VOLUME | ONC 2023

16. The Willard

Roosevelt...

"Are your eyes closed?" With zealous hands, I held her by the waist, scooting her into the suite's entryway.

We were both giddy, having successfully maneuvered our way past hotel staff and guests. She'd taken the elevator and I, the stairs, meeting at the door like two winded teenagers.

Thankfully, the hallway was ours alone. Although it wouldn't have deterred me from snatching her into the room, I knew Elizabeth Ann would be pressed.

That short stroll required more courage than she had let on, but she'd done it for me – to appease me. To let me have my moment in the sun with her.

The burden of race had ebbed, leaving a galvanizing low burn in its wake.

"Ro. Are you serious?" Lizzie's tone was full of coquettish levity and faux annoyance.

I was grinning as I used her momentary lack of sight as an excuse to press my front into her back, nudging her forward, "Very. Are they closed?"

She smacked her lips together, an errant brown hand in the air as she tried swatting at me, "You have a tie around my head, lest you forgot."

I lived for her sharp little quips. When I first began invading her space under the guise of exchanging professionalisms, I couldn't be sure if she loathed me or was merely afraid. And perhaps it had been some amalgamation of both, but it didn't take long for me to ascertain that she was all growl and no bite. Her easily misconstrued jabs were a protective mechanism against my advances. Not in her most daring dreams could she have fathomed falling for the pally white attorney at the law firm she'd been newly employed at.

I inhaled, dipping my head to the nape of her neck, "That doesn't mean your eyes are closed."

"Are you sniffing me?"

I squeezed her abdomen, earning a laughing shriek.

She writhed in my arms as her giggle echoed throughout the suite.

My lips were inches from her right ear, "We're walking now. You ready?"

She hummed through a close-lipped smile, trying to dampen her laughter, "Mhmm."

I kept ahold of her waist, sticking close to her as we walked in tandem through her sexily excited laughter.

I stood Lizzie next to the window with views of the National Mall. The Washington Monument's stone obelisk was an exclamation point in the sweeping stately landscape.

"Okay, my love. You ready?"

"Ro, a thousand times yes. Now, don't ask me again."

My face split in deep ebullience as I undid the knot at the back of her hair.

She slapped a hand to her gaping mouth, turning about in my arms, "Roosevelt Marshall! Oh, you – Goodness!"

She pointed an accusing finger at me, her nails painted in a deep rouge varnish, "You are such a romantic, Ro. This is... this is something."

I don't think I'd ever seen her so joyfully unbridled, "Do you love it, baby?"

She guffawed for a few more moments before swiping at a tear. Lizzie nodded, smiling at me as she gestured with flailing hands at the formal dining room beyond the living area.

"Welcome to the George Washington Presidential Suite, Bets. Come here," I took her by the hand, crossing the threshold into the bedroom where I had rose petals strewn across the crisp white duvet.

Lizzie gasped, "Rose-a-velt! You didn't. I ain't ever seen a bed this big in my whole life. No, sir."

I took note. Should we have no furniture in the home I hoped to share with her, we would have a King-sized bed.