After three more shots and a few more Jack and Cokes, I’m ready to make my way up to my room. I’m drunk but not so drunk that I’ll be sick in the morning or unable to take a girl home tonight. That thought has me searching the bar for options. I know I need to choose carefully so I don’t end up with some girl who’ll be hard to get rid of. Our waitress is wiping the table off, and I watch as she leans over in front of me, making sure I can see down her shirt. Looks like my choice has been made out of convenience.
When she brushes up against me, I grab her wrist and watch as she looks through her lashes again.
“What time are you off?” I ask, careful not to slur, and to make it clear what I’m asking.
“What time are you leaving?” She flirts with me, sitting down on the edge of the table and running her finger down my chest. I can smell her cheap perfume and cringe at the thought of tasting it on her skin. I quickly remind myself I don’t have to taste her to release the sexual tension Lori and I built up.
I lean in close, running my hand up the inside of her leg and answer, “Now.”
“I can take my break now and maybe come back to your room for a little while. I only have a few hours left on my shift, so if we’re still having fun, I can finish my shift and spend the night in your room.” I don’t tell her that won’t be necessary. I don’t let women stay with me overnight. It’s too much of a risk for me to have a woman around and in my business. I like my sexual partners to show discretion and be unattached.
I nod and tell myself I’ll handle her offer of a return visit after our hookup. She sways her ass for my benefit as she makes her way back to the bar. Lori had me mindless with just a few licks of her tongue, and I hope the waitress has some stellar skills to make up for the way my dick seems to be uninterested.
I say good night to the few of my friends who are still trying to work their moves on the girls they’ve found for tonight. Keith is drunk and at the table texting his fiancé, and for a minute I envy him. He seems genuinely happy. In a bar full of willing women, his attention is on his soon-to-be wife. He has never looked more content. I make my way back up to the bar, and the waitress latches onto me. I haven’t even caught her name, but I guess that’s just a detail I don’t give a shit about.
As soon as my hotel room door closes, she goes into action, undressing herself and me. I watch her as she tries to turn me on, willing my body into action. It isn’t usually an effort for me, but Lori got under my skin. The waitress kneels in front of me and I finally give up and close my eyes, imagining she’s Lori so I can release this need to feel her on my skin. When she finishes, I open my eyes, far from satisfied, and wait for her to say something. She tells me she has to go back down to the bar, but she’ll come up when her shift is done. I put my pants back on while she dresses.
I walk her to the door without saying a word and open it so she can step out. She turns around and looks at me with a smile I don’t return. I thank her and tell her that a return visit won’t be necessary.
“Asshole!” she yells, and I don’t say anything because she isn’t telling me something I don’t already know. Also, I don’t want to engage in anything that might keep her here longer. I look over her shoulder when I hear footsteps in the hallway behind us. It’s Lori, trying to sneak past us and into her room, which is a few doors down.
“Lori!” I yell, startling the waitress. The waitress storms off down the hall, and I flip the latch on the hotel-room door so that it won’t lock me out. I take off to catch up with Lori. My pants are not buttoned and I don’t have a shirt on, and I’m jogging down the hall barefoot, trying to reach the closing door of Lori’s room. In a total creeper move, I stick my foot in the doorway so the door won’t shut. She spins around when she hears the door make contact with my foot. I have completely blown any chance with her and for the first time in my life, I’m desperate to fix my mistake.
Lori
Awkward. I curse my sister and her puffy eyes for causing the chain of events that led to me awkwardly sharing a hallway with Ben and the trashy waitress. I just needed to get some ice, and instead I got an eyeful of Ben and the sleazy server from the bar. She sounded so pissed, and clearly he’d done something to cause her to call him an asshole. Still, all I could focus on was the way his broad chest tapered down into a toned V before slipping into his unbuttoned pants.
I toss the bucket of ice onto the table a little harder than necessary; my anger at myself has gotten the best of me. I thought he liked me—that I had experienced a spark with him that was unique to the two of us. Before my sister pulled me out of the bar to help Olivia, the ache that had developed in my body was more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before. I haven’t stopped thinking of Ben since.
I’ve been fantasizing about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t had to leave. The thought of going back to his room caused heat to flush my skin and need to grow inside me. I imagined him finding me and keeping his promise to have me soon. Now I know I was just an itch the waitress could scratch if I wasn’t available.
The sound of the door stopping before clicking closed causes me to whirl around in panic just in time to see Ben standing in the doorway. A sheen of sweat coats his chest, and I want so badly to feel his skin against mine. I’m pathetic. He clearly just screwed the waitress and here I am, desperately wishing it’d been me. Anger takes root in my stomach and I march over to the door with my shoulders back and my head held high.
“Move your fucking foot, Ben,” I whisper loudly, so my passed-out sister won’t wake up and begin round four of puking.
“Lori, it’s not what it looked like.”
I laugh at how absurd that sounds and raise my eyebrows in question.
“It doesn’t matter, Ben. Now, can you please move your foot so I can close the door?” I look down at his foot to reinforce my message.
