The hotel clerk’s hair is piled on top of her head in a tight bun. Her fingernails click rapidly on the keyboard, her intermittent smacking and googly eyes over my lack of shirt driving me insane.
“I have three rooms available. One is smoke-friendly, one king-sized bed, and the last has two doubles.”
“I’ll take the two d—” I pause, replaying Emily’s insistence on two beds. “The king. I’ll take the king.”
“You got it.” Her arm reaches across the desk to hand me the entry key. “And just so you’re aware, we have free continental breakfast, and checkout is at eleven.”
“Thanks.”
Back in the parking lot, I open Emily’s door and tell her to follow me. When we find room 119, we fumble into the blackness of it, until I find a light switch.
“Um, where’s the other bed?” She spins on her heel, annoyance on her face.
“It was either this or a smoking room.”
She huffs. “I really wanted my own bed.”
“Okay, what would you like to do? I guess we can leave and sit in traffic until God knows when. Or … we can get some sleep.”
A long sigh. “Fine, but I get the wall side. If someone breaks in in the middle of the night, they’ll kill you first.”
I laugh, but she doesn’t so much as crack a grin. What is her deal? She is being such a bitch. I have never seen this side of her. I rarely even saw this side of Eliza. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Could be that Jared guy. He did call her ‘babe’ on the phone.
But … no, she wouldn’t be here with me if she did. I hope not, anyway.
She stands between the window and her side of the bed. I can’t help but stare as she tugs my shirt from her body, and then … and then unbuttons her jeans, quickly working them down her hips and toned legs.
“See something you like?” she asks with raised brows. “I can’t sleep in these clothes. Hence the two beds.”
I turn away from her to face the dresser. That makes sense, I guess. I pull my wallet from my pocket, followed by my phone, and then take off my own jeans.
When I turn around, she is still standing up—staring at me, her expression blank. Her breasts are too big for her bra, threatening to spill from the fabric, her thong tight across her hips, barely covering the top of her pussy. The fact that I am right here in nothing but my briefs, and she is right there in nothing but lingerie has me thinking thoughts I shouldn’t. We could fuck, right here, right now, and no one would know. Not Deacon, not Eliza, not anyone.
Or could we? She is an enigma. The bite in her words says she is annoyed with me, like she would bolt from this room if a cab were out front and the road were clear. Yet something in her eyes, the way she is staring at me right now, says she wants me.
And even though I know it is a terrible idea, I think I want her to want me. Because I think I want her.
Dammit. I don’t want to want her. You can’t build a house with someone else’s bricks.
She pulls back the covers before tucking her body under them and rolling over to face the wall. I crawl into the bed, too, but I stay on my back, staring at the ceiling. All I can think of is the fact that her ass is literally two feet across the bed. An urge overwhelms me—a voice telling me to simply lift the blanket a little bit and peek at what’s underneath. But I can’t do that. She would know what I was doing, and I have apparently already done enough to bother her, because her attitude has completely changed from Nelly’s. Hell, from early this morning, even.
Women are complicated. I could be wrong, but I am pretty sure Emily was giving me signals before today, never mind the kiss months ago. So why is she, now that we are alone, shying away? How can we be here in this room with no one knowing about this, and she actually … sleep? The only conclusion I can come to is she isn’t interested in me anymore, that any interest she did have has evaporated.
And that will eat at me. It will drive me crazy, because as egotistical as it sounds, I have never been rejected. Even with Eliza’s lies and infidelity, she still wanted to be with me in the end. This sudden coldness blowing from Emily is stirring up things I have never felt. I feel … almost insecure for the first time ever, and I don’t like it.
I want to make her want me, whether it is right or wrong.
“Emily?” I whisper. I’m not sure what I want to ask her, but she has been so quiet since she got into bed. I raise my voice louder, place my hand gently on her shoulder. “Emily?”
