Love According to Science

by Kingsley, Claire

  She handed our IDs and credit cards back to us. “We do have you in adjoining rooms, but the door between them can remain locked.”

  Figured.

  “Here’s your room key, Mr. Nash.” She slid a key-card across the counter. “Room five sixteen. The elevators are just down that hallway. Fifth floor, then take a left.”

  I shifted awkwardly, wondering if I should wait and walk up to the room with Hazel, or go now since I had my key and I was checked in. My arm accidentally brushed hers and the unexpected contact was like a lightning strike.

  “Otters hold hands when they sleep,” I blurted out. “And sometimes they form otter rafts of up to a hundred individuals. Sleeping in the water provides protection from predators, but they hold onto each other so they don’t drift apart.”

  The attendant blinked at me, her brow furrowed with confusion.

  “I wonder how they learned to do that,” Hazel said. “At what point did an otter reach out to clasp a neighboring otter’s appendage and hold on? And how many instances of napping that way did it take before it began to spread through the larger otter population?”

  “And how much of it is instinct versus learned behavior?”

  Hazel tapped her lips. “Good question.”

  “You’re all set.” The attendant pushed another room key across the counter, still eying me like I was odd. “Room five eighteen. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you.” Hazel readjusted her luggage handle and glanced at me. “Shall we?”

  “Sure.”

  We walked to the elevators and rode in silence to the fifth floor. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Hazel smelled so good, I found myself shifting toward her. Breathing in deeply. I was practically sniffing her hair.

  She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t react. Her body was tense, her posture rigid. I darted a quick glance at her before the elevator doors opened. I could almost see the fluttering of her pulse in her neck—a subtle shiver of her delicate skin.

  Still no talking while we walked down the open-air hallway to our rooms. Adjoining rooms. Shared-wall rooms. We moved to our respective doors, lifting our key-cards to the locks, like we were in sync. The doors clicked and lights turned green.

  I turned the handle and pushed, opening the door an inch. Glanced at Hazel. She met my eyes but quickly looked away. Without a word she went into her room, letting the door fall closed behind her. So I went into mine.

  The room was standard for a hotel. Air conditioned, which was good because it was hot outside. Small bathroom. Thick curtains drawn closed, blocking out most of the light. There was a table with two chairs, a TV mounted on the wall, and two queen beds with crisp white linens flanked by tables with lamps.

  I glanced at the interior door that led to Hazel’s room. Hers was probably a mirror image of mine. Which meant she had two queen beds on the other side of that wall. I wasn’t sure how thick a hotel wall was, but not thick enough. She’d be sleeping right on the other side of that one.

  At least we were in separate rooms.

  I wheeled my suitcase next to the closet, took off my shoes, and flopped down on one of the beds. There wasn’t anything conference related until the keynote address tonight. That meant I had several hours to kill. I’d brought work, and things to read. There was a TV. I had my laptop and wifi. The internet was an ocean of potential distractions. Or I could go out and explore. Wander along the beach and clear my head.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was still lying on the bed, vaguely daydreaming about Hazel. Every little noise sucked at my attention, making me wonder what she was doing over there. She was probably the kind of person who unpacked. I could imagine her carefully hanging all those cardigans and button-up blouses she wore. Smoothing the fabric of her pencil skirts so they didn’t wrinkle.

  Was she bored? Reading a book? I didn’t hear a TV, but she might have had it on with the volume low. Would she take a shower before the keynote tonight? I’d probably hear the sound of the water running if she did.

  Oh god, Hazel in the shower.

  I’d been inside her, but hadn’t seen her naked. Except for her ass. And that peek of her pussy when I’d pushed her panties to the side.

  Grabbing a pillow, I smashed it against my face and groaned. Why was this so hard?

  Why was I so hard?

  I was lying here, torturing myself by thinking about her. Imagining her naked body in the shower. Or lying on the bed just on the other side of the wall. I didn’t know why she’d be naked on the bed, but in my mind she was.

  Was she thinking about me, too?

  Probably not. She’d seemed tense today, but that didn’t mean she was ready to smother herself with a pillow to end the agony.

  That was just me.

  Maybe I just needed to take care of this hard-on myself. Jerking off wasn’t going to keep me from reacting like an animal during mating season as soon as I saw her again. But it might help me calm the hell down so I could relax. I was tired—probably from getting up early to catch our flight. Maybe if I emptied the tanks, I’d be able to take a nap before dinner.

  The sad thing—or maybe the good thing, I wasn’t sure how to frame it—was that I wasn’t going to need any help. No porn necessary. I’d been getting off to nothing but fantasies of Hazel since I’d fucked her in the copy room. The entire incident was imprinted in my memory. I could bring it up like a movie, letting the whole thing play in my mind.

  The scientist in me wondered if I was making things worse for myself by continuing to fantasize about her.

  My dick, however, ached with unrelieved pressure. And that sensation was a lot louder than any logic my brain might try to throw at me.

  The only thought getting through to the front of my mind was worse.

  She’s right next door.

  But really, what was the worst thing that could happen if I went over there? She’d answer her door and tell me to leave? We’d get in an argument about something? Hell, we’d argued the whole time we’d been fucking in the copy room. That hadn’t seemed to matter.

