20. Hugo

Roark and I talked until we both went hoarse. It was funny, really. I’d been silent for so long that I hadn’t known what it felt like for someone to really listen. I mean, the guys in the chess club listened to me. My teachers listened. My guidance counselor listened. But…it wasn’t the same.

They weren’t special and pink and squishy.

They hadn’t looked at me like I meant something.

“Are you hungry?” Roark asked, his voice quiet and sweet as he cradled me against his chest while we finally rode up the elevator, long after the party had ended. My stomach growled, and he huffed in amusement. “I’ll order room service.”

It was later than late and I was honestly surprised he was still awake considering how busy he’d been this week—and the fact he’d been the one doing all the legwork for our date, literally.

How was he still standing?

“Thank you,” I nuzzled under Roark’s chin. He did that purring thing I loved as the elevator dinged open and he walked us down the hall to our room. Once inside, the blast of cool air soothed my flushed skin as Roark locked the door and led me to the bed.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing,” he said, his voice all nervous again.

“We always share,” I chuckled as he laid me down on the mattress, then adjusted the strap on my dress where it had fallen again. His gaze snapped to my thigh, and the lace stocking that adorned it—visible through the slit in my skirt.

His eyes flickered black for a moment.

“We do,” he agreed, blinking back to blue. “And you…like that?”

“I love it,” I reached out, catching his hand with mine, my heart pounding as the night and all its intimacy burst inside me all at once. I love you , I wanted to say but didn’t. “It’s my favorite part of the day.”

Surprising me, the usually stoic Roark made a joke. “Don’t lie. You prefer your time in Ushuu’s lab.”

“Not true,” I laughed incredulously. “Though that is a close second.”

“A very close second,” Roark huffed, still playful.

I licked my lips, spreading my legs a little so he could get a better peep of what was between them, encased in sparkly white fabric. “Thank you for that by the way. He’s already taught me more than I could’ve ever dreamed of learning.”

“He is a smart man.” Roark said with pride.

“He is,” I agreed, gaze tracing over his body. “Why are we talking about your almost-dad again?”

Roark snorted in amusement, flexing his chest at me, his eyes flashing with heat when he saw how affected I was. “Rest,” Roark commanded grouchily. He stroked my cheek, and despite his playful grumpiness his spots were white—betraying his true emotions.

Happy.

Happy, happy, happy.

I did as I was told, grateful that Roark seemed to enjoy looking after me as much as I enjoyed him doing it. He crossed the room with a few confident strides and pushed a button on the wall. What looked like a menu popped out. The colorful hologram wavered as I watched in fascination while Roark put practically every item listed into his cart, before hitting a button to pay.

“That was a lot of food,” I commented from the bed, trying to sound coy and failing. Space food! Shit-tons of space food!

“While we’re here I figured you would want to try the planet’s cuisine.” Roark spots were fuchsia—embarrassed now—and I melted.

He paid attention.

It had only been a few hours since I’d told him how much I wanted to learn and experience new things now that I was in space—and he’d…wow.

He may be a man who “struggled with words” but as always his actions spoke fluently enough.

When the food arrived, Roark had the hotel attendants lay it out for us on a dining table that took up the back corner of the hotel room. Honestly? I hadn’t even noticed the table was there—and who could blame me? My focus had been primarily on A. Marshmallow bed or B. My new mate in a tux. The dining table was the least interesting thing I’d seen all night.

At least it had been until they’d covered it in food.

I gravitated toward it immediately like a moth to flame, and Roark expertly side-stepped between me and the foreign aliens, protective stance activated till they departed the way they’d come. He pulled my seat out for me with a jerky tug that betrayed his nerves.

“Earthlings do this?” Roark waited, stiff as a board. “For dates. The pulling of chairs is customary.”

“They do,” I replied, heart wobbling with affection. “Thank you.”

He was so damn charming I didn’t know what to do with him.

Once seated, Roark dished me up a plate full of alien delicacies. There were pastries and fruits, pies and sandwiches. Nothing looked exactly like it did on Earth, but it was close enough for me to feel comfortable dipping my toes in so to speak.

Roark refused to touch his own meal until I’d started eating, maybe to be polite? Or maybe because he couldn’t stop studying my reactions. He watched me like I was his favorite movie and that…wow. That was just…

Wow .

Despite the fact we were safely inside our room and the night was dwindling to an end, Roark didn’t take his tuxedo off. He did, however, undo an obscene amount of buttons. The peek of his lovely pink skin was enough to make my dick perk up and my cheeks flush all over again.

He was so tall.

Even while we were seated, he towered over me, sitting ramrod straight, his blue eyes flickering with warmth. Not once did he stop observing me, his eyes narrowing with amusement every time I moaned and slapped the table. It was impossible not to! Especially after I tried a particularly delicious bite of something I could only describe as a spiky-green-fruit-sushi.

When I was full, I felt my flush travel lower as Roark’s eyes flickered from amused, to affectionate, to hungry black.

I licked my lips, and he groaned.

I was half-tempted to crawl across the table and sit in his lap—but…

I refrained.

Because I had a surprise for him.

A lacy, pink surprise.

And I was confident now—in a way I’d never been before.

“Do you mind if I go wash up? You know. Freshen up and stuff?” Oh no, that had not been smooth. “Because you know. Dancing. For hours. And food. And like?—”

“Go ahead, little one.”

Little one. I loved that damn nickname.

I shot to my feet so fast I made myself light-headed, gripping the lip of the table to catch my balance. I flashed him a grateful, nervous smile. Then I bolted across the room, skirt hiked high so I wouldn’t trip, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Roark’s middle name really should’ve been Effort.

And I’d vowed to myself that I’d do something to show him my appreciation. Not because it felt transactional—like my parents’ affection—but because it didn’t. Roark didn’t expect anything in return for his kindness.

When I caught my reflection, I barely recognized it. Not because of the dress—I’d come to terms with that earlier. And not because I felt pretty, which I still did, despite being flushed and sweaty, my hair an absolute mess.

No.

I didn’t recognize myself because I looked happy . The kinda happiness you see in commercials for allergy medication or in Hallmark movies. The carefree kind. The kind that meant white spots, and crescent eyes, and barking laughter. The kind that costs nothing at all.

It didn’t take long to strip my dress off, do a quick sponge bath, and try to fix my hair. This would be so much better if I had makeup, I thought, even though I had no idea how the hell to use it. But still, I was sure a little makeup would help. Maybe some of that black stuff girls put on their lashes? Or like—lipstick. Lipstick would definitely look nice. Pink, like my mom’s.

Hair done, I stepped back to inspect my new duds.

The lingerie I’d selected for tonight fit like a glove. It clung to my hips and thighs, highlighting the curves and dips of my body in a way I hoped was enticing. I’d never worn anything like this before today and it was liberating. Somehow even more liberating than wearing the dress and garter had been.

I was committing to this—and god , did that feel good.

Like I finally found something that fit who I was.

Roark will like it.

I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did.

Roark liked anything that made me happy.

I patted myself down one last time, did a quick pit sniff to make sure I smelled good—fruity, hell yes—and then jumped when one of the flowers on the counter tried to snap at me. I’d hardly noticed them, I’d been so concerned with my attempts to look hot.

“Sorry, buddies.” They probably needed water. I filled the sink after pulling down its stopper—some things were apparently the same even if you were a galaxy away—grabbed the bouquet, and carefully laid the stems inside, all the while avoiding the snap, snap, snap of the flowers’ teeth.

With that finished, I was ready.

Nervous, but ready.

I was going to blow Roark’s mind.