What I wanted to hear was his words. I'd make sure to get that during the weekend if nothing else.

Chapter 48

"It looks cooler on television," I whined to Tristan, talking about Hollywood Boulevard.

He smiled at me and shrugged, as he pulled our rental car into one of the spots at the front of the hotel we were staying at. We had just spent the last two hours driving through Hollywood's shitty traffic while I looked out the window at the various buildings and attractions I'd only seen on the tube in the past, and then stopped to eat at a random diner close to the hotel. He'd suggested that we pull over to sightsee, but I convinced him it was okay to head straight to the hotel since it was already close to midnight and I was pooped. We got out of the car, and I helped him pull my suitcase out of the trunk.

The plane ride had been filled with a gay flight attendant flirting with Tristan, who took it with more grace than any other man ever could, and then the lady next to him accidentally spilled her cup of water into his lap. When the old hag leaned over to try and wipe at his crotch with her napkin, I smacked her hand away and made him do it himself. Shit. If I hadn't touched it yet, then I sure as hell wasn't about to let some stranger touch the promised land.

Tristan yanked the handle of my suitcase out of my hand and smiled sheepishly while walking quickly through the moving doors of the hotel. "Walk faster, I need to pee," he called out from his place two steps ahead.

He walked toward the front desk, dropped his duffel onto the floor, and settled my rolling suitcase against his thigh while pulling out his wallet to talk to the employee. I stood just a few feet behind him, looking around while he checked us in, taking in the seats and couches in the lobby. Tristan hadn't told me hardly anything about where we were staying, or what we exactly we were doing, and I didn't bother asking because he could have said we were staying at some hole in the wall motel with Big Lou working the front desk, vibrating beds, and tube televisions on the dresser for all I cared and I would have been fine.

"Ready to go up?" his husky voice whispered into my ear, so close to the skin I could feel the moisture from his hot mouth on me even after he pulled away.

I only managed to nod in agreement before I was walking right next to him on our way to the elevators. He had two keycards in his hand with the duffel pulled over a shoulder like a purse and his other hand was wrapped around my suitcase handle. "Do we have two different rooms?" I asked him, before I even realized that the words were on my lips. I had thought we were sharing a room.

Green eyes bore into mine while we waited for the doors to open up. "No, we're sharing one," he said, and a thick shiver of pleasure ran through my body. My whole being noticed that he didn't ask me if it was okay that we were sharing one, or even made excuses as to why we weren't in two different rooms. He was just telling me and I fucking loved it.

I was sure my face turned a shade of pink only found in nature on roses, but I could care less; my smile probably rivaled that of a person in a mental institution. "Okay."

The smile on his face that he gave me in return wasn't remotely friendly, I could tell by the look in his eyes and it made my armpits start to sweat. The elevator doors opened up that instant, breaking me out of the trance I was in as a result of that indecipherable smile. Moments later, he swiped the keycard and pushed the door open to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed set against the opposite wall with a big screen television facing it. The hotel was much nicer than any of the budget hotels I'd been used to staying at in the past, so I was happy.

"I'm going to jump in the shower," he said, dropping his bag onto the floor by the television and heading to the door across from the bed, which I could only assume to be the bathroom.