“You’re all set! Do you need anything else?”
I jump in surprise, momentarily forgetting where I am before taking the cards from the receptionist.
“No, that’s everything. Thanks so much,” I say, pausing before I leave the desk. “Actually, when does the pool and hot tub area close?”
“It’s open all night, and you’ll need your access card to get in.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
She smiles. “Of course.”
I run for the elevators, needing to come up with a plan before Dominik shows up and ruins my sleep. This was supposed to be a weekend away with minimal stress, and now my entire body feels like it’s coming alive with the anticipation of spending an entire night locked in a room with Dominik.
Unrelenting, persistent, mouthwatering Dominik.
I’m in big fucking trouble.
The room is justas luxurious as the rest of the hotel. A bit dated, but well-maintained and the cleanest hotel room I’ve ever stepped foot inside. Pretty sure I could set up camp on the padded carpet and it would still be comfortable. There is an idea. I’ll make Dominik sleep on the floor.
But then, in the middle of the room, sits a colossal wooden king-sized bed making my core tighten with an unwanted need. I lack the courage to even approach the bed. As I get closer, the floor-to-ceiling window on the twenty-first floor catches my eye. It showcases the stunning night view of downtown Vancouver, wrapped in darkness.
An image of me and Dominik, naked and pressed against the glass, flashes through my mind and nearly has me gasping for air. I have some serious problems, and right now, the inner chaos inside me is threatening to swallow me whole.
As I pace around my room for what seems like an eternity, a realization finally hits me—I have both room keys, which means I can slip away to the pool without worrying about running into Dominik down there. And the rest of the team will be at the club for a few more hours. Hopefully, the pool will be empty. I can swim and compose myself, find some calm, and strategize on getting through this overnight trip with no regrets.
I change into my bathing suit, put on the hotel’s white robe, slip on my flip-flops, and head outside.
Leaving the elevator, I don’t notice anyone as I approach the full glass doors at the end of the winding, creme hallway. My room key beeps against the card reader as it flashes green. Pulling open the handle, I step inside the serene oasis of the hotel’s pool and notice it’s completely deserted. The blue water gently shimmers in front of me as the sound of my own footsteps slap against the tiles.
Dropping my robe on a nearby lounge chair, I slip into the heated pool and feel my body relax for the first time in hours.
This feels amazing.
The water surrounds me, its warmth embracing me like a gentle hug as I completely submerge my body. Swimming with steady strokes, my arms slice through the water as I try to release every anxious thought floating around inside my head. Hoping it all bleeds out of me right here and leaves me devoid of emotion by the time I’m done. I’m wrestling with myself. I have been for weeks.
I never actually allowed myself to feel everything that happened the day I discovered who Dominik is. That he was behind darkhorse, he was Runi in Boston. My Runi…
I didn’t even allow myself to think about all the intimate moments we shared. That it was him who saw me at my most vulnerable, leaving me raw and abused and wanting more. It was him on that couch, forcing me down until I whimpered his name, soaking his fingers.
I didn’t allow myself to face the fact that, despite everything, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort with him. With Runi. With Dominik.
And in every scenario, in every fantasy, I still want more of him. Knowing everything I know now hasn’t changed that. It’s made me angry, but the desire to be with him hasn’t dissipated. The boundaries I vowed I’d never cross are still there, but somehow, they are fading into the background, and I think I hate that the most.
No, I hate him.
I hate his stupid hair and the way his clothes stick to his perfectly chiseled body.
I hate his stupid fucking tattoos, and how I just want to trace my fingers over them while lying on top of him.
I hate the way he looks at me and the way his eyes linger on mine, making me feel exposed to the world.
I hate the way my body reacts to him.
Fuck him and his beautiful smile, and those dual-colored eyes that stupefy me without effort. He doesn’t even realize the pull he has on me. And out of all the things I hate about him, that one is at the top of the list.
It’s all wrong.
The promises, our past, our present…the weight of what could be.
