“Ohh,” I moaned. “That’s . . .”
“Incredible,” he whispered in my ear as he moved, slow but purposeful, leaving me with an exquisite ache on each thrust.
It didn’t feel like fucking.
This felt like connecting.
Like true and honest intimacy.
Like John was letting me see another side of him.
How he needed it. How he wanted it. And as he stroked faster, his breath coming harder, I knew it was more than simply a craving for dominance in the bedroom.
“It’s never been like this,” he rasped out as he neared the edge.
It wasn’t just a release for him.
It was us, the way we came together.
14
Mindy
The only concessions I wanted for the night before I left for New York were that I got to choose the restaurant—my favorite dim sum place—and where we would spend the night—his place, where there weren’t boxes to remind us I was getting on a plane tomorrow afternoon.
There was no argument from John, except for a spirited discussion about how I ate more than my share of pot stickers and how that wouldn’t have been a problem if we’d gotten two orders like I’d suggested. It escalated to a chopsticks duel as we both tried to grab the last one from the basket. Laughing didn’t make it easier.
I was going to miss this so much.
Would miss John desperately.
Would miss the us that we were now and the us that we could become.
But those were tomorrow thoughts.
Tonight, I wanted to zoom in on the moment. The connection. The chemistry.
Because John’s hands were busy. On my knee. Then my thigh. My arm. Now, as we were finishing, he ran his hand through my hair.
This.
My God, I would miss it. And there was no point hiding that. “I’ll miss this,” I said.
“Me too. All of this.” He took a beat, as he seemed to be thinking. “Will you come back at all? To visit, maybe more than here or there?”
My heart beat faster. We were circling the thing I wanted most—a chance with him. Any chance with him was better than no attempt at all.
“I would, if you wanted me to.”
He leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek. “I would. I definitely would want that.”
He wasn’t asking me to stay, but a long-distance relationship made more sense anyway.
It was more logical.
More doable.
It was incredibly possible, and I felt a little lighter, a little better knowing he might want it too.
Part of me was terrified to ask for more, knowing that more could lead to heartbreak. But it might also lead to something wonderful.
I swallowed down my fear.
“So do you want to try a long-distance relationship?” I asked, putting it out there, because that was the only way to know.
His smile spread nice and easy, just the way I liked it. “Funny that you asked, because I was going to suggest the same thing.”
Okay, I was a little bit giddy now.
Even more so when he threaded his fingers through my hair and drew me close for a kiss.
When the kiss ended, I took a breath, straightening my shoulders.
“I’ll stake out some interesting eateries for us to try when you visit,” I said, trying to make this as normal as possible. To think of this as the beginning of long-distance John and Mindy and not the end of Las Vegas John and Mindy. “And we can go to our old favorites when I come here.”
John grabbed a dumpling. “It’s cute how you think we’re going to leave the bedroom when you visit.”
“We’re going to need nourishment at some point.”
“There is nothing you can’t get delivered in Vegas. It’s gotta be the same in New York. Maybe even more so.”
I’d run through all the scenarios already—it would be harder for him to get away, so I might have to do more of the traveling. And as much as I loved the sexy times—and, oh hell, did I love them—we weren’t hormone-driven teenagers. Phone calls and FaceTime could hold us between visits.
“On the subject of places for things to be delivered . . .”
John raised his brows as I overstretched the segue, but he waited for me to go on.
“I’ve decided to hold on to my condo and sublease it for now.” I kept my tone casual, but it was a pretty big signal—if he wanted to see it. I tried not to search for any clues to his reaction. I wanted cautious optimism, to match my own feelings, but as long as it wasn’t outright rejection, I could work with it.
After a thoughtful beat, he said, “So you’ve decided not to decide yet?”
Oh, he had me pegged. I laughed at myself, and at how he’d deciphered my reasoning a lot quicker than I had deciphered it myself.
“New York is just a step on the ladder. I’m not sure yet where the next step will be. Maybe I’ll get this hotel property set up and running smoothly, and then move on to another one in a few years.”
And who was to say that might not be in Vegas?
That was what I wanted to get across without putting pressure on him by saying it straight-out.
For a man with such a stoic demeanor, there were all kinds of things going on in his expression. Things I couldn’t fully read but desperately wanted to. So desperately that I was afraid I’d see what I wanted whether it was there or not.
“Mindy . . .” He reached for me again, sliding his hand to the back of my neck.
His phone rang before he could finish. Which was a shame, since it looked like it would be something good.
He let go of my hand and pulled out his cell. His grimace when he saw the screen was a shame too, for a different reason. There wasn’t enough panic for it to be Sophie in labor. That meant work was on the line.
He’d once said the quiet since closing the Thomas Paige case was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I was pretty sure I heard a thunk.
“Go ahead,” I said with a smile to reassure him. “I’m not going to make a dash for it while you’re on the call.”
“Hopefully it’s something small.” Then into the phone, he said, “Winston here.”
I caught a few words—ten million, found unconscious, APB, and outgoing flights. That wasn’t trivial.
It was sounding less trivial every minute. Finally, he hung up, and I wasn’t surprised when he said, “I have to go.”
“Of course you do, John.” I’d already signaled the server for the check and moved my napkin from my lap to the table. “The waiter is bringing the check, but if you need to leave right away, I can wait on it and call for an Uber to get home.”
He was quickly locking into work mode—I imagined his mind was already at the crime scene—but he registered the offer and came back to the moment with a crooked smile that made everything in me clench. “It’s not so urgent that I’d be off the hook if I skipped out on the bill.”
Then that hint of humor vanished. He paid the server in cash, and we headed out, his hand on my lower back like he didn’t realize he was keeping contact with me as long as possible.
When we were outside, he finished a quick text then turned to me. “I can drive you home, at least.”
I shook my head. “I’ll feel better if you just go ahead.”