“Mmm,” he hummed, and I felt the vibration against my lips. He wrenched back from me, casting a sweeping gaze around the lobby. I felt a momentary disappointment at the new space between us that ended when his eyes fell back on me, burning with a question. “Then please tell me,” he said thickly, “that you want to get a room.”
3
Code Red
Here it was. Logan was asking if I wanted to have a one-night stand.The exact thing I’d come for, with the last person I’d thought was an option. A thrill raced up my spine.“Yes,”I said, putting all the weight I could into the word.
He gripped my hand and tugged me toward the front desk, moving so fast I had to skip a little to keep up. As we walked, he twined his fingers through mine.
“Hi,” he said to the small blonde woman behind the desk. She blinked and smiled at us, as if captivated by the possibility of what we might say next.
“Do you have any rooms available?” Logan flipped open his wallet and slid out a card.
“Oh, let me—” I started, but stopped when his protesting scoff actually echoed off the walls.
The woman at the desk smiled wider, clicking her keyboard. “Unfortunately, we’re almost fully booked. But we do have the governor’s suite available.”
Logan tensed. “The what?”
“Governor’s suite,” she repeated. “Named in honor of Governor Grover Mane. We’re big UT football fans around here.”
Them and everyone else in Austin. It was no wonder Grover Mane had been able to transition his legendary Longhorn football career into a political position. The governor was a sometimes friend of my sister, who liked him for being a more progressive Republican.
“God has a sense of humor, huh?” Logan looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting an answer. He snorted. “All right. We’ll take your ridiculously named suite. Here’s my card.”
“Great,” she chirped, turning the computer screen to face him. “And here’s the nightly charge.”
“Good God,” Logan burst out. “What is it, made of gold?” He looked at me with an incredulous expression, wanting me to share his outrage, and I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Thing #958 this man had said tonight that I wouldn’t say in a million years, no matter how much I wanted to. His eyes caught on my smile and he turned back to the woman with a resigned sigh. “Okay. Go ahead and fleece me.”
“Name on the room?”
“John Smith.” I quirked my brows at him, but he only arched his back at me. Apparently we were both playing different people tonight.
My nerves bubbled over waiting for the elevator doors to open. Logan slid an arm around my waist, pinning me to him, and his thumb drew an impatient circle on my ribcage. All I wanted was to ignore the woman watching from the desk and kiss him senseless.
The elevator doors dinged open and we strode inside, casual and slow. Rested our backs against the wall, side by side. “Lovely weather we’re having,” he said, as we watched the elevator doors inch together. The woman at the front desk waved.
Then the doors closed.
In one fluid movement Logan jammed the button for the eighth floor and lifted me onto the handrail. It was so fast I barely had time to catch my breath, but who needed air? Tonight the only thing I cared about was his mouth, searing kisses down my neck to the plunging dip in my dress. He nudged my legs apart and stepped between them, pressing against me. When I rocked my hips, he gripped them and pulled me closer.
“Bossy,” I breathed.
“Driven,” he countered.
Too soon, the elevator doors chimed and slid open. We stumbled down the hall, making terrible time, stopping to kiss against the wall, practically falling over each other. Hazily, I thought,No wonder Lee insisted I do this. Finally, Logan stopped at our room, swiped the key, and we were inside, lights springing to life of their own fancy volition.
“Whoa,” I murmured. This was the biggest hotel room I’d ever seen, nearly as big as my apartment, with a fireplace in the living room, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Austin, and a spiral staircase ascending to a second floor.
But—priorities. “Come here,” I said, and Logan obeyed, shutting the door and striding to me, dropping his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt as he moved. I slid my hands over his bare chest, curling my fingers in the small dusting of dark hair there, so intoxicated by him, inhibitions swept away in the face of my hunger. He pressed his lips to mine with a small growl in the back of his throat.
“I’m going to—” But Logan’s next words were drowned in an ear-splitting noise.
“What is that?” I yelled, pressing my hands over my ears.
“Fire alarm,” he shouted. “Fucking A.” He wrestled the door open. The hall was flooded with people. “Hey,” Logan called. “What’s going on?”
Out of nowhere a man came streaking down the hallway in nothing but a white T-shirt and polka-dot boxers, his face bright red and sweaty. “It’s not a drill!” he shrieked. “It’s a real fire. God save us!” Then he flung himself against the emergency exit door and disappeared. For a moment, the people in the hallway simply stood stunned. Then a young girl clutching a teddy bear burst into tears, and it was like a starting gun at the beginning of a race: everyone started running.