  Fuck it.

  I got up, left my room, and went straight to hers. Lifted my hand to knock.

  The door opened before my fist could connect.

  Hazel held the door, her eyes widening. My first thought was to wonder where she was going.

  Until I saw her buttons.

  Those fucking buttons.

  Her shirt was partially open, the tops of her tits and part of a nude lace bra showing.

  My mouth turned up in a predatory grin. Fuck. Yes.

  She grabbed my shirt and hauled me inside.

  19

  Corban

  “Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite.” ~ Roberto Bolaño

  I didn’t wait for the door to shut behind me before grabbing Hazel’s shirt and ripping it the rest of the way open. Buttons flew in all directions, but I couldn’t have cared less. I had one objective. Getting this woman naked.

  Now.

  Without a word, I yanked the shirt down her shoulders, and she let it fall to the floor. I spun her around and hooked my finger beneath her bra, tugging on it to draw her closer to me. She gasped, backing up a step. I leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder, then let my teeth scrape along her skin until I reached her bra strap.

  “Corban.”

  I pushed her bra straps over the curves of her shoulders. “Yeah?”

  “This isn’t…”

  Reaching around, I slipped my hands into the now-loose fabric of her bra and cupped her tits. Her nipples were hard against my palms.

  “This isn’t what?”

  “Happening again. Not after this.”

  I squeezed her tits and she arched her back. “Just this once.”

  She nodded. “It’s only because—”

  “We’re out of town,” I finished for her between planting wet kisses along her neck. I let go and unclasped her bra. “That’s fine. Just take your fucking
panties off.”

  She finished undressing and set her glasses on the nightstand. I wasted no time tearing my clothes off and tossing them to the floor. Barely taking the time to appreciate her—she was a goddamn goddess—I shoved her onto the bed. For half a second, I thought about spreading her legs and climbing on top of her.

  But that would put us face to face. I didn’t know if I could handle that. It was too close. Too intimate.

  This wasn’t bending her over a table, but I hadn’t come over here to make love to her. And that wasn’t what she’d been about to come to my room for either.

  I got on the bed and flipped her over. With her chest still on the bed, I lifted her hips so her ass was in the air.

  This ass. It was perfect. Grabbing it with both hands I traced my thumbs up and down her slit. She was already glistening wet. Swollen and pink. She moaned into the sheets, arching her back harder.

  With my hands still cupping her ass cheeks, I pressed my hard length against her. Rubbed up and down a few times. She was slick and warm, her skin silky smooth.

  “Corban.”

  I slid my cock against her. “What do you need?”

  Her body shuddered. “I need you inside me.”

  Grabbing the shaft, I rubbed her slit with the tip. “You need this?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was a whimper.

  “I know, sweetheart. I need it too.”

  I thrust inside and groaned, my eyes rolling back. She surrounded me, pressing at me from all sides—hot and wet and everything a pussy should be.

  Only more.

  Being inside her didn’t just feel good. It was a fucking relief.

  I held her hips and drove in and out, my muscles flexing. Hard edges against her soft curves. Every thrust eased the ache that had been plaguing me since I’d had her the first time. I needed this. Needed it more than was good for me. But right now, I didn’t care.

  Pumping my hips hard, I drove deep. She gasped and moaned, clutching the sheets, her eyes closed.

  All that warm skin beckoned to me. I pulled out and yanked her legs straight, pushing her ass down onto the bed so she was flat on her stomach. Climbing on top of her, I slid my cock back inside, my hips against her ass. My body draped over hers, the contact electrifying.

  She propped herself up on her forearms and arched her back. The beast inside me roared to life. Growling into her ear, I slid my hand to her throat. She was pinned beneath me, totally in my control. I kissed and licked down her neck, still driving into her wetness, then bit her shoulder. Her whimper made my blood boil.

  I didn’t know who the hell I was. Not Corban Nash, awkward data genius. I was an animal. Operating on pure instinct. No distractions. No trains of thought headed in opposite directions. Just my cock in her exquisitely tight pussy. Her skin against mine, her scent everywhere. My hand on her throat and her body pinned beneath me. Her uninhibited moans of pleasure mixing with my rough grunts.

  We didn’t talk this time. Didn’t argue. I couldn’t have if I’d wanted to. She was too overwhelming. I rode the edge of climax, not ready for this to end, holding back just enough so I could keep fucking her.

  Plus, she was coming first.

  Making Hazel come the first time had felt like the ultimate win. No matter what we argued about or how often we picked at each other, I’d made her come apart. That had been me. I’d sent those pulsing tremors through her, brought her to the height of pleasure and felt her explode.

  And I was going to do it again.

  My awareness shifted slightly, away from the intense pressure in my groin and the superb feel of her slick walls hugging my cock. I felt the pulse in her throat beating against my hand. Her ass pressing into my hips as she arched her back. Her soft, needy whimpers filled my ears.

  Don’t worry, Hazel. I’ll give you what you need.

  I pulled out again and flipped her onto her back. Fucking her like this meant facing each other, but I let my instincts have their way. I got on my knees, and with my hands on the backs of her thighs, I pushed her legs open toward her shoulders.

