He studies my face so carefully, brows furrowed and jaw tight. “Are you sick? Do you want me to get your friends?”
“No,” I say quickly and shake my head. “I’m okay.”
His posture relaxes slightly but he stays where he is, caging me in place as he waits for me to say more.
I couldn’t explain how I’m feeling even if I fully understood it. So instead of trying, I lift onto my toes once more but this time I don’t hesitate. I crush my lips against his. For a fraction of a second, he’s frozen and I think I might die a death of humiliation if he rejects me. But then he lets out a low growl and takes full control of the kiss.
I knew he’d be a good kisser, but even I underestimated just how good he’d be. He leans closer so his chest presses lightly to mine, but he keeps his hands to himself. And yet somehow, I feel it everywhere. My pulse thrums quickly and my skin is on fire in all the places I want him to touch me.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, hungry and reverent all at once. I think he says my name again but the blood pounding in my ears makes it difficult to hear anything else. He pulls back only to nip at my bottom lip and then presses his nose into the side of my neck and inhales.
“The things I want to do to you.” His teeth scrape lightly along my collarbone.
“Yes.” I press into him. He’s so much taller and bigger than me, which isn’t really a novelty since most everyone is taller than me, but the way he blocks out everything else by shielding me makes me feel safe and more than a little reckless.
He groans and the sound vibrates through me. He rests his forehead against mine. His chest rises and falls in quick succession to match my own.
“Why did you stop?”
He brushes his lips over mine again and then steps back instead of answering me. “Come on, trouble. I promised you an all-night party to celebrate with your friends and I’m dangerously close to hauling you out of here where I can have you all to myself.”
Before I can tell him I prefer the second option, his fingers circle around my wrist and he tugs me after him.
It’s the last thing I remember.
12
HANNAH
“Hannah.” Travis’s voice is a husky whisper in my dreams. His lips ghost over my temple and he places soft kisses as he brushes my hair away from my face.
Dream Travis is sweet and tender. It isn’t the first time he’s had a starring role in my dreams, but it is the first time I’ve woken up with memories to compare the different versions of him.
I stretch my legs out under the covers at the same time I realize my phone alarm is going off. My muscles ache as I turn and reach toward my nightstand, only to realize several things at once.
Number one: I’m not in my own bed. I’m in a hotel in Vegas. But this is not the room I’m sharing with Kinsley and Skylar. Or I’m seeing double because this room is huge.
Number two: I have no idea where my phone is, but it is in fact not on the nightstand beside the bed. Someone else’s black phone case lies face down there instead, next to a colorful flower arrangement.
And number three, and this one is important: I’m not alone.
“’Morning.” Travis’s voice is deep and thick with sleep.
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to three, hoping when I open them again, I’ll have imagined it all. The voice, the room, the arm around my waist, and the hard…everything pressed in behind me.
“Oh god,” I say when reality slams into me. I cover my face with both hands and slowly turn over, then peek out between my fingers.
If I weren’t heading into a panic attack, I might notice how good Travis looks first thing in the morning. His dark hair falls onto his forehead more than usual, stubble dotting his jaw, and a sleepy expression that’s somehow both sweet and hot as hell.
He smiles that uneven smile with one side of his mouth pulling higher than the other and lifts an arm to rub the back of his neck. He’s not wearing a shirt and the way the sheet hangs low around his hips, I think it might not be the only thing he isn’t wearing.
I get to my feet quickly, relieved to find I’m not naked, but that relief is short-lived because I’m wearing his shirt. The one he had on last night before we…oh god, what did we do?
The continuous beeping of my alarm draws my attention again and I choose to focus on that. I turn in a circle, searching for it and then move in the direction of the sound. I find it under a pile of my things—dress, shoes, purse—carefully placed on a chair in the corner of the room. Kinsley will be so happy to know that I took very good care of her dress even while making very bad decisions.
I silence the alarm and then there’s nothing left to do but freak out.
“You look like you’re crashing out,” he says, sitting up in the bed. That sleepy, charming, slightly cocky expression is still plastered on his face. He moves like he’s going to stand.
