“Okay.” I grin, loving the way she can’t even look at me right now.
“When I go down, I hear a rip.”
I laugh and then she does look at me.
“It gets worse. This super-cute guy from my dorm stops to help me up, but I don’t want his help because I suspect my ass is hanging out of my pants, you know? So I try to wave him off but he thinks I’m offering him a hand to give me a boost to my feet. Once I’m up I grab my butt to determine how bad the damage is and I think I’m playing it off as if I’m just wiping the seat of my pants off, but he thinks I’m hurt so he asks if I’m okay and somehow this ends with him looking at my ass. Literally, because this was freshman year, when I decided to assert my newfound independence by wearing thong panties.”
“That’s pretty bad,” I agree with a sympathetic nod.
“I couldn’t make eye contact with that guy for the rest of the semester.”
“But did you make it to class on time?” I attempt to ask this with a straight face but fail.
“Ha ha,” she snaps and glances quickly away, but a moment later she mumbles, “Yes.”
“You went to class after that? You really were a nerd.”
“Yeah. The very worst part is that I was wearing sensible boots. My sensible boots did not save me from falling on my ass.”
“Bit of a disaster, weren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Did you get laid at all in university?”
“Not till junior year.”
I laugh out loud then. This girl.
“I’m still traumatized by the sound of ripping denim.”
“I’d imagine so, love. I’d imagine so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Violet
The sexual tension in the backseat of the car on the way back to the hotel is off the charts. At least, it is to me, but there’s no way he’s not feeling it too. It’s like a tangible line strumming between us. His arm is wrapped around my shoulder, fingertip lightly stroking the outer curve of my breast. My hand is on his thigh, leisurely caressing up and down. Quiet kisses leave no doubt how tonight ends.
The car—a car service, not an Uber, I learned when the same SUV was waiting for us after dinner—drops us at the front door of the hotel. Jennings takes my hand and we walk inside, the motion-activated doors whooshing behind us. We’re quiet as we head to the elevators, hands entwined, and I imagine we look like a couple who’s content with one another instead of one who’s only just met. I feel comfortable with him.
When we reach the door to my room he stops and turns me to face him, leaning down and kissing me. His lips press softly against mine, one hand behind my neck and the other resting on my hip. He nips my bottom lip between his teeth before breaking the kiss and taking a half step back, running his hand across his jaw and lower lip. “Good night,” he says, a heated spark in his eyes. Then he turns around and starts walking back to the elevators.
What. The hell?
“Where are you going?” I whisper-yell it at his retreating figure, because it is late and this is a family-friendly hotel.
He stops, turns, but doesn’t walk back. There’s three or four feet separating us when we should be naked with nothing between us besides a thin layer of latex covering his cock.
“My room.” He points a thumb over his shoulder toward the elevators. “First date. I’ve escorted you to your door and kissed you good night accordingly.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor.
“No?” He raises one brow in challenge. “I assumed coming in was off the table on a first date. I seem to recall you mentioning it in your litany of first-date rules.”
“For normal guys. You’re not normal.”
“So I’m special? Or odd?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and cocks his head to the side. I don’t miss the grin that sneaks across his face either.
“Are you trying to make me beg? Besides, they were guidelines, not rules,” I add as I stand taller and lift my chin in defiance, arms crossed over my chest.
“Ah, guidelines. So they’re optional then?”
“They’re guidelines. You know, to guide. Like a suggestion, not a law.”
“Ahh. I see.” He nods but he’s still not moving. “I do rather like the idea of you begging, love. Now that you’ve mentioned it.” He takes one step towards me and stops. “Invite me in, then.”
He really is making me work for this.
“Would you like to come inside?” The words come out softer than I intended, more seductive, and I blush at the double meaning and tap the keycard in my hand against my forehead with a tiny groan.