By the time I slide my key card into the door handle, I feel his warmth behind me. It takes everything I have not to smile as butterflies swarm my stomach.
Here I go falling with no safety net in place.
His hand finds the small of my back, and before I can respond, my words get stuck in my throat, and I can’t breathe.
Here I go losing control again.
Summoning my strength and resolve, I lead him into the cool hotel room I’m supposed to be sharing with my MIA sister.
“You can sleep on the sofa.” I gather spare pillows and blankets from the linen closet and toss them to him before clicking off the lights and turning on a single lamp. The room is dark, but there’s enough light to see what needs to be seen.
I crawl under the covers of one of the queen-sized beds and listen to the rustle of the sheets as he makes up his bed.
Silence consumes the space around us after a while. I’m lying here in a puddle of disappointment, but I’m not sure what I expected. I guess maybe I thought he’d throw me against the wall, crush my waiting mouth with full lips, and make me his all over again.
Maybe that sort of thing only happens in the movies.
I roll to my side, suddenly wide awake. “You mind if I shut off the lamp?”
“Go for it.”
Seconds later, we’re wrapped in darkness. He’s on the other side of the room, but he may as well be beside me because my heart is fluttering and my stomach is tied in knots and my palms are sweaty.
The sound of Zane tossing and turning comes next, and I have a feeling he isn’t too comfortable over there.
And then I think of Daphne.
Reaching for my phone, I check for new texts and come up empty-handed. Firing off another just-checking-on-you message, the light from the screen blasts my vision and temporarily blinds me. Blinking a few times, I sit the phone on the nightstand and nearly choke on my spit when Zane’s outline takes shape beside the bed.
“God, you scared me.” I’m breathless. Nervous. Terrified. Curious.
“I need an extra pillow. Mind if I steal one?”
I grab one from the spot next to me and hand it off, but he stands there, and even in the dark, I feel his stare. My body is paralyzed as I wait for his next move, my hands clenching the tops of the covers.
In my heart of heart and mind of minds, I know I’m being ridiculous.
I slept with this man for Christ’s sake.
He’s been inside me.
“Night, gorgeous.” Zane’s shadowy figure returns to the sofa bed, and just like that, my body relaxes. Nothing’s going to happen tonight. I know that now.
“Goodnight.”
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and a text from my sister flashes across the screen.
DAPHNE: STILL WITH WESTON. DON’T WAIT UP.
I text her back a quick “goodnight.”
DAPHNE: I THINK I LOVE HIM. NOT LITERALLY. BUT YOU KNOW… I COULD PROBABLY HAVE HIS BABIES AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE BABIES THAT MUCH.
Laughing through my nose, I shake my head and dim my screen before settling back into bed. I pull the sheets up to my neck, roll away from Zane’s direction, and shut my eyes, though it’s not like I’ll be doing much sleeping tonight.
He’s a distraction over there.
An obnoxious, delicious, ridiculously sexy distraction.
My body got all worked up over nothing. I’m lying here, ready to go at a moment’s notice, and he’s sawing logs without a care in the world.
Asshole.
Okay, not really.
This time, I’m the asshole. I think.
Chapter 12
Zane
I wake with a knot in my neck and side of morning wood, my feet dangling off the side of this ridiculously small sofa and the covers in a heap on the floor. I’m a wild sleeper. This isn’t unusual.
Pulling myself up, I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes until they come into focus enough for me to see Delilah’s bed is empty.
Dragging myself off the couch, I shuffle to the bathroom to piss.
“Oh, god!” Delilah stands naked just outside the shower, her damp hair sticking to her shoulders and her body drenched in steam. She grabs a towel off a nearby hook and drapes it in front of her body – as if I haven’t seen every square inch of her before.
“Jesus, sorry.” I lift a hand in protest.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?”
“I didn’t know you were in here.”
She wraps the towel around her, securing it under her left arm, her cheeks flushed and rosy. The scent of hotel soap fills the steamy air between us.
“Are you just going to keep standing there?” she asks. “You mind?”
I shake my head. “Yeah. I just . . . sorry. It’s early. And I couldn’t think for a second because you’re standing there in nothing but a fucking towel. It’s distracting.”