by Amy Sparling
“Oh, I see how it is,” he says playfully. “You don’t think I’m cool enough for the tenth floor?”
I shrug, like I’m actually thinking it over. “I haven’t seen any evidence of your coolness yet.”
I love joking around with him like this. It makes me feel alive. Like someone who has adventures instead of a constant string of boring days. The doors slide open on the tenth floor, and I step out slowly, the motion of the elevator making me feel a little dizzy.
There are two directions you can go, and my room is to the left. I wonder if Gabe’s room is down here too, or if it’s to the right. He walks next to me though, stopping when I stop at my door.
“This is me,” I say.
“Drink some water and take some aspirin,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on a wonderful day of business panels tomorrow.”
I smile up at him. “Good advice.”
“Goodnight,” he says. He starts to walk away.
Just like that.
Like a gentleman.
Here I was thinking maybe he’d be some kind of jerk who wanted to talk me into sex or something. But he didn’t. He saw me safely back to my room and then told me goodnight.
Oh man, I am all about a guy with manners.
“Gabe?” I call out.
He turns back to me. “Alexa.”
“Can you come here for a second?” I ask, my voice a little higher than usual.
As he walks back, I slide my key into the door and push it open.
“What’s up?” he says.
“This.” I throw my arms around him and pull him in for a kiss.
For a terrifying second, I worry he’ll shove me away, tell me he has a girlfriend or that he’s not interested in me. But as my heart thunders in my chest, Gabe kisses me back. His strong arms wrap around my waist and hold me closely to him. I inch backward until we’re in my hotel room and then I kick the door closed.
I am not ready for bedtime just yet.
Chapter 7
Whoa. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about kissing her. If the idea of taking her back to my hotel room and kissing that little trail of freckles down her neck didn’t cross my mind as we talked over dinner. I just didn’t think it would happen. I didn’t expect it, and I didn’t want to even ask for it. My mom raised me right, as she would say. I respect women.
But this woman just pulled me into her hotel room. And I will respect the hell out of that.
My hotel room smells just like a regular hotel—clean but not quite like home. Alexa’s room smells like vanilla, a heavenly scent that transcends my senses. I breathe it all in as she kisses me, her soft pink lips pressing against mine in a somewhat frenzied make out session. I don’t push her to do anything more than what she’s offering me. She kicks the hotel room door closed behind us, and then walks backward, her arms still around my neck, our lips still pressed together, until her legs hit the bed. I pull back a bit and look her in the eyes. We’re both a little drunk, but I’m still in possession of my mind. Is she?
Her eyes are dark chocolate brown, a perfect match to her silky hair as it runs through my fingers. “Is this okay?” I ask, my voice soft in the darkened room.
She nods eagerly. “It’s way more than okay.”
She leans in to kiss me, and I run my hands down her back, over her perfect round ass. It feels exactly as good as I had imagined it would, but I keep moving, sliding my hands down to her thighs. Then I pick her up, pulling her legs around my waist as I lower her back onto the bed.
She giggles between kisses, her hands tightly wrapped around my neck. With my body on top of her, I fulfill my fantasy of kissing that little freckle on her neck. There’s another one above her collar bone and I trail kisses down to it, reveling in the way she squirms underneath me. I run my hand up her side, cupping her breast as I nuzzle against her neck. I kiss her earlobe and she sighs, her breath ragged.
“You are ridiculously beautiful,” I whisper as our bodies press against each other.
She opens her eyes and gives me the hottest look ever as her lips twist into a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she says.
I can taste the alcohol on her lips, and as we make out, it starts to bother me. She might be too drunk for this. The last thing I want to do is get her caught up in something she’ll regret. This is a one night stand after all. It’s not like we’ll see each other again.
I pull back a little and lean on my elbow, letting my eyes drift over the beautiful curves of her body. My hand slides down her thigh and back up, and her eyes close. As much as I’m turned on right now, it occurs to me that this would be a one night stand for me, too. I’ve never done anything like this. I’m more of a committed relationship kind of guy. And honestly, I feel like this isn’t me. I shouldn’t be doing this, letting myself get caught up in moment with a gorgeous girl I’ll never see again.
But my dick, of course, says differently. It wants me to continue. Despite my better judgement, I want to continue.
“Why’d you stop?” Alexa says in a little whimpery voice that turns me on. Her eyes are open now and she’s giving me a puppy frown. She takes my hand and pulls it back on top of her breast.
“Are you sure you want to keep going?” I ask. I need her to allow this because I know I don’t want to stop.
