“Coming!”
“Your jacket, Luca!” Chelsea shrieks.
“Keep it. I have to go now, so I’m in my room at checks, but I don’t want to say goodbye to you like this.”
“Maguire!”
“Come to my room for a proper goodbye in thirty minutes, okay? Please?”
“Maguire!”
“Just to say goodbye,” I assure her, since Chelsea suddenly looks a bit shell-shocked. “I just don’t want this magical night to end abruptly like this.”
Chelsea looks at the elevator and then back to me, her cheeks blooming and her bright blue eyes on fire. “Okay. Now go, Luca.”
“Thirty minutes!” As I sprint toward the elevator—it’s noticeably beeping angrily by now—I shout my room number at Chelsea and instruct her to knock three times. And as the elevator doors close in front of me, I flash Chelsea one final smile and say a little prayer she’ll not only come to my room, as promised, but maybe even give me a goodnight kiss while she’s there, as well.
“Thanks for coming,” I whisper as I pull Chelsea into my dimly lit hotel room. She’s dressed in a T-shirt and leggings. Her makeup is gone. I’m hoping her dressed-down appearance means she’s planning to get comfortable and stay a while. At least longer than it takes to say a quick goodbye.
“Hi,” she whispers softly. “Oh. Here.” She hands me my jacket, and I toss it onto a nearby chair.
“They already came for room checks,” I report. “Nobody will be coming again till morning. Not that I’m expecting you to stay till then, of course. I’m just saying we’re good for however long you want to stay.”
Her gaze drifts to the second unmade bed in the small room.
“He’s not coming back till morning,” I say with a jerk of my chin. “After checks, he sneaked out to meet someone.”
Chelsea’s eyes widen, and I suddenly realize how badly I’m messing up. I truly invited her here only to say goodbye, if that’s all she wants to do. I mean, yes, I’d also love for her to stick around and do something more than just talking. But I swear I’d take merely talking to her, the same way we did at the ice cream place, if it meant being near her for however long she’ll give me.
I blurt, “I know you said you had to get to bed early, but—”
“No, no. I’m good. Forget I said that.” She wrings her hands. “I’m glad to be here. And glad we’re alone. I’m just a little bit nervous, if I’m being honest. But excited, too.”
I swallow hard. “You’re nervous about … me?”
“No. About, you know … what might happen while we’re here together. Alone.” Her eyes drift to my bed, and her meaning is clear enough. Holy shit.
My heart hammering, I motion toward my neatly made bed. “Do you want to sit, or …?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I can sit on the floor, if you want.”
She shakes her head. “Sit with me.”
Holy fucking shit.
We head to the bed and sit on the edge, shoulder to shoulder. And the second we’re there, I can’t help feeling like Chelsea’s nonverbally screaming at me to kiss her. I wait a beat to make sure I’m not imagining it. And when I’m sure that’s what her body language is shouting at me, I whisper, “Can I kiss you, Chelsea?”
“Yes, please.”
My heart thrumming, I lean in and gently peck Chelsea’s soft lips, just to get a read on her. And when she slides her hand to the back of my neck, I open her lips gently with mine,slide my tongue into her mouth, and deepen the kiss. All of a sudden, it’s like I can physically feel her pulse quickening—like I can hear every inhale and exhale that betrays her rising temperature and soaring heartbeat.
Feeling electrified, I slide my fingers into Chelsea’s thick, dark hair, and in a flash, our kiss becomes passionate, like every cell in my body has turned into infinite, tiny bombs exploding inside me.
“Okay if we lie down?” I ask hoarsely.
“With our clothes on,” she chokes out.
