Page 9 of The Healing Touch (Manwhore #3)

They continued to talk about the event, his books, his fans, anything book related for the next several hours.

They switched places halfway through Virginia.

His legs were killing him, and Becca offered to drive.

He’d been hesitant at first, but she’d laughed her ass off, telling him her dad had her driving when she was ten.

Another thing he didn’t know about her was that she was mechanically inclined.

Cars, trucks, bikes…she could work on them all.

Part of growing up with a motorcycle club, he guessed.

He had no fucking clue how to work on a car.

They went to the garage when they broke, and he picked them up when they were good to go.

The sky eventually bled from a brilliant blue to inky black.

He blinked, not realizing he’d fallen asleep to the soulful tones of fucking country music.

He turned his head and studied Becca as she drove, her thoughts a million miles away.

She seemed peaceful as she hummed along to the radio.

Carefree, nothing like the woman who’d piled into the Jeep early this morning.

This was the girl he knew from their phone conversations, the girl who laughed at anything and always had him bristling from her teasing.

She gave as good as she got from him. He riled her, and she did the same to him.

Fucking her would be so easy. Coming back from that?

Knowing he would do it without any intentions of anything but a summer booty call?

He’d rip her heart apart, and he’d lose his best friend.

Watching her now, he knew he couldn’t let himself be that selfish.

Her friendship meant everything to him. He had to resist the temptation that was Rebecca Joyce Rhodes.

“Where are we?”

Becca jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced over at him before turning back to the road. “Just outside of Charleston. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you were exhausted.” He’d been yawning for a good two hours before he passed out.

She didn’t mind the quiet either. Spending so much time by oneself tended to make you appreciate the gentle solitude of silence.

“Once we get checked in, I’ll take a shower then come by your room and help you get everything ready. ”

“About that…”

Becca’s eyes narrowed at the hesitant sheepishness in his words. “About what?”

“Well, we’re sharing a room. I called before we left the dealership to let the hotel know we wouldn’t be arriving until after two a.m. and checked on a room for you. There weren’t any more available, and I had a queen, so I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

Not a big deal? He was out of his damn mind.

“Dimitri, I cannot share your hotel room with you.” Nope, nope, nope .

“Why not? It’s not like I’m asking you to share a bed. You’ll have your own.”

The GPS interrupted her by announcing they’d arrived at their destination—The French Quarter Inn.

She stared as she turned into the hotel drive.

It was old, historic, and absolutely beautiful, even in the shadows of the night.

She couldn’t wait to see what it looked like early in the morning.

If she managed to get up at dawn, she should be able to get out and about before too many people rolled out of bed.

That was if she managed to force her feet through the doorway.

It had taken Dimitri ten minutes to talk her into getting out of the car at the dealership.

When she put the Jeep into park, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She could see the valet hurrying over, which meant she’d need to vacate her haven. He wouldn’t give her ten minutes to gather her courage.

Dimitri’s fingers slipped between hers, and she took several deep breaths. “Take as long as you need, sweetheart. He’ll wait.”

A smile tugged at her lips. He knew her too well. Even after only learning about her panic attacks this morning, he was already helping more than he could possibly know.

She did make him wait for five minutes while she sat there clutching Dimitri’s hand and trying to give herself the pep talk of the century. “Get out and move him away from my door, please. I don’t want to be rude.”

“You have to let go of my hand first.” His laughter rolled over her, and she shuddered.

He had to have felt it because his laughter died, but she refused to open her eyes.

If he realized how much he affected her, she knew all bets would be off.

Dimitri would try something. It was in his nature.

It wouldn’t mean anything to him, but it would to her.

She wasn’t about to let her heart get annihilated.

Gathering her courage, she let his fingers slip from hers.

He sat there a full minute before she heard the door open and close. Another minute went by, and then her door opened. “You’re all good, sweetheart. Just turn off the car and give me your hand.”

Always so simple. Just give me your hand.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

Not only was she outside her apartment, but she was in a city she didn’t know.

