Abandon

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Senia

Recovering from the wedding – and hangover – of the century would be a lot easier if Tristan had his amazing steam room to sweat out the two bottles of vodka he drank last night. Ugh! Just the thought of it makes me sick. I’m glad I’m pregnant and I don’t have to deal with hangovers for at least another eight months.

“So I take it we’re not going to breakfast with everyone before they leave for their honeymoons?”

He grunts and, for a moment, I think this is his response. Then, “You can go. I can’t eat anything right now.”

I prop my head up on my elbow as I trace shapes on his bare back with my fingertip. “Were you drunk while Chris and Claire were singing last night?”

“I don’t remember,” he mutters, then he shifts a little and the way the muscles in his back flex under his skin is so sexy. “Can you get me a bottle of water?”

“Yeah, and I’ll order you the room service hangover cure.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. Probably Gatorade and a butler to hold your puke bucket.”

I continue lightly stroking his back and he turns gingerly onto his side to face me. “I don’t need any of that shit. I just need you and some water.”

I slide out of bed and grab a couple of bottles of water out of the mini-bar. I set one down on the nightstand then I open the other and hand it to him. He guzzles half the bottle in one shot then he twists the cap back on and beckons me back into bed.

“I promised your dad I’d keep my dick in my pants while we’re in Vegas.”

“WHAT?”

“He made me promise. But don’t worry. I canceled tomorrow’s flight. We’re leaving tonight instead. We’re not staying another night in this hotel room. Besides, I think the point is moot now that he knows you’re pregnant.”

“What time is our flight?” He grins as he takes the bottle of water and lightly presses it against my bare belly. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth. “That’s cold!”

“I know, unlike you,” he says, tossing the bottle onto the floor as he lifts my camisole and leans in to take my nipple into his mouth.

All I can think of, as he uses his fingers to stimulate me, is those two minuscule sentences he uttered last night, which obviously meant nothing to him. Yours will be better. I promise.

I push him away and he looks confused. “I have to take a shower,” I say, sliding off the bed again.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. I want to shower alone.”

He sits up in the bed looking even more stupefied. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I’m just … I …” I roll my eyes at my inability to form a complete sentence. “I think we should talk about what’s going to happen when you go on tour.”

He reaches for the other bottle of water on the nightstand and shrugs. “What’s to talk about? I’m not going on tour. I’m staying here.”

“When did you decide this?”

“Last night.”

He stares at the gauze taped to his wrist for a moment, almost as if he can’t remember getting the tattoo, then he rips it off. He gazes at his wrist for a moment then lets out a deep sigh before he chugs some more water.

“When were you going to tell me?” I ask as I approach the bed. I want to see that tattoo.

He watches me as I approach with one eyebrow cocked mischievously; he knows I want to see his new ink. He holds his wrist out for me to see and now I’m confused.

“I was going to tell you today, I guess.”

“What does one-two-three mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. You’re not ready.”

I turn to head back toward the bathroom. “You need to tell me what time our flight is, so I can be ready.”

“I have a plane on standby until seven p.m. I was thinking we could join the mile-high club tonight.”

I stop at the bathroom door and look over my shoulder. The sly grin he’s wearing is hot enough to burn a hole in those thousand-dollar sheets. Who cares about what he may or may not have said at the reception last night? The sexiest, sweetest, most complicated guy I’ve ever known just gave my best friend a house for her wedding gift and asked me to join the mile-high club. I’m thinking he kind of has the hots for me.

I beckon him with my finger and he chuckles as he slowly slides off the bed. But we never make it to the shower together, because the phone call Tristan receives at that moment changes everything.