Her eyes meet mine and she is so damn sexy it sends a shiver down my whole body. “Yes, I’m sure,” she says.
She reaches up and unbuttons my shirt, pulling quickly but accurately as she undoes each one. I figure if she was too drunk to make decisions, she wouldn’t be so precise with my buttons. I guess if she won’t regret the night, then I won’t, either.
When my shirt is undone, she slides it back and I lift up, pulling it off my arms and tossing it to the floor.
She lays back, eyes wide. “Damn,” she breathes. “You’re like, super hot.”
I resist the urge to flex and show off, but her candid comment sure gets my blood flowing. I work out every single day after work, and I’m glad my efforts are appreciated. I was a scrawny loser as a teenager, and I’m glad I’ve made myself into something better as a man.
We’re lying next to each other now, and Alexa sits up on her elbow and slides her fingers down my chest. Then, without breaking eye contact, she throws her leg over me and straddles my stomach. The only way she could be any hotter is if she were naked.
I slip my hands under her shirt and slide it up slowly. She takes my lead and pulls off her shirt, tossing it playfully over my face.
“Hmm,” I say. “It’s like a blindfold but it smells good. I’m down.”
She laughs and pulls the shirt off my face. “Oh hush. I’m not good at this.”
“At what?” I say playfully. I grab her hips and rock her body against mine. She’s wearing a black bra and has the softest skin ever. I want the bra gone. I want all of our clothes gone so that I can feel her skin against mine.
She leans forward, her bra pressing against my chest. “At … this stuff,” she says, kissing me. “I’m not very good at being sexy.”
“Baby you don’t even have to try,” I breathe. I let my hands roam up her back and then I unlatch her bra. “You are sexy as hell just doing nothing.”
She rolls her eyes, but she lifts up and lets me pull off the bra, then she lays back down on top of me, and I was right. Her boobs feel amazing against my chest. She is soft and delicate, and everything I didn’t know I needed. Suddenly this is not just a one night stand. I need it to be more than that.
I take her face in my hands and pull her lips to mine, taking my time with the kiss. It’s slow and sensual as I slide my tongue across her lips. She parts them, and her tongue finds mine. A ripple of pleasure rolls through me and I grab her hips, digging them against mine.
She rocks against me, letting out a soft moan as our bodies grind together. But there’s still too much clothing between us. I grab her boobs and flick my thumbs over her nipples while she kisses me. Her breath hitches. I b
reak away from the kiss and slide my tongue over her nipple. She freezes.
“Gabe?”
I lower my head back to the pillow. My heart is pounding and my body is aching for hers. “Yeah?”
She bites her lip, and her eyebrows pull together. “I … I don’t—”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just … I don’t know if I want to do this.”
She looks absolutely horrified, so I smile to lighten the mood. “Alexa, it’s fine. We don’t have to do anything.”
She rolls off me and lays on her side. “Are you sure? I feel so bad.”
“Don’t,” I say, sitting up. A certain piece of my anatomy is crying out in distress, but I ignore it. “I am not entitled to anything you don’t want to give.”
She tilts her head, still looking full of sorrow. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”
I grab my shirt from the bed and pull it over her bare chest. “I’m totally sure, Alexa.”
“Wow,” she says, clutching my shirt over her chest. “You’re an amazing guy. Like, wow. A total gentleman.”
I chuckle. “If I’m being honest, I would respect you no matter what. But I really like you, so this is good. This is great, actually.”
She smiles at me for a long time. “You want to watch Netflix?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Alexa slips her shirt back and on I put mine on too. She gets her laptop and places it on the bed, and we sit up against a mountain of pillows and watch The Office. I’m thrilled to learn that it’s one of her favorite shows because I’ve seen it a million times.
Part of me feels like I should be disappointed that I didn’t have sex tonight, but the other part of me is just so happy to be here in this moment with her. She’s so amazing, and beautiful, and fun to be around. I don’t ever want this night to end. Halfway through the fifth episode, her laptop shuts off.
“Oh damn,” she says, getting up. “I need the charger.”
She digs through her suitcase and then her purse, and then she turns to me with a frown. “I can’t believe this. I totally forgot my charger!”
“We could watch regular TV,” I suggest.
She shakes her head. “Yeah, but I need my computer for my panels tomorrow. I’m such an idiot.”
I look at her laptop. “I have the same one, and I brought my charger. Let’s go.”
We walk down the hall to my hotel room and I find my own charger and plug it in for her.