“I need to explain. You had me wound so tight, Lori. I needed someone to help fix that problem. She was there. This is my life; I don’t have time for girlfriends or dating. I have a need, I get it taken care of.”
I wonder for a minute if he thought that would make it better. He was honest; I’ll give him that.
“Got it. Now move your foot.” I look past him when I hear voices approaching. Two drunk college kids make their way down the hallway behind Ben. When I realize I’m standing in the doorway in a pair of boy shorts and a tank top with no bra, I quickly cross my arms over my chest and whisper, “Please let me close the door, Ben. I’m almost naked here.”
“I noticed,” he says, his gaze starting at my bare feet and drifting up my body until his eyes meet mine. “I imagined she was you.” I’m confused at that comment, and he must read it on my face because he chuckles softly and then says it slower. “I imagined she was you. When she was on her knees, I closed my eyes and imagined she was you.” The heat rises up my flesh again and reddens my cheeks.
I decide to play a little, hoping it will distract him long enough for me to close the door. I uncross my arms and put my palm flat against his chest. His muscles jump beneath my hand and I know I have the same effect on him as he’s having on me. I slowly trace my hand down his chest and to the V where his tan skin dips into his unbuttoned pants. “Was it good?” I whisper in my sexiest voice. When I reach the waist of his pants, I bite my bottom lip and look into his eyes.
“What?” he whispers back, clearly too flustered by my touch to follow the conversation.
“Was it good, Ben? When she took you into her mouth and you imagined it was my warmth around you. Was it good?” I run my fingers along the waistband of his pants and watch as his eyes get heavy with need. When he doesn’t answer I allow my hand to wander lower and grip his length though his pants.
“Fuck,” he hisses and pushes his hips forward, pressing himself into my palm and shifting his foot so I can have more access. Both feet stand outside the door frame. It was too easy really, and I congratulate myself quickly when I slam the door, leaving him stand
ing in a lust haze.
“Night, Ben!” I yell through the door. I cover my mouth to trap the laugh that bubbles up when I hear him curse from the hallway.
Ben
I slam my hand down on the alarm clock as it blares next to my head. I’ve been tossing and turning all night. I couldn’t get the feel of her skin out of my head. The memory of the softness of her hand against my chest and the firm way she gripped me through my pants had me hard most of the night. I tried a long, cold shower, with no relief, and then prayed I’d fall asleep so I could finally give my brain a break from replaying every touch. Trying to push her out of my mind only made it worse, and in the dark hours of the morning, when my eyes finally gave in to sleep, I dreamed of us and all the things I’d planned to do with her.
After getting out of the bed, I make my way into the small bathroom to shave and get ready for the wedding. I’m trying really hard to distract myself from the knowledge that she’s just down the hall. Images of her, rumpled and warm from sleep, keep spilling into my imagination. I curse and blow out a breath in the mirror. I don’t do this. I don’t lust after girls I can’t have. It feels like I’m a teenager again, waking up ready and fighting my arousal all day.
Keith’s wedding starts in an hour, so I finish shaving and jump into the shower. After, I put on my tux and shove my wallet into my back pocket. I grab my phone and take a few minutes to answer the texts and emails from work that constantly light my phone up. I strap my watch on and realize that I have to be down in the lobby for pictures in ten minutes. I hate weddings, and I absolutely despise having to be a groomsman, but this is Keith, and I wouldn’t miss it. I step into the hallway, telling myself not to look in the direction of her room, but I can’t help it. I wonder if she’s still sleeping, and what she’d look like curled up in the white sheets with her beautiful hair fanned out across the pillow. What the fuck is happening to me? I clench my hands into fists and force myself to turn toward the elevators. I know I’ve completely lost my mind when I swear I can smell her scent in the elevator.
Exiting as quickly as I can, I cross the lobby and head straight for the small breakfast buffet to grab some coffee and clear my head. A few of the guys are already down and have set up a small table in the corner. I grab my coffee and take a seat next to John. He asks me how the waitress from last night was, and when I express my indifference by shrugging, I hear Evan bite out, “Fuck.” He pulls his wallet out and hands John what I estimate to be about a hundred bucks.
“Told you so, bud. Never lets us down.” John answers around the bite of bagel he has in his mouth.
I shake my head and laugh a little, and then take a big sip of coffee. When my eyes rise from my cup, I see her. Lori’s wearing a fluffy pink robe with something embroidered across the chest. Her hair is curled and falling over her shoulders into the deep V that exposes her cleavage. Seeing her steals the breath from my lungs, and I watch helplessly as she steps back into the elevator with other girls who are also wearing fluffy robes. As she turns to face the lobby, her eyes meet mine. I can’t help it; a smile curves my lips as I take her in, starting at her small feet with their brightly painted toes. Her legs are tan and toned and disappear provocatively under the short robe.
When my eyes reach her waist, I see she’s rested her hands on her hips in the move that endeared her to me last night, when she’d huffed at the bartender who was ignoring her. I shoot my eyes up to hers and she has her eyebrows quirked in a caught-you-looking face. I shrug and grin at her as the doors to the elevator slide closed, separating me from my chance to talk to her again.
“Holy shit, how did we miss that hot one in the front last night?” John asks from beside me, and I know immediately he’s talking about Lori. I want to tell him to shut his mouth, but I know I have no right, and that reaction from me would cause them all to think I’d lost my mind. To them, I’m the guy who hits it and quits it, moving on with my life in mere hours. I’m starting to wonder what the fuck happened to that Ben.
We’re soon ushered out to the courtyard to begin the agonizing task of taking pictures. I hate this part even more than the damn wedding ceremony itself. As the photographer arranges us, I wonder what Lori might’ve been wearing under that robe. I imagine her smooth skin and the way it would look under black lace. The photographer grabs my arm and moves me to the other side of the group, and I’m relieved she disrupted that line of thinking before it suddenly got very uncomfortable.
When we’re finished with the pictures, we break apart and make our way back to the lobby. When our party sees the girls from last night posing for their pictures around the waterfall near the pool, we come to a complete stop, and I nearly slam into the back of the guy in front of me. Lori’s in a very fitted red halter dress. The material clings to her amazing body and falls right below her butt. Not very wedding appropriate, but I appreciate it anyway. Her long legs end at what have to be three-inch red heels, and suddenly I can imagine them wrapped around me.
Lori is breathtaking in red. I thought she was hot last night in the little black number, but today, the way the red contrasts with her perfect skin makes me want to run my hands over every inch of her. I’m lost in that thought when someone shoves me from behind, and I realize we’re supposed to be getting into the wedding.
My mind is everywhere except on my friend and his vows. I hate all the traditions of weddings, the standing and sitting and long pauses with forced emotions. Who had the bright idea to light unity candles anyway? They never stay lit and it’s always a big production to get the families up to help light each one. I just want the ceremony to hurry up so I can go find Lori.
It would’ve been hard enough to make it through the wedding, but knowing she’s somewhere in this hotel has me completely distracted and ready to bail. I hang around for the necessary ceremonies and then make my way over to the open bar to take the edge off. There are a few good-looking girls here but my interest is somewhere else. I throw back a few strong cocktails then make my way to the back exit of the giant ballroom. I don’t think anyone will notice if I just slip out, and I absolutely can’t spend one more minute here, thinking about her.
Lori
Tugging at my hem for the millionth time tonight, I curse my sister for choosing these tiny dresses. Remembering back to the day we all stood in the dress shop, I smile as I think about how Mom had pointed out these dresses, telling my sister they were trashy. Of course, Mom telling Olivia anything only makes her want to piss Mom off. I don’t know when my mom will ever learn, but I hope it’s soon. Our near-ass-revealing dresses should be a huge hint that her mouth should remained closed whenever she’s around my oldest sister.
My feet are killing me in these heels, but they’re so gorgeous I can’t bring myself to take them off. I’m taking a short break from dancing to refill my drink. I couldn’t be more grateful for an open bar than I am right now, and I motion to the attentive bartender to hand me another drink so I can have two. I don’t want to have to stop dancing again to retrieve my second.
The buzz makes my muscles warm and pliant. After quickly downing one drink and ditching the glass at the bar so my busybody mother won’t feel the need to lecture me, I make my way back to the dance floor. I slowly sip my second while moving to the music. The DJ has been terrible, playing horrible songs and saying cheesy things into the microphone, but at least people are still out here trying to dance.
My mom was a little disappointed I didn’t bring a date to the wedding. She always wants everything to be picture perfect, but I know better than to bring a date to any family affairs. My mother would eat him alive, and I would spend the whole night trying to play interference so he didn’t feel the need to bail early. Just as my thoughts wander back to my mom, she makes an appearance right in front of me and shakes her head while prying the glass from my hands. Damn her, she treats me like I’m a child.
Rolling my eyes, I huff out a breath and put my hands on my hips in an effort to show her I need her to b
ack off and leave me alone. She never gets that message. “Way to kill my buzz, Mom.”
“Lori, you look trashy enough as it is in that horrible dress. I don’t need you flopping all around out here on this dance floor looking like a drunk floozy.” She turns her nose up at the idea and I laugh at her self-righteousness.
“Oh no!” I say sarcastically. “We couldn’t be having fun at a social event. What was I thinking?” I watch as the fire blazes behind her eyes. She won’t engage in battle with me here; too many people are watching.
“Lori, button it up. Can you ever take anything seriously?” I reach for my glass, but she pulls it back and I refuse to chase it around the room. I don’t need her shit. I take a moment to embarrass her further by publicly adjusting my dress, and then make my way out the main doors, slamming them loud enough for the other partygoers to hear. I smile at my small victory and turn back toward the lobby to make my way to the hotel bar.
Just as my head spins back to the front, I slam into something solid. I was feeling so proud of myself, but then suddenly I’m stumbling backward. Large hands grab my arms just before I end up on my bottom. Embarrassment and appreciation fight for dominance as I look up into Ben’s deep-blue eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble under my breath, before trying to pull off a small smile.
“Um, you’re welcome?” The sarcasm drips off his statement, and I can’t help but love the way his face twists into a mix of confusion and authority.
Letting Go Page 2