“Are you leaving?” I ask in a voice almost toolow to recognize.
“Thought I heard room service, but you’re even better.” He opens the door wider, inviting me inside his bright, charming hotel suite. The scent of fresh laundry and lavender soap swirls inside my nostrils. He must’ve taken a shower. Thinking of him wet, standing only in a towel, sends warmth pooling in my belly and causes tingling between my thighs.
Stop thinking about it. Just smile and nod. You can function like a normal woman.
Sully offers his hand, and I place mine in his. He gingerly tugs me inside. There’s no worming my way out of this now. I stand tall and pray I don’t get tongue-tied when I look into his ocean-blue eyes as I step farther into his room, and the door closes behind me.
5
Sully’swearingblacksweatpantsand a white tee that clings to his broad chest, hinting at the sculpted physique underneath without quite hiding it. I’ve seen photos of him without a shirt, and it’s marvelous. There’s a recent cologne ad where his abs glisten and appear hard and perfect like he’s a Greek god statue come to life.
I shouldn’t be ogling him in the privacy of his hotel room. He’s not a piece of meat, but damn, he’s so much sexier in this light. Only the two lamps on either side of the bed are on. Their glow is a halo of yellow light. And my mind can’t stop wishing he’d peel that damn shirt off.
He pads over to the dresser barefoot and grabs a bottle of whiskey.Why am I still standing two feet away from the door gaping at him as if I’ve never seen a handsome man before?I force my eyes to inspect the small polka-dotted pattern in the carpet and shuffle toward Sully. But it also means I move closer to the bed, and alarms scream inside my head, ringing louder than my pounding heartbeat.
Now I can worry about being this close to a king-sized bedandSully.
“Do you want a drink?” His smooth-as-butter voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He lifts the whiskey bottle. “You drink, right?”
“Yeah…Sure,” I say quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed, an overwhelming urge to get up and run pulsing through me.
He pours the amber liquid into two tumblers and grabs them before sitting beside me. The bed dips under his weight and forces me to lean closer to him. His warm thigh touches mine and it sends my heart into overdrive as something flips inside my chest. Suddenly I’m transformed into a shy high school girl when her crush asks her to prom and she’s nothing but nervous smiles and millions of butterflies in her stomach. I’m giddy and scared out of my skull. What a silly feeling this is. My palms are clammy and I keep wiping them on my pants in the hopes he won’t notice.
“Are you okay,Schatz?” he asks in his deep, seductive accent. The word hits me like a jolt—Schatz, the German term for “sweetheart,” something I remember from high school classes—and my already racing heart stumbles. Is he trying to drive me insane?
“Mmm-hmm,” I answer, not trusting my voice. He offers me a glass. I accept it, taking a swig.
Please let my liquid courage be swift so I don’t have an anxiety attack.
Truth be told I haven’t been this close to a man since my ex. He’d be romantic one night and cold as a dead fish the next. I never knew what mood he’d be in or if it was me. If I was sexy enough. But before I could figure it out, “the incident” happened, and he left me alone to gather the pieces of my shattered ego.
Sully sips his drink and then rests the glass on his knee. “You don’t seem okay. Areyou—”
“Nervous?” I say in a rush, running the tip of my finger over my glass’s rim. “No…Yes…I’m sorry.”
He stands and leans against the dresser. “I don’t want to scare you. What can I do?”
“Not sure.” I twirl the liquor in my glass. “I broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago. It was messy and it’s been hanging over me since.”
“Understood. Relationships know how to fuck us up, don’t they?” He makes a deep raspy sound like a sorrowful laugh. “The pain helps me write songs. How do you use the pain?”
“I toss myself into work to avoid how it makes me feel.”
Why do I feel like I can be honest with him? It’s as if his gaze sees straight through me, unraveling something deep inside, and before I know it, the words spill out.
“We can talk if you want or watch something. The remote’s somewhere.” He moves a pile of folded shirts and looks underneath them then starts opening drawers.
“You don’t need to find it. I could—”
A knock on the door keeps me from rambling on. “Hold that thought,” Sully says, rushing away to open the door.
Chills bite into my flesh. I ache to be close—feel his warmth beside me, his pulse beneath my fingertips, and the softness of his cupid’s bow lips on mine. But the fear of rejection and abandonment wraps around me like chains, holding me back, keeping me trapped in this cage of doubt.
Sully greets a man wearing a hotel uniform and allows him to enter the room. He’s pushing a cart with an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne and something covered by a silver lid.
“Thank you,” Sully tells the room service man, handing him a tip. The man nods and leaves without looking in my direction.
“Maybe I should go and let you eat.” I hop off the bed and set my glass on the dresser. “It’s late and I—”
