as classical music plays over the speakers. Reynold traces his fingertips over my bare arms, and I close my eyes.
I love that he always needs to be touching me.
It takes about twenty minutes to get to Midtown from the East Village. We’re let out at Rockefeller Center. Reynold pulls me against his body, protecting me as we weave through the crowd. We enter the towering building and take stairs down to an underground concourse. We’re walking fast and I’m thankful my legs are long enough to keep up. I understand why we’re moving so quickly when curious heads turn our way.
We stop at the entrance to Top of the Rock.
“Hi. Rey Michaelson. I spoke to someone named Jules about an escort.”
The woman with a tablet looks up, and her eyes grow wide with awe.
“Yes. Of course. Right this way Mister Michaelson.”
The star struck woman, who can’t be older than twenty, takes us to an elevator. We ascend one floor and exit. After bypassing security, we end up at another elevator. We’re the only ones who get on.
I didn’t miss all the phones pointed at us, taking photos or videos as we made our way past the people waiting in line.
We reach the seventieth floor and an employee meets us to escort us through the crowd. Reynold has two bodyguards, one on either side of us, and another bringing up the rear. I don’t recognize them, so they must be part-time security because Sarah and Henry deserve time off too.
Most people ignore us, but the massive presence of the protection and employee escort has some curious folks following. I tighten my hold on Reynold, and he responds with a kiss to my temple.
“This is intense,” I whisper.
We take an escalator up to another level and exit to an outside space. And the most breathtaking view of the New York City skyline.
