Chapter Eight
* * *
AFTER CLIMBING THE steep front stoop and another four flights of stairs, and undoing the two locks, Duke and I entered the apartment I shared with Roxanna. Everything was just as I had left it. It seemed Roxanna had weathered the storm with her mystery man at his place. I changed clothes, packed a few things (clean underwear! Make up! My own clothes! My laptop!). I found some extra emergency cash I had stashed in my jewelry box. An empty space stared up at me.
“I lost our ring,” I said sadly.
“What are you talking about?” Duke asked.
“The fake engagement ring I got for our charade. I lost it.”
“It was just cubic zirconia, right?”
“Yeah, but it had sentimental memories. I feel like my luck went bad as soon as I lost it,” I said with a sigh.
“Jane . . .” He was looking at me earnestly. My heart started to thud. He seemed larger than life in this small room.
“What is it?”
He hesitated. And then said, “I’m sure it’ll turn up. Let’s go get you a hot shower and room service.”
“Just let me leave a note for Roxanna.” I found some paper—the back of a credit card bill—and scrawled a quick note.
Heading up to The Lowell hotel at 63rd and Madison with Duke. Come over. Hope you survived the storm.
With a bag packed, we went back down the stairs and tried to get a cab but didn’t have any luck. I’d seen more available cabs during a rainy rush hour. So we walked more than 50 blocks. Still, it wasn’t as far as the distance Elizabeth walked to Netherfield.
THE LOBBY OF the Lowell Hotel was, in a word, fancy. I was, in a word, completely unpresentable. It’d been a while since I showered. Days had passed since I had applied make up or even combed my hair. I had just walked, like, fifty blocks. All I could think about was how close I was to a hot shower, a hot meal and clean underwear. Heaven.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Austen,” the posh lady at the front desk said when we walked in. “Your room is ready now.”
We took the elevator up to the tenth floor and walked down the hall to our room. Duke opened the door and we stepped into a massive suite.
The spacious sitting room was decorated in understated neutrals—blues, greys, beige. There were big couches you could sink into, a gleaming wooden dining table that could seat eight, a big flat screen TV, plenty of light from large windows and French doors that opened to a private terrace that overlooked a quiet courtyard. To the right I saw double doors leading into a master bedroom with a king-sized bed made up with crisp white linens and loaded with pillows. Opposite was another room with two double beds—in case Roxanna wanted to crash with us, Duke explained.
Everything was gorgeous, luxurious, and I wanted to weep with relief and gratitude.
“Don’t cry yet. Not until you’ve seen the bathroom. And the shower.”
The bathroom was a large expanse of grey marble with a deep soaking tub and a separate glass walled shower. Freshly fold white towels were stacked on a rack, and fluffy terry cloth robes were hung up on the door.
Heaven was a five-star hotel.
Duke took my bags out my hand.
“Why don’t we get you into a luxurious, hot shower,” he said, leading me back to the bathroom. “You take as long as you want and don’t worry about me. I’ll keep myself amused with the Wi-Fi.”
I smiled. “You and your Internet obsession.”
“My Internet obsession is paying for this room,” he said with a grin. Then he said, “Enjoy,” and shut the doors behind him.
I turned on the water. When the glass walls began to steam up, I stripped off my clothes and took a good look at myself in the mirror. The bruises on my arms stood out. They had faded to a gross yellow-ish purple. But if I looked past the marks of that bad thing, the rest of my skin was lovely. Pale, smooth, soft. My breasts were still firm and round. I was still pretty slender—all that walking around the city and the Hurricane diet. I was still pretty. Except for that haunted look in my eyes.
I wanted to let it go. On the other side of the door was a man who cared for me. He took care of me. He loved me. He would never hurt me. I wanted to revel in that. I did not want to be caught up in bad memories of an attack I didn’t deserve by a man I no longer loved.
I stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over me. I unwrapped a fresh bar of soap and I lathered up. I tried to wash it all away. What had happened would never leave me. But I didn’t want it to define me. So I washed my hair—twice. I scrubbed and washed until I used up that little mini hotel bar of soap.
Eventually, I felt clean. Refreshed.
