“That is Ponte di Rialto. It was constructed in the late sixteenth century, about the same time as the hotel we’re going to stay at,” I explain.
When we pull up to the Aman, a historic hotel that is situated on the Grand Canal, Dakota turns to me wide-eyed. “This isn’t our hotel, is it?”
“Of course it is. Come on,” I tell her as I step up onto the dock and offer her my hand. She grabs ahold and climbs out of the boat.
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide us to the reception desk to check in.
“Buonasera,” I say to the receptionist.
While I’m checking in, I notice Dakota taking in the impressive lobby. I can’t wait to show her some of the hidden gems this place has to offer. This is undoubtedly the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in, and I’m willing to bet she would say the same.
Once I’ve got our key, I guide her up the grand marble staircase to our room overlooking the Grand Canal. Entering through intricate wood-carved doors, we walk through the large entryway where the concierge has placed our luggage. There is a sitting room off to the left, with the bedroom to the right.
“I, uh, got a one bedroom. But they can set up the sitting room to be a second bedroom if you’d prefer not to share. I had originally booked it with that in mind, but after our stay in Milan . . . well, I’ll just come out and say it. I loved sleeping with you in my arms, Austen.”
A shy smile spreads across Dakota’s face. “I don’t want separate bedrooms either,” she says as she walks into the room and takes it in. With my hands in my pockets, I lean against the doorframe and watch as she checks out the marble fireplace before turning and dragging her fingers across the plush comforter on the bed. “This place is majestic.”
“When I saw the photos online, I thought maybe this place would inspire you. I requested they put a writing desk in the sitting room in case you had the urge to write,” I admit.
She doesn’t reply at first, instead she just stares at me with an unreadable expression. The moment I see her eyes begin to swell with tears, I push off the doorframe and take her in my arms. My heart pounds in my chest when I don’t immediately feel her wrap her arms around me.
“Hey, what’s the matter? I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
Dakota shakes her head, wrapping her arms around my waist as she pulls back to look up into my eyes. “No, nothing is wrong. I-I’m just so thankful. You didn’t have to do any of this—suggest I come, take extra time away from training to be here with me, plan the entire trip down to the smallest detail like requesting there be a writing desk in our room,” she pauses to sniffle through the tears threatening to spill. “I can’t believe you’re real. And you’re choosing to be here with me.”
Rubbing my hands up and down her back, I reply, “Well, believe it, Dream Girl. Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be and no one else I’d rather have by my side.”
Lifting up on her tiptoes, she places a soft kiss along the edge of my jaw, dragging her lips before placing another on my chin. With her lips still on my skin, she whispers, “I should freshen up, and then do you want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Yeah, I was thinking we could order room service for tonight, if that’s okay with you?”
“That sounds perfect,” she replies.
“Okay, I’ll start unpacking while you’re in there, and then I’ll hop in the shower when you’re finished,” I tell her. Knowing she’ll be in there naked and wet with soap running down her body is giving my cock unwarranted hope.
“I’ll be quick,” she says as she grabs a few items from her suitcase and heads into the ensuite.
I’ve just finished hanging up my suit when Dakota calls out, “Hey, Carson, could you help me for a second?”
“Yeah, what’s u—” I cut off as I take in the sight before me.
Dakota is sitting in the large soaking tub in the middle of the bathroom. Sure, bubbles cover her body, but I know she’s naked beneath them.
Clearing my throat, I try to play it cool. “What can I do for you?”
I take in her flushed cheeks, her hazy eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest as it bobs up from the water before sinking back under.
“I can’t reach my back,” she states. “Could you wash it for me?”
Wash it for her? Fuck me.
I take a calming breath and reply, “Yeah, I can do that.”
She grabs a sponge from the tray beside the tub and hands it to me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I croak.
Get your shit together, man.
