I’m not a light sleeper, but I feel the loss of warmth when she slips out of my arms the next morning.

She’s cat-like and quiet as she slides out of bed. I don’t open my eyes. In the dark behind my lids I hear the lightest sounds—some rustling and short breaths as she makes her way around the room. I think she’s trying to be silent as she looks for the clothes that I very vividly remember pulling off her and tossing to the four walls.

After a moment, I open my eyes just enough to peel at her and I’m rewarded with a sweet little shot of her bent over. My cock twitches a little warning hello at the sight. The body on this woman . . . There’s only a little light coming through the draperies, and the room is still dark. I’m guessing it’s close to six.

When she straightens, I snap my eyes closed again, still pretending to sleep. The sounds move away from the bed.

OK. Any second I’m going to hear the snap of the bathroom door, and then, maybe, the shower. Or she’s just using the bathroom and then the door will open and she’ll crawl back into bed. Not the worst prospect. If morning wood is any indication, I could go for another round—maybe two—before I head out for the day. The awkward part is always the dismount. Do I let her stay in the room when I leave for the day? I’m not worried about her alone in my room, not really, but you never know about people . . .

My eyes snap open when I hear the door close. That wasn’t the bathroom door—it was the door to the room. I sit up in the bed and click a light on, making a quick survey of the suite. No clothes, her wrap isn’t draped over the chair anymore. No heels. She’s gone. She actually left.

Sleep, over. Not even groggy, I jump out of bed, naked, and look around the room some more. She must have left something here. That can’t just be it. I poke my head into the bathroom and look around there, too. Not even a tube of lipstick. It’s like she was never here.

That’s new. Not even a . . .

What, Clark, a kiss goodbye? You don’t even know her. The voice in my head is kind of harsh. But it’s right. I’ve had one night stands before. This isn’t my first rodeo. I should feel relieved there was no awkward scene or empty promise to call.

I glower at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out what the hell this is I’m feeling. A little heartburn, maybe? At six in the morning? I flick the water in the shower on, and then I squint and lean into the mirror when I catch a flash of red on my neck. Is this a hickey?

Flash of her eyes, her smile. The bloodthirsty little bite into my neck and shoulder the moment I first sank into her to the hilt.

Shit.

I grab a towel and hit the door.

* * *

In hindsight, I realize I’m lucky the resort elevators take forever, or I’d have missed her completely. As it is, Sara’s still standing at the elevator bank, looking at her cell phone screen while she waits for the next lift, when I skid around the hallway corner in nothing but my bare feet and a towel.

“Hey.” I’m out of breath, trying to hide it. The sprint from my room to this spot is short, but my heart is pounding. I was sure I was going to miss her.

Sara’s eyes open wide as saucers. I smile. She’s still beautiful, no makeup, first thing in the morning.

Just then an elevator door dings next to me. The doors open and, of course, there’s a family inside—mom, dad, two sleepy kids, and all their luggage, probably trying to hit the road early and check out.

They see me and all of us stop, frozen.

Mom hugs the kids tighter. Dad looks like he’s about to be angry, but then he spots Sara, looks back at me, and seems to read the situation. Tongue in cheek he asks, “Going down?”

“She’ll take the next one,” I say, and tug at Sara’s arm. She lets me, offers a little wave to the family as the doors close, and then Sara and I are alone again.

She just tilts her head at me, so I start. “You were really going to just leave?”

Sara looks down between us. “You’re naked under that towel, aren’t you.”

“Without even saying bye?”

“We’re in the hallway.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I thought you said that’s what happens.”

“When?”

“Last night. You said—”

“Do you always do what you’re told?”

She presses her lips together, but the smile is in her cheeks, her eyes when they meet mine. “You know I don’t.”

I kiss her then. Grab her and walk her back against the wall. She whoops with laughter against my mouth and grabs for the towel before it slides off my bare ass. I don’t care. And I don’t stop until she’s breathing as hard as me.

Pliant and soft in my arms, I brush her hair back from her face and move to her neck.

“Were you leaving because it wasn’t good?”

She pulls my mouth back up to hers. “You know it was good.” She tugs at my lips with her teeth, licks. Kisses me back.

I pass a hand over her ass and squeeze her closer, so she can feel my hard-on, and know exactly what she was about to walk away from, too.

“Two-night stands are better than one-night stands. FYI.”

“Mmm,” she hums and pulls back. “I wouldn’t know.” She bats her eyes, playful.

“Come back to the room.” My hands are wandering. She can’t stop me—probably because she’s still hanging onto the towel for me. It’s only when my fingers tease the very edge of her panties and get close to dipping under, that she pulls away. I hate it, but I like the way she seems to be struggling with temptation.

“I have work today. I have to go.”

“Have dinner with me.”

Sara pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Really?”

“I hauled ass, buck-naked down this hallway to catch you before you left. Yes, really. Have dinner with me. Tonight.”

She doesn’t say anything, just smiles and nods. The burn in my chest dissipates then, as if by magic. I can’t explain it completely, but it’s like I can face the day properly now.

I step back from her and take over holding the towel around my hips. It’s gratifying to see that she looks a little flustered now, like it really is hard to leave. Still, Sara pushes the down button.

“Meet me in the lobby? Or should I send my car to come get you?” I want to be sure we have a set plan.

She tilts her head. “You have a car to send for me?”

“Well, it’s the hotel’s service but sure, I can. Let me get your number though.”

She hesitates. Only a second, but I notice. She was checking her cell when I came around the corner, but she doesn’t offer to text her number.

“No, I got it. I’ll meet you here,” she says, finally. And then she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and she’s back to looking young and innocent. Granted, with signs all over her that she spent the night very well in bed with someone—the clothes from the previous evening, only the slightest remnants of her makeup. But I’d haul her back into my room right now if she let me. And then I remember what her friends said last night—they called her “the irresistible one.” I’m starting to guess why. I’m not the first guy who ended up wanting a second taste.

I try to reign it in. Hard to do in nothing but a towel in the hallway—I’ve already tipped my hand here—but a little stung pride isn’t going to stop me. I want to see her again.

“Meet at 7.”

“Ok.”

The elevators ding and this time the car is empty. She backs into it, her eyes appraising me. Nothing to do but ham it up, flex a few muscles. She giggles and then the doors close.

Two thoughts as I head back down the hallway: One, I hope she shows. I’m not used to this, wondering if a woman is really going to meet me. It’s going to be a long day if the suspense is already killing me.

Two, I’m naked in the hotel hallway. Without a room key.