“Do you always make a habit of rescuing women from creepy guys in bars when you’re running from your feelings?”
“I’m not running.”
“Denial, then.”
I lean in close enough that our knees almost brush. Close enough to smell the wine on her breath. Close enough to see her pulse thrum in her neck.
“Careful, Claire. You keep poking at me, you might not like what you unleash.”
“Promise?”
Christ. She’s dangerous.
She’s everything I shouldn’t want.
Everything I can’t seem to look away from.
“What about you?” I ask, needing to change the subject. “Do you make a habit out of having a drink with older men you meet in hotel bars?”
She lifts a shoulder, unbothered. “Only the ones with devastating jawlines who flirt with younger women hoping to forget whatever’s eating them up inside.”
I bring my glass to my lips. “Care to help with that?”
She smiles, slow and knowing. “I think I already am.”
She’s right. I haven’t thought about the test results in ten minutes. Haven’t thought about the time I lost or the fact that somewhere out there is a young man trying to understand why his father never came looking for him.
Right now, all I can think about is the curve of her mouth. The spark in her eyes. The slow, simmering heat building between us, getting hotter with every breath.
I came down here to forget, even for a little while.
But maybe the antidote to what I’m feeling isn’t at the bottom of a bourbon glass.
Maybe it’s sitting next to me.
CHAPTER THREE
DECLAN
The walktoward the elevators feels longer than it should. With every step, every brush of Claire’s arm against mine, the tension in my body winds tighter and tighter, like a coil ready to snap.
Her perfume teases me with each measured inhale. Warm, soft, with a hint of something floral and sweet. She bumps into me lightly, laughing as she tells me about a woman named Grandma Estelle from her hometown who, at eighty-something years young, has a fascination with alien erotica and will tell anyone who will listen about her current read.
I pretend not to notice how the sound of her laughter curves down my spine, or how the heat from her skin seeps through my clothes, settling beneath my ribs.
I shouldn’t be walking her to her room. I should have said goodnight at the bar. Hell, I should have said goodnight after one drink. But one turned into two, which I drank slowly so that I had an excuse to linger in her presence a little longer.
We spent the past several hours talking about anything that popped into our heads. Or, more appropriately, anything that popped into Claire’s head. I didn’t do much talking, but I didn’t mind. I liked listening to her voice. Watching her mouth move. She was the distraction I didn’t know I needed tonight.
The lobby is mostly empty at this late hour, the click of Claire’s heels on the marble floor the only sound. I press the elevator button, keeping my hands jammed into my pockets so I don’t do something stupid.
Like reach for her.
Pull her closer.
See if she tastes as sweet as she smells.
Before I can allow my thoughts to run away, the elevator doors slide open and we step inside.
