Chapter Thirteen
Then
I’m so nervous when we reach my room that I actually fumble the key card in the slot and then drop it before I can even get the door unlocked.
Before I can reach for it, Chris easily dips his knees, plucks it from the floor, and smiles. “Allow me.”
Of course it fricking unlocks for him the first try, because ofcourseit does.
He opens the door, standingthere and holding it open with his hand splayed flat against it, looking down at me with a simmering heat in his gaze that I’ve never seen anyone wear before. Not when they were looking at me, that is.
For someone only a couple of years older than me, he feels…sophisticated, controlled. In charge.
Comfortablein charge.
“After you,” he says.
I scurry past him and into the room.
Once the doorswings closed after him, he flips the deadbolt and security bar and makes sure the little cover is firmly in place over the viewfinder.
He looks around before setting his bag down next to the dresser. “This is nice.”
“The sunset view is great.”
“Hmm.” He walks over to the sliders, where I’d left the curtain open earlier. “Nice.” Without preamble, he tugs the curtains closed. “Maybe we can watchthat tomorrow night, if you don’t get sick of me by then.”
The playful smile he casts at me over his shoulder makes me laugh. I set the bag holding our two containers of tiramisu onto the dresser. “Should I put these in the fridge?”
“Probably.” He toes off his sneakers while I do that. Then he walks over to the closet, where the room safe is located, and messes with that for a moment beforetesting it by closing and locking it and reopening it. “Don’t want to have to call the front desk to have someone come get my gun out,” he says with a smile. “I’d never live that down.” He unclips his badge and holster from his belt, puts them inside, and locks it.
“D-do you want me to turn on the TV?” I nervously ask.
“No.” With that, he goes to his bag, digs through it, and comes up with asmall speaker and his phone charger. He takes them and his phone over to the nightstand between the beds, sets it up by plugging the speaker into the phone, and the sound of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” starts playing just loudly enough to help cover sounds from outside the room.
Christopher sits on the bed closest to the bathroom and pats the mattress next to him.
I’m torn between wanting tolaunch myself at him and trying to look chill as I make my way over. I’m sure from the way the corner of his mouth quirks that I’m failing miserably in appearing anything other than completely out of my element.
I remove my glasses and lay them on the nightstand. Once I’m seated next to him, he holds out his hand again, palm up.
“Do you trust me?”
I nod and lay my hand in his. I want this.
Ireallywant this.
I wanthim.
His fingers close around mine, warm, strong, and his thumb strokes the backs of my fingers. I can’t focus on anything but that.
“You’ve never done anything with a guy before?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Just girls.”
“Why do you think you’re gay?”
I take a deep breath. “I guess I’ve always known I was, but I didn’t really…think about it until college. I couldn’t,not at home with my dad. And when I was with girls, it didn’t do much for me.”
