He opened the door and stood up, wishing he had his cane. He couldn’t carry it, though. He knew that. No weakness. He was a macho, fucking brave son of a bitch.
“Paulson!” Someone shouted his name, one of the fans he knew. It only took a few seconds for a litany of shouting and questions to fill the air.
“Sky! Where you been? Are you here all week? Are you gonna ride?”
Beck did an expert job of herding him past everyone; he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to.
Okay.
Still hot.
He found himself grinning, tickled. Lord have mercy, he was fixin’ to bust out laughing.
Beck left him at the front desk and went back for their bags, handling things so he didn’t have to, and by the time they were in the elevator and the doors closed, it was like they’d walked indoors and out of a hurricane.
“Time to head up to our rooms. That rocked, babe. I swear to God, you’re amazing at that.” He grinned, feeling about right with the world. It didn’t take a whole lot.
“I forgot how much fun that is. I get to make people keep their paws off my husband, and then while they stand there all bummed out, I’m the one that gets into the elevator with you.” Beck crowded him against a wall. “I’m going to keep my promise and put that swagger in your step, Champ.”
“Are you now?” Fuck him, that was pretty. “You can try.”
Beck raised an eyebrow. “Mm. That doesn’t sound like the mopey cowboy I left the airport with.”
“Shut up, butthead. You were seducing me, get with the program.”
Beck stepped away with a devilish grin as the elevator door opened. “Hold that thought.”
There were benefits to this whole two-time world champion thing, weren’t there? This was one.
He was on top of the world, and he wasn’t even riding anymore.
Beck set a long-legged, breakneck pace heading for the room that he had no prayer of keeping up with, but it turned out okay. The heat in his husband’s eyes as he stood in the open doorway watching him walk down the hall toward their room could set the hotel on fire.
He didn’t worry about his gait, about his hitch. He focused on how Beck saw him. Right now.
When he got close, Beck licked those red lips and swallowed hard. “Come on in, cowboy.” Beck stayed in the doorway, so he had to shimmy by. He made sure to rub and squeeze on his way, push a little.
His husband laughed and followed him in, closing the door and making a show of locking it and stepping around the suitcases left in the entryway, staring him down. “We’re alone. Do your worst.”
“That’s a big—”
“No. Don’t you even.” Parker’s voice made him jump, jostling the fuck out of him.
Beck caught him and sighed, loudly enough that it could have rattled the building. “Parker.”
“Hey, Beck. Champ. Welcome to Vegas.”
“Why are you…are you in our room?” Had he lost his mind somewhere?
“No, no. This place is way too pricey for me. I just grabbed some swag and shit and lied a little and they let me in. I put beer in your fridge and there’s pizza coming.” Parker looked smug. “Not bad, huh?”
“Nope. Where are you staying?”What are you doing here? What the actual fuck?
Parker went to the fridge and started handing out beer. “I know a guy who knows a guy who needs someone to split a room. I’m good.”
“Pizza, and we’re on East Coast time and are going to bed early, Parker.” Beck took the beer and took a big swig, then looked at the bottle. “Oh. Good stuff, man.”
“You ready for tomorrow, man? There’s a huge meet and greet before the event. Are you going to any others?”