Naz gets out, pausing beside me. He looks less than impressed, like this is just another place on the map, a stop along the road of life, but to me it's life altering. Someone carries our bags as we're ushered straight through a remote entrance, Naz's hand pressed to my back again, leading me, but not letting me fall behind. The private lobby we're taken to is elegant, secluded away from the main entrance, the sort of place I expect Naz to stay—cool on the surface, relaxed, while a world of turmoil exists just a few steps away.
It moves like the speed of light around me. We're led away from the lobby, to the elevators, where the man carrying our luggage presses the button for the very top floor.
The penthouses.
A man—a butler, it turns out—accompanies us upstairs and opens the door to our suite. As soon as I go inside, my eyes widen. The vast space in front of me is unlike anything I've ever seen before. I look around in shock as Naz converses with the man by the door.
The suite rivals even Naz's house in style. There's a dining room, a little kitchen, a living room, and even a space with a pool table. The black and white checkered floor stands out against the dim brown and yellowish tones of everything else as I trudge along, footsteps faltering when I come upon the wall of glass. I peer out, stunned to see there's a pool up here.
The butler departs when Naz refuses a guided tour, leaving us alone. I turn to Naz, leaning back against the cool glass and peering at him as he strolls forward, taking off his coat. "Like it?"
"Like it? It's amazing."
"It's nice," he agrees, hanging his coat on the back of a chair. "The upstairs is even nicer."
I gape at him. "Upstairs?"
"Of course," he says, motioning toward a set of stairs off the side. "Where do you think the bedroom is?"
I don't wait for him to say anything else, flying right by him and up the two sets of stairs. I pause when I reach the top, gasping so loud Naz hears me downstairs, based on the sound of his laughter.
"Told you," he calls out.
The upstairs is elegant, with two bedrooms and the largest bathroom I've ever seen. I could drown in the massive tub, the shower an immense glass box that's damn near as big as the dorm room back at NYU. I step inside of it, spinning in circles, completely baffled. I can see the lights of the city through the windows from the shower, can see down to the landing leading to the first floor.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Naz is in the master bedroom, shifting through his things. I pause in the doorway, shaking my head. "Who else is staying here?"
"Nobody," he says. "Just us."
"There are three freaking beds. Why do we need three beds?"
"We don't," he says, cutting his eyes at me. "We might try them all out before the weekend's through, though."
I smile. I like that plan.
He's pulling clothes out and hanging them up in the closet, putting things where they go like he's moving in. I leave everything in my bags, not even sure what I packed, but I'm certain it's not worthy of hanging in a closet of that caliber. He glances at me as I pick up a little binder from the bedside stand and flip through it. Room service.
"Are you hungry?" he asks.
"Uh, yeah, a little." I can't remember the last time I ate. "Can we order something?"
"We can," he says, "but how about we go out somewhere instead?"
"Where?"
"Wherever you want to go." He finishes what he's doing as his phone starts ringing. He pulls it out, barely glancing at the screen before answering stoically, the conversation short and full of nothing more than 'yes' and 'no's. Hanging up, he slips it back away and turns to me. "I need to run an errand… won't take more than a few minutes. Why don't you shower and change, and we'll hit the city?"
"Okay," I say, glancing around the room, my eyes falling on the garment bag. "Should I wear the dress?"
"No, save that for tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?"
My question prompts him to smile as he steps toward me, cupping my cheek, brushing his thumb across my lips. "Why don't we focus on tonight before you start worrying about tomorrow? We waste too much time looking for the next thing and not appreciating what we have right now… and right now, what we have, is endless opportunities. The sky isn't the limit in my world, Karissa. There is no limit. You want it? You got it. Whatever it is."
"Anything?"
"Anything," he swears. "Just name it."
"A bacon cheeseburger."
He laughs. "A bacon cheeseburger?"
"Yes."
"Okay then." Leaning forward, he kisses me before turning away. "Shower, and we'll hit the town for bacon cheeseburgers."
Naz leaves, and I scour through my bag, cringing. Had I known we were going to Vegas, I would've borrowed some of Melody's clothes. I end up settling for black pants and a pink top, nothing unusual for me, but at least it isn't jeans.
I head into the bathroom and strip out of my clothes, turning the shower on warm. I step into the glass box, letting out a deep sigh of contentment. Water blasts me from all angles, the pulsing spray feeling like a massage.
I lather up from head-to-toe with the sweetest smelling soap. Closing my eyes, I stand there, letting the water cascade around me as it rinses away the bubbles, steam building up and fogging the glass. After a minute I reopen my eyes and glance around, freezing when I catch sight of something down on the landing.
Naz is standing there, staring up at me.
A shiver ripples down my spine. I can feel his gaze. I probably should be unnerved by the fact that he's watching me, but I feel a tinge of excitement. Maybe I do like the idea of being caught.
Hesitating, contemplating, I step closer to the glass wall and peer down at him as I run my hands up my stomach and to my chest, palming my breasts. A smile slowly spreads across Naz's face as he shakes his head and walks away.
I turn back to the water and finish my shower, stepping out when I'm squeaky clean. I get ready, putting on my clothes and adding a dash of makeup, doing my best to fix my hair, when I hear movement on the floor below again. Naz returns, stepping into the bathroom as I apply lip-gloss in the mirror. He strolls over, pausing behind me, his hand on my hip as he leans down and kisses my neck. "You're a vixen."
"And you're a voyeur."
He laughs. "Guilty."
He's already ready, of course, not needing to change, looking and smelling just as fresh as he had when he picked me up from the dorms. I don't know how the man does it, always looking as put together as a work of art. I slip on my shoes and take his hand as he leads me from the suite.