“You are a lifesaver,” she says.
“I know, I know,” I say playfully. “I’m a regular Superman.”
She bites her lip as if she’s trying to hold back a smile, but it doesn’t work for very long. “Hey, Gabe?” she says.
“Hey, Alexa?” I say back.
Her cheeks flush. “Do you think we could make out again?”
Shit, now I’m probably blushing. And men aren’t supposed to blush. “Um, hell yes.”
“But … just make out?” she asks shyly. “Like, only that?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say. My heart speeds up at the idea of touching her again. Of having her lips on mine, her sweet taste and girlish smell. I need her more than I need oxygen right now.
She gives me this sultry look as she slowly walks toward me. I hold my breath in anticipation as she approaches. Her hands slide up my chest and I wrap my arms around her. I tip my head and kiss her. I’m going for a soft romantic kiss, but she wants more. Her fingers slide into my hair and pull me close to her. Her mouth parts and she kisses me like we were doing just moments before we stopped.
“Hey,” she breathes. “Will you pick me up and put me on the bed again? I liked that.”
I grin. “As you wish.”
I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I make my way to my bed. I set her down softly on the pillow and then resume kissing her as if my life depended on it.
Of course I want more, but I’m happy to just have this piece of her that she’s willing to give. Soon, we forget all about her laptop charging, about the TV, or episodes of The Office, and it’s just me and her in this room, on this bed, exploring each other’s bodies with our clothes still on.
We make out until our lips are swollen, and her cheek is faintly pink from the scruff of my beard. At some point she falls asleep, and I lay here watching her for a few minutes. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And if tonight is all I’ll have with her, I’ll cherish it for as long as I can.
Chapter 8
I wake up in a weird room. My sleep-addled brain knows it’s not my bedroom at home, and after a few startled seconds, I remember that I’m at the Hilton in Phoenix, Arizona. Then, it all comes back to me.
I’m not in my hotel room.
I’m in Gabe’s.
I freeze, the sheets pulled up to my chin as I face the nightstand on my side of the bed. Is he still here? Is he sleeping next to me? Carefully, I roll onto my back to get a peek, but the bed is squeaky. If he is asleep next to me, I don’t want to wake him up, so I move slowly. After what feels like forever, I can turn my head enough to look. He’s here. Asleep.
Luckily, he’s facing the opposite wall, so if he opens his eyes now he won’t see me, but he breathes softly, his eyes closed.
Holy shit, Alexa. I can’t believe I did this. I slept in a stranger’s hotel room! This is so not like me! If I were playing a game and had to guess the craziest thing I’d ever do at a convention, this would be the last thing I’d think of.
I roll onto my back and try to slow down my rapid breathing. I have a slight headache, which is probably from the alcohol last night. Luckily, Gabe and I had plenty of water to drink afterward, so I’m not hungover. Gabe sleeps soundly next to me while I lay here and relive last night. All of the memories come back to me, and I’m both horrified at my behavior, and a little turned on just thinking about making out with him. He’s a really good kisser. And he’s sweet.
And he stopped when I asked him to.
I mean, seriously. What kind of guy actually does that? Most of them will beg and plead and try to talk you into sex even if you don’t want it.
I sigh, blissfully recalling the events of last night. As far as one night stands go, it was pretty awesome.
I lie here a bit, wishing I wasn’t still wearing my clothes from yesterday so I could fully enjoy the softness of these fancy hotel sheets. I would laugh if I didn’t need to be quiet. I did the sluttiest thing I’ve ever done, and yet I’m still wearing my pinstripe slacks and fancy business shirt from yesterday. I bet these old pants never knew they’d end up here after spending years in the back of my closet.
A few minutes pass, and I realize I don’t really know what to do.
First of all, I have to pee. This kind of thing is never addressed in the movies when girls sleep over at a guy’s place. I check the time, and it’s just before seven in the morning. The sunlight is streaming in through the window, but it’s still early. Maybe I can sneak out of here. If I go to pee now, in this small hotel room, he’ll surely hear me and wake up. Then what?
Will he want to talk? Will he be upset that I’m still here? How does a girl normally handle a situation like this?
A sinking feeling settles into my stomach. What if this is Gabe’s M.O.? What if he’s the hot business guy who travels around and hooks up with girls he meets in every city?
Ugh. That slight excitement I felt when thinking about our make out session last night is gone. Burst like a too-big bubble. I’m not special. I’m not Gabe’s soulmate. I’m just some random hook up.
What was I thinking?
My urge to pