Page 10 of The Healing Touch (Manwhore #3)

CHAPTER SIX

He was out of his fucking mind! Becca refused to move, even when he tried to push her into the room. How dare he? He’d promised her own bed. She turned on him, fury blazing, her finger stabbing him in the chest.

“What the hell, Dimitri? What happened to a queen room?”

“I tried to get one, I swear I did, but they didn’t have one. They said if one became available, they’d hold it for me, but the place is booked, Becca. There are no other rooms.”

“Then I’m finding another fucking hotel!”

She turned and stalked into the room, ignoring everything, and headed straight for the bathroom.

“There are no other fucking hotels,” he shouted through the door. “Stop acting like a two-year-old. It’s not like I’m going to fuck you.”

Her head dropped, hitting the door. What the hell was she going to do?

Dimitri stared at the closed door, aggravated with both Becca and himself.

He knew she was going to go ballistic when she found out he’d lied, but he really had tried.

It wasn’t his fault this place was booked, as well as every other fucking hotel within five miles.

It was the book signing as well as some other convention in town.

At least that was what the front desk told him when he called earlier.

The knock at the door brought him up short.

He’d been about to barge in on her and demand…

what, he didn’t know, but he was glad of the diversion.

He might have kissed her. It had been on his mind since he’d felt her shudder earlier and had been even harder to ignore when she’d slid down his body.

God, he needed to find something to take his mind off his dick.

The mountain of boxes that greeted him shocked him out of his sexual frustration.

How much shit did she order? He moved back so they could enter.

Two luggage carts full of boxes, followed by another with the small suitcases they’d both packed.

He tipped the staff then stood marveling at the massive amount of work ahead of him.

She was right about one thing; he wouldn’t be sightseeing tomorrow. No, he’d be soaking his hand in an ice bath. She expected him to sign all this tonight?

“Becca!”

When she didn’t answer, he stomped over to the door and pounded on it. “Becca, get your ass out here. You ordered all this shit, and you’re damn well going to help me instead of hiding in the bathroom.”

“I am not hiding!”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you are, but we can talk about that later. Right now, we need to sort this shit.” They would definitely be discussing what happened out in the parking lot later.

Or maybe they shouldn’t. He kept yo-yoing with the idea that Becca was attracted to him.

He knew better than to let his thoughts wander there, but his dick kept taking them right back to the danger zone.

As much as he valued Becca’s friendship, he’d never been good at resisting temptation.

The door cracked open, and her big brown eyes snapped fire at him. He couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking his face, which only pissed her off further.

“No. I’m not helping you. I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to bed. You can just fuck off, Dimitri Kincaid.” She stalked over to the luggage cart, grabbed her suitcase, and stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face.

Well, hell. Now what the fuck was he supposed to do?

The shower turned on, and he sank down on the bed.

He should probably apologize. He hadn’t meant to make her think he was laughing at her hiding in the bathroom.

He’d been smiling at her behavior, yes, but only about how it made him feel.

She always managed to drive away the darkness eating at him.

Her smile lifted him in ways nothing else did.

She’d wiped out his earlier frustration with that smile, and now she was in there thinking he was making fun of her.

Dammit.

For a romance writer, he was pretty much screwing this up.

Not that he wanted to romance her.

She was his best friend. It was taboo.

He only wished his dick would come to that conclusion.

Listening to the water run, it brought back his earlier fantasy of her in the shower, and he groaned, his dick laughing at him.

The fucker needed to shut up, but thoughts of her all wet and naked egged the little bastard on.

If he slipped his hand in to give himself some relief, chances were she’d walk out and catch him in the act.

Try explaining that one to her. She’d risk the airport to go home.

He was fucked.

Giving up, he stood, his legs protesting, and went back into the small room. They’d also delivered a complimentary bottle of champagne, a custom with every guest. Nice touch. He grabbed the bottle and two glasses before opening the terrace doors. She’d come out when she was ready and not before.

He sat in the first chair he came to and looked out over the city, all lit up.

It was beautiful. He could smell the saltiness of the ocean.

Maybe he could convince her to take a walk on the beach later, when no one would be out.

Becca always wanted to see the ocean, and he wanted to be the one to show it to her.

Popping the cork, he poured himself a glass of champagne. It wasn’t too bad. Not as good as what he usually drank, but still, it was decent. Maybe the alcohol would loosen her up enough that her anxiety wouldn’t stop her from seeing the South Carolina coastline.

When she finally showed up, he pretended not to notice her staring at him from the doorway. Best to let her come to him. He’d pushed her enough for one day. He could wait her out.

Becca frowned. She’d expected to see him digging through boxes, but here he sat sipping wine or something. Not a care in the world. Didn’t he understand how much there was to do? Or was he just going to ignore it and hope she’d do it for him?

The asshole was SOL because she wasn’t going to do it for him. She might relent and help him, but not if he wasn’t going to even try. He’d always taken her for granted. Always expected her to bail him out of situations. Well, not this time.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Looking at the city.” His voice came out soft, almost somber. It made her frown. What was he up to? “Take a seat, Becca. Have some champagne and enjoy the view.”

“Are you okay?” She dropped down into the seat on his left.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“About what?”

He shook his head, finally turning his attention to her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you earlier. I was smiling because you made me happy. That’s all.”

“I made you happy yelling at you?” Now she knew he’d really lost his marbles.

“You always do, Becca. It’s why I call you sometimes late at night. You’re the only person I know who can pull me out of my depression. I never thanked you for that.”

“What are you talking about, D?”

“After we figured out my legs weren’t going to heal on their own, I got mad. I got sad and finally just downright depressed. Some nights, I went down some pretty scary roads. That’s when I’d call and ask you to talk to me. Your voice always pulled me out of my funk.”

She’d had no idea. She thought he’d just been ignoring time zones. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Say what, exactly? ‘Sorry to disturb your sleep, but if you don’t talk to me right now, I might go eat a bottle of pills?’ No, I wasn’t going to put that on you.”

She stood and moved until she was standing behind him before wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his hair. “You should have told me, Dimitri. I would have come to LA and helped you.”

He laughed, and it shook her arms. “You haven’t left your apartment in two years, Krasivaya . You might have wanted to, but I doubt you would have.”

She thought about that before answering him. There were only two people in this world important enough to her to make her get on a plane and risk a panic attack—Jackson and Dimitri.

“You’re wrong, Dimitri. If you really needed me, I would have forced myself out of my safe haven and come to help you. Do you know why?”

“Why?” He swiveled his head, and she stared down into those beautiful blue eyes.

“Because no matter where you are or what you’re doing, if I called you and said I needed you, you’d be on the next flight out. It’s what best friends do.” She kissed his forehead. “You’re as much my family as Jackson is, and I would have come running.”

He twisted in his chair and pulled her onto his lap, hugging her so tightly, she couldn’t breathe. “I love you, Becca.”

“I love you too.” She pinched him so he loosened his hold.

“Ouch. What was that for?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“So, you didn’t consider my needing you to come to this book signing something vital, eh?”

“No.” She snuggled into him, loving having him wrapped around her. These memories would last her a lifetime. “I thought you were just being pissy. If you had told me about your legs, I would have tried my best.”

“But you might not have made it out that door?”

“No, I would have.” Dimitri shifted her on his lap and reached over to pour out more champagne.

“It’s not the same thing as swallowing a bottle of pills.

I’d have gotten on a plane and dealt with the panic attacks until I reached your house for that.

Don’t ever not call, Dimitri. If I lost you, it would be like losing a part of myself. Don’t you dare put me through that.”

“You’d have to get in line behind Mama and Babushka .”

“Your grandmother is quite the character.” Becca smiled thinking about the little woman who terrified all her grandsons.

She’d met her back when she’d visited Virginia during Dimitri’s senior year in high school.

She and his uncle came to pick him up from school, not knowing he was in detention.

Laughter spilled out when she remembered the look of horror on Dimitri’s face when he’d seen her and had to explain why he was in detention.