I had put all my heartache and troubles onto the page—literally, that notebook was tucked into my bag—so I didn’t need to carry it around any longer. And I had washed away Sam’s cruel touch. I hadn’t done anything wrong. But I had a lot of things going right.
I wrapped myself in one of those fluffy robes and I blow dried my hair just because I could. Then, having washed my past down the drain, I went out to my future.
“Hey,” I said, pressing a kiss on Duke’s cheek. His head was, as usual, bent over his phone and laptop. But he looked up at me, blue eyes sparkling. “Hey you.”
“I feel better.”
“You look good. Really good.”
“I think I might lie down for a moment,” I said, giving him a coy smile over my shoulder as I strolled into the bedroom. A king-sized bed beckoned.
“I think I might join you,” he said, shutting his laptop and setting aside his phone.
“But the Wi-Fi might get lonely . . .” I murmured.
“F*ck the Wi-Fi,” he said as he stood and followed me into the bedroom.
He caught up with me, pressing a kiss on the back of my neck. I sighed and turned my head to kiss him. Duke’s hand stretched around to untie the knot of my robe before pushing it to the floor.
Totally nude, I turned to face him.
His gaze darkened when it settled on my bruises.
“Duke,” I whispered. “Make me forget everything.”
“As my girl wishes,” he murmured. “Tell me what you want.”
And then he gazed leisurely at the rest of me. I was achingly aware of his attentions focused on my breasts—my nipples hardened into stiff peaks from his attentions. Then his gaze traveled lower, to the curve of my hips and lower. A fire started in my belly. I was naked, but I wasn’t cold. Not when my lover looked at me like that.
“I want you,” I whispered.
His gaze smoldered. I felt it everywhere, from the curve of my calves, to the soft skin of my thighs, and higher and higher.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
His mouth crashed down on mine for the kind of kiss that made a girl weak in the knees and forgetful of everything. I fisted my hands around the jersey cotton of his T-shirt, pulling him close to me, feeling the fabric brush against my breasts. I might have moaned. The Facebook T-shirt he wore soon hit the floor and my palms skimmed across the muscles of his chest, going lower, until I hit the waistband of his jeans. I undid the button, the zipper, and pushed his jeans down his hips.
His erection was freed and I took the hot, hard length of it in my hand, stroking in a firm, steady grasp. His head rolled back, eyes closed, a murmur across his lips.
He wanted me.
But I was in control. That made me feel incredibly sexy and ready.
I strolled over to the bed, an inviting glance over my shoulder. Duke followed. We lay side by side on the bed, just kissing as if it were the end all, be all.
I ran my fingers through his hair.
He caressed my breasts and their sensitive peaks with his hands and mouth until I was gasping with almost intolerable amounts of pleasure. Almost.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered again.
“I want more. Lower.”
His hand slid lower, to tease me further. His hands, which I noted out of the corner of my eye, were bruised from the fight earlier today. Hands that had hurt Sam so badly earlier in defense of my honor were now stoking the fire burning inside of me, making me forget all other thoughts. I just wanted to feel . . .
. . . his fingers, expertly touching me in the most sensitive place with a gentle but insistent pressure that was driving me crazy.
. . . his lips against mine, his tongue tangled with mine.
. . . his body, all firm muscles and soft skin, pressed against mine.
I breathed in deeply, savoring his scent. I threaded my fingers through his already tousled hair wanting more of him.
“I want you,” I whispered. It was only then that he reached for a condom, put it on and pushed inside of me. I gasped and arched my back. With Duke inside me and his arms around me, I stopped thinking and started just feeling each and every strong thrust. There was the fullness of his cock inside of me, moving in a steady, relentless rhythm. And I couldn’t get a decent breath of air. My heart was pounding. The heat and tension within were building . . . pushing against the boundaries . . . my skin was hot and insanely sensitive. He reached down, touched me there, pressed a kiss on my mouth and I couldn’t take it anymore. I cried out. He came with me, thrusting hard as he shouted my name.
Afterwards, I lay in his embrace on a king-sized bed with luxuriously soft sheets in a five-star hotel room. So what if I had lost my cubic zirconia ring? I could buy another. So what if I had lost my pages? I could rewrite them. I was damn lucky after all, because I was safe and protected and warmed by the arms of a man who loved me.
The perfect moment was interrupted by a knock at the door.