She doesn’t move or respond. I wait a few minutes, and then I do something I should be ashamed of. I reach over, my hand flipping the switch on the lamp to take it from dim to bright. I hesitate, then lift the blanket. Her ass is perfect—round and tight. The way it is jutted toward my side of the bed. How the light falls onto it. The shadow where her thong disappears. I fight myself, vowing not to reach out and touch it. Forcing my eyes to look elsewhere, I trail them upward—the curve of her back just as sexy.
Letting out a soft, deep breath, I set the blanket back down. I wonder if she felt that, even in her sleep—the movement of air as I stole a peek at something that doesn’t belong to me. I reach under the the coverlet and adjust myself, the hardness of my cock a testament to how irresistible I find her. When I first met her, after the obvious physical attraction and familiarity of having met her before, I think I was drawn to her sweetness, her tears over a relationship that failed, her commitment to Eliza, her sadness over Deacon. Maybe I was drawn to the damsel in distress. Now she is stronger, more jaded, and her sudden indifference toward me is driving me crazy.
“Emily?” I ask once more for good measure. No response. I get up quietly, looking back at her to make sure she’s asleep. The lamp goes black with the flick of my thumb, and then I head to the bathroom. I want to be inside her, no matter how fucked up it is. I lock the door and turn on the water. I could leave it cold. Could get in and clear my thoughts, let my arousal freeze away. The curvature of her ass flashes through my mind, and I turn the water to hot. As hot as I can take. I step in, pulling the curtain shut.
I let the water run over my body as I tear open the bar of soap—Emily’s perfect, smooth ass all I see while I lather it between my hands. My hand grips my cock. It is harder than it has been in recent memory, and I am half-afraid I will come before I get to enjoy it. My fist squeezes hard around it, stroking back and forth, my eyes closed, imagining everything I would do to her. She is on all fours, my face between her sweet ass before licking my way down to her pussy. The thought brings me closer, threatening to push me over. I slow my rhythm, not wanting to come yet, when a knock sounds on the door.
“Brooks?”
Oh God, just the sound of her voice nearly makes me blow.
“Brooks? I have to pee!”
“Uh … just a minute.” I open the curtain, water spraying everywhere as I search for a towel and yank one off the bar. Wrapping it around me, I turn the lock on the door before turning off the water and stepping back to the shower.
The door opens before I can close the curtain, and the connection of our eyes is maddening. A smirk crosses her face while she nonchalantly turns, pulls down her fucking thong, revealing only a glimpse of her shaved pussy, and proceeds to pee right in front of me.
Holy. Fuck.
“Your um...” Her finger points, stalling in the air before she looks away.
My eyes look down at the towel, the bulge unmistakable. I start to speak, but nothing comes out, so I close the curtain as quickly as possible.
Dammit, I mouth to myself, punching the air.
The toilet flushes. Water runs for a minute. The door closes. My breathing is rapid and deep. She knows. She knows I was thinking about her. How embarrassing. I step out of the shower, the towel still around me. I am prepared for my walk of shame back to the bed after I open the door, but the door to the room slams.
What the fuck?
“Emily?” I don’t know why I call her name, because I know she is gone.
I put my jeans back on, careful not to zip up part of my dick, stuff my feet into my shoes, and grab the key to the room. The hall is empty, the orange glow of fire coming from outside a door that leads to a garden area.
When I reach it, I see her out there wearing only her jeans and bra, leaning against the cabin wood, eyes staring at the fire pit. She is fearless. Eliza would have never gone out like that.
I step outside, stuff the key in my back pocket, and look around. We are the only ones out here.
“Come here.” Her arms cross over her chest, bringing her tits closer and higher.
Hesitantly, I approach her, wondering what she will say. She must think I am some sort of pervert. She has to know I looked at her ass.
I stop in front of her, my heart dropping at the sight of her eyes. The fire dances in them, and I see a brokenness in her that I can relate to.
“What is it?” My voice is gruff. I am simultaneously nervous and excited.
But she says nothing. Her eyes are on my lips, her tongue passing over her own before her bottom lip drags under her teeth. She looks at me again, the heat in her eyes saying enough.
She wants something. There is no mistaking it. And I can’t help but give it to her.