  Her eyes rolled back when I thrust my cock inside. Leaning down, I put her legs over my shoulders and braced myself on top of her. Thrust again, harder.

  “Yes,” she whimpered.

  I drove my cock in and out, sinking deep inside, grunting like the beast only Hazel could turn me into. Her cries were louder, uninhibited. I pushed her legs higher, practically bending her in half, her knees at her shoulders. Her tits brushed my chest and oh fuck I was deep. So far inside her I was bottoming out, filling every bit of her.

  Our mouths collided in a furious kiss. Tongues tangling, teeth biting lips. I fucked her harder. Faster. Driving her up the bed.

  “Don’t stop.” Her tongue slid across mine and she nipped at my lip. “Don’t fucking stop.”

  A curse word coming out of Hazel’s mouth was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. This wasn’t the straight-spined, buttoned-up scientist I sparred with at work. This woman was a sex goddess.

  “You want me to fuck you all day, sweetheart, I’ll fuck you all day.”

  “I hate that you’re so good at this.”

  But her eyes closed and her lips curled in a smile.

  I made her smile.

  My cock was making her smile.

  God, I loved that.

  I gave her what she wanted—what she needed—pumping my hard length into her. Thrusting as deep as I could go, grinding against her clit.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  Her pussy was hot, clenching around me. She was close. I could feel her climbing to the brink, ready to explode. I was right there with her, teetering on the edge, my balls drawing up tight. The pressure so intense it filled my entire body.

  Our gazes met. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her cheeks flushed. Her lips parted, her eyelashes fluttered, and she moaned, the sound reverberating through my chest.

  “That’s it.” Thrust. “Come for me.” Thrust. “Fucking come for me.”

  Another deep drive of my cock and her pussy spasmed, squeezing tight. I was so deep, I felt every inch of her inner muscles clenching around me.

  It made me lose my damn mind.

  My muscles tightened, my back stiffened, and I went off like a bomb. My cock throbbed as I spilled hot bursts of come inside her. I thrust hard, still sinking deep, over and over. Groaning and growling, I bit her again, then sucked on her neck while I came.

  I was unrestrained and untamed. Taking what I wanted. Indulging my primal instinct to claim her. Mark her. It was sweet relief and pulsing agony all at once.

  Reality rushed back, like air filling the space in a vacuum. I had Hazel bent in half on the bed, her feet over my shoulders. My breathing was ragged, a sheen of sweat on my forehead and chest. Her eyes were half-open, her hair a tangled mess, and she was breathing as hard as I was.

  Holy shit. What had just happened?

  I untangled myself from her, a fleeting thought about her impressive flexibility darting through my mind. But the sudden loss of contact made me feel empty, a jarring contrast after coming so hard.

  My vision swam and I realized I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I located them on the floor—no clue how they’d gotten there—and got off the bed to retrieve them.

  By the time I turned back to Hazel, she’d put her glasses back on. She was still naked on the bed, her hair a mess, her eyes darting around like she wasn’t sure what to do next.

  I wasn’t sure what to do next either.

  Part of me wanted to get in bed with her, wrap her in my arms, and fall asleep holding her against me.

  But I knew she didn’t want that.

  She didn’t want me. Not really. This primal attraction was purely physical. We’d tried to get along and it hadn’t worked. Our hormones and brain chemicals simply hadn’t caught up yet.

  I picked up my clothes and quickly hauled my boxers and pants on. Her warm body in that bed called to me, tugging at something in my chest. I cast a quick
glance at her, out of the corner of my eye. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding the sheet up over her chest.

  “I’ll see you at the keynote?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  I fastened my pants, wondering if I should ask her to have dinner. We both needed to eat. Neither of us knew anyone else here. It made sense to have dinner together.

  Except, she’d just said she’d see me at the keynote. That was after dinner.

  It was just sex. She didn’t want anything else from me.

  Of course she didn’t. She didn’t even like me.

  I pulled on my shirt. She was still on the edge of the bed, the sheet clutched in her fist, like she was waiting for me to leave so she could get up and put her clothes back on.

  “Corban—”

  “I know.” I cut her off, not wanting to hear what I knew she was going to say. “It won’t happen again.”

  She flinched and I didn’t understand the flash of pain in her eyes. She’d already said it wasn’t happening again. I was only agreeing with her.

  My legs felt oddly heavy. I just wanted to lie down. Maybe I should have said something else, but I didn’t know what to say. If I tried, chances were I’d make things worse, not better. Or a random fact about animal behavior would pop into my head—my brain served those up at the worst times—and I’d blurt it out.

  I was so fucking awkward.

  Raking my hand through my hair, I turned to go. “See you later.”

  She didn’t answer.

  So I didn’t stay.

  20

  Hazel

  “Math is like love—a simple idea, but it can get complicated.” ~ Anonymous

  Corban was avoiding me.

  No, it was more definitive than that. Avoidance could have involved a lack of eye contact or a reluctance to engage in conversation. It could have meant sitting on the other side of the room at the keynote address last night. Perhaps slipping out before circumstance had an opportunity to push us together.