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His rhythm falters. He thrusts deep once more, then holds me against him as he comes with a low groan. His body stays tense behind mine until the last tremor passes.
When his grip loosens, Eric slides out and takes care of the condom. He returns to the bed, eases me onto my back, and lies beside me. Then he gathers me against his chest.
Neither of us speaks. I rest my cheek over his heart while his hand moves slowly along my back. His skin is still warm and damp, and every few breaths, his fingers trail through the ends of my hair. The hard beat beneath my ear begins to slow, and my own breathing settles with it.
After a while, I lift my head. Eric is already watching me, his expression softer than I’m used to seeing.
“What?” I ask.
“I want to be exclusive.”
I stare at him. “Is that what you’ve been trying to say all night?”
“All week.”
For once, my mind doesn’t rush in with reasons to be careful. I just say what I feel. “I’d like that.”
Eric searches my face as if he needs to be sure. When I don’t look away, he exhales and pulls me closer. The last of the tension leaves him as he kisses me.
When he draws back, he’s smiling. “So we’re official.”
“Exclusive. Not official.”
His smile fades. “What’s the difference?”
“Exclusive means we don’t see other people. Official means we tell everyone about us.”
“Why wouldn’t we tell people?”
Grandma comes to mind at once. She calls Eric a parasite and sees his hotel as a threat to everything Granddad built. I don’t want to tell him that she’s part of the reason, especially tonight.
“I’m publicly fighting your hotel. If people find out about us now, they’ll question everything I’ve said and wonder whether you’re influencing me. It could hurt the Hartwell. We can go public after the vote.”
If Rhonda is right, there won’t be a Voss hotel next door by then. Grandma will have no reason to oppose Eric, and I’ll have time to warm her to the idea of us before she finds out. I keep that part to myself.
Eric’s jaw tightens, but he considers it. “After the vote?”
“Yes.”
He gives a slow nod. “Okay. After the vote.”
His agreement should reassure me, but another worry takes its place. Eric still believes the council will approve his hotel. It’s easy for him to promise this won’t come between us when he expects to keep both me and the project.
He hasn’t had to look at me after losing something that means so much to him—something he chose, fought for, and put his reputation behind. When the city rejects the hotel, will he still see me the same way? Or will he see one of the people who helped take it from him?
I place my hand against his chest. “Whatever happens with the hotel, it won’t change us…right?”
“No.” His hand covers mine. “It won’t.”
A few weeks ago, stopping the project was all I wanted. Now, when I picture the city saying no, I also see Eric looking at me and knowing I helped make it happen.
33
RACHEL
Monday begins with the key-card system going offline, a temperature alarm sounding in the main kitchen freezer, and a guest due at the airport unable to open the safe holding his passport. By ten, the cards are working again, the faulty freezer sensor has been replaced, and the guest is on his way to the airport.
By ten fifteen, I finally sit down in my office and reach for my coffee. Before I can take a sip, a chant starts outside.