A big city where thousands of people roamed.

This was a mistake. She knew it like she knew she had to drink at least three cups of coffee to function upon waking.

Dimitri leaned into the car, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. “It’s okay, Becca. There are no crowds, just you, me, and Mike here.”

“But what about inside?” She hated the whispered fear she couldn’t choke down. Hated it more than anything.

“The lobby looks pretty empty, honey. It’s almost three in the morning.”

Becca let her eyelids flutter open, and she glanced inside the glass doors. It did look empty. All she had to do was get out of the car, make it inside long enough for Dimitri to check them in, and then an elevator ride up. The safety of a closed door was within reach.

“Take my hand, baby. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

His outstretched palm waited, and she laid her hand in it. He squeezed.

“Good girl.” He didn’t give her time to do anything. He unsnapped her seatbelt and pulled her out. She landed against his chest with a thump. He caught her and let her slide slowly down his body. All the air left her lungs, and she gazed up at him. His blue eyes were dark, intense, moody.

“Mike, can you bring our things inside, please?” His eyes never left hers.

“Of course, Mr. Kincaid.”

When Becca was finally able to break the intense stare, she looked over at Mike. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Kincaid.”

“No, not Mrs. Kincaid.” She laughed but couldn’t hide the way it had made her feel when he’d called her that. “I’m just here to keep this one out of trouble.”

That made the valet chuckle. “Good luck with that.”

Truer words had never been spoken.

“Let’s get checked in.” Dimitri’s voice had lost all its teasing, and she peeked at him from under her lashes. He looked angry. Did he get pissed when the valet assumed she was his wife? Well, too damn bad. He’d get over it. God forbid anyone should assume the manwhore settled down.

At least her ire let her breathe through the panic pushing at her. She’d been surprised how easy it had been to talk to Mike, but then she’d been wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms. He made her panic fall away.

Instead of letting her go, he pulled her into his side, his arm around her, his hand gripping her hip tightly. Tight enough there might be a bruise in the morning, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed his touch.

The hotel was as gorgeous inside as it was outside. She leaned against Dimitri and absorbed the room made to look more like a parlor than a hotel lobby. She loved the simple charm of the space.

The circular staircase called to her, but that was out of the question. Dimitri would never make it up the stairs, and she wouldn’t ask him to try. Man, it would be fun to go up it, though. She’d loved them ever since she watched Casper with Christina Ricci when she was a little girl.

She paid no attention to Dimitri as he talked to the front desk attendant.

The girl was fluttering her eyelashes like mad, and Becca tried not to smirk.

If she only knew Dimitri would eat her up and spit her out in the morning, she might not look like a blinking fool.

How many women had gone into a relationship with him thinking they’d be the one to change him? To make him want to keep them?

Women were blind when it came to Dimitri Kincaid.

Sometimes even she was. Just look where she was presently standing, despite her fear.

He tugged at her, and she looked up. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Did you ask them to send all the boxes up to the room?”

He nodded, and they started walking toward the elevator. “We’re on the top floor with a balcony we can sit on and look out over the city. I thought you’d like that, since there’s probably no way I’m getting you out sightseeing.”

She burst out laughing at his disappointed tone. “You’ll be dead to the world tomorrow. Don’t go pouting about sightseeing when I know you’ll sleep the day away.”

“My nap refreshed me.” The elevator opened, and he pulled her in. “You still good?”

“Yes.” She let herself lean against him, breathing him in.

“Good. Maybe you won’t be pissed at me when we get to the room.”

Becca tilted her head to look up. “Why would I be pissed about the room?”

The elevator dinged open, and he pulled her out, refusing to answer. Their room was at the very end of the hall, and when he opened the door, she saw exactly why he thought she’d be pissed.

It was a suite. She’d booked him a king suite, but when he said he’d gotten a double, she assumed he’d downgraded. What he knew she’d be mad about was the fact that one big bed stood beyond the front room.

A single king bed.