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She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and navigated the plush carpet, pushing the glass door open.
The night air hit Victoria instantly, a sharp contrast to the stifling warmth of the lounge. The hotel’s terrace was shadowed, illuminated only by the faint glow of the brass sconces on the brick wall. The rain had slowed to a freezing mist, leaving the stone balustrade slick.
Behind her, the door clicked shut. The ambient noise of the bar was entirely severed.
Victoria turned, setting her whiskey on a wrought-iron table. The blonde woman had followed her. She was standing a few feet away, the wind teasing the loose strands of hair around her jawline. Without the liquid courage of the crowded bar to hide behind, the reckless energy radiating from her was crushing.
"You don't strike me as someone who runs away from a noisy room," the woman said, her raspy voice breathless.
"I don't," Victoria replied. She leaned back against the wet stone of the balustrade, ignoring what the moisture would do to the bespoke wool of her trousers. "I just prefer not to share my entertainment."
The challenge was absolute. The woman didn't hesitate this time.
She crossed the remaining distance in three strides, stepping into Victoria’s space with an unapologetic warmth that made Victoria’s pulse misfire. The woman’s hands came up, hovering for a small second in a silent question, before her fingers curled firmly into the lapels of Victoria's charcoal blazer.
The sudden pull caught Victoria completely off balance. Her world was built on careful distance and polite boundaries, but this woman simply hauled her close, as if she had done it a hundred times before.
The moment their lips met, a violent jolt of electricity severed the last thread of Victoria’s self-control. The blonde woman’s mouth was demanding, tasting of bitter ale and a hunger. Victoria gasped against her lips, and the woman took immediate advantage, deepening the kiss with a confident slide of her tongue that sent a rush of heat straight to Victoria’s core.
Victoria’s hands moved of their own accord. She reached up, her fingers tangling in the messy knot of the woman’s hair. The strands were soft, smelling of rain and the grounding scent of vanilla. She pulled her closer, an involuntary sound escaping her throat as the woman’s strong thigh pressed insistently against her own.
For the first time in years, Victoria let herself go, kissing her back with a ferocity that surprised them both, her teeth grazing the woman's lower lip, demanding everything she had been denying herself for ages. The woman groaned, a vibrating sound that traveled straight through Victoria's chest, her hands tightening on the expensive wool of the blazer, pulling Victoria flush against her body.
They were consumed by each other, the freezing mist forgotten against the searing heat of their bodies. Victoria didn't want to stop. She wanted to back this stranger up against the brick wall, strip off the damp shirt, and trace the strong line of her collarbone until she forgot her own name.
The sharp scrape of the glass door sliding open tore through the night.
"Oh—sorry! Didn't realize anyone was out here," a male voice slurred, followed by the high-pitched giggle of a woman.
Victoria and the blonde woman broke apart instantly.
Victoria pressed her back against the stone balustrade, her chest heaving as she dragged the air into her lungs. Beside her, the woman took a sharp step back, her deep green eyes blown wide, her lips flushed. The drift of cigarette smoke and voices cut straight through the bubble between them.
Victoria smoothed the front of her blazer, an ingrained reflex to restore order. Her hands were actually shaking. It was a dreadful realization. She couldn't do this here. Not in the cold, not with an audience, and definitely not when she wanted to take this woman apart.
She looked at the stranger. The blonde woman was staring at her, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the ribbed tank top, clearly just as unwilling to let the night end.
Victoria reached into the pocket of her trousers. Her fingers found the matte-black plastic of her hotel keycard.
She stepped back into the woman’s space, much slower this time. The air between them instantly condensed again. Victoria reached out, sliding her hand inside the unbuttoned edge of the flannel shirt. She felt the frantic beat of the woman's heart against her knuckles as she slipped the keycard into the breast pocket.
The woman looked down at Victoria's hand, then up to her dark eyes, swallowing hard.
"Penthouse suite," Victoria murmured, her voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable promise. She let her fingertips drag lightly over the cotton of the shirt before pulling away. "The private elevator requires the card. Don't make me wait."
Without looking back, Victoria picked up her handbag and walked past the smoking couple, slipping back into the warmth of the hotel, leaving the blonde woman standing breathless in the rain.
Chapter Four
Emma
The freezing rain continued to fall, soaking through the shoulders of Emma’s flannel shirt, but she couldn't feel the cold.
She stood alone on the terrace, staring at the empty space where the woman had been seconds ago. The weight of the plastic keycard resting inside her breast pocket felt like a burning coal against her ribs.
Penthouse suite.
What the hell are you doing, Em? Emma squeezed her eyes shut, dragging a shaky breath into her lungs. You don't even know her name. You have the worst meeting of your entire life tomorrow morning. You need to drive back. You need to sleep.
