As long as I stick to them, everything will be just fine.
It has to be.
8
Kit
Ten minutes. He’ll be here soon.
I should’ve had something to drink. It didn’t seem like a good idea. Clear-headed seemed better, but now clear-headed feels like torture. My nerves are hopping, my belly’s twisted up. If I’m not careful, I’ll throw up.
There’s a bar downstairs. I could run down. Or call room service and order a shot. Or three.
No. No, this is about keeping my cool, being clear on what we’re here for. This isn’t about sex.
I can be level-headed.
Shutting my eyes, I breathe deep.
I’m calm. Pretend this is the doctor’s office. Pretend the nurse let me into this very fancy room. She’s taken my vitals, put me in a robe.
I look down at the high-necked dress I’ve got on. Bare feet. Bra, no panties.
Yeah. Close enough.
Another breath, counting in, then out. Maybe I’ll meditate. It’s worked in the past. After the separation, it was just about the only thing that?—
A knock at the door has me jumping out of my skin. I barely manage to suppress a startled scream.Come on, Kit, woman up already. You’re stronger than this.
I am. I’m strong. A thick-skinned survivor. If I don’t nip this in the bud I’ll freeze up or something and he won’t even be able to get the damn thing in.
Ugh, why’d I have to go and think about that?
Because it’s what’s about to happen, Kit, you fool.
With another slow inhale, I walk to the door, pause with my eyes closed for three more seconds, and then swing it wide.
Whoa. Oh shit.Wow.
He’s cleaned up. The man I’ve only ever seen looking scruffy in leather or denim and chefs’ clothes is wearing honest to god suit pants, his white button-down shirt so well cut, I can’t imagine it wasn’t custom tailored for those muscles. His hair looks slightly damp, like he recently showered, and it takes effort to resist reaching up to test its softness.
I could.
No. No extra touching. Nothing that will make this…more.
“Hey.”
“Come in.”
I step back and he walks in and I smell him, only this time that pure man scent’s mixed with cologne or aftershave and it isdelicious.
Is this how he’d dress for a date? Is that what this look is about?
No. No, this is more like interview wear. Or first day at the job or, who knows, a meeting with a parole officer or something.
“Nice hotel,” he says, taking in the crisp bedding, the thick curtains, the dark furnishings, the tasteful, minimalist art on the walls.
I’m ignoring the issue of the bathroom having no door which would have been a no-go, had I known. We’ll deal with that if we need to, at some point. I mean, the toilet has a door. That’s what matters. I doubt we’ll be taking a shower here today. At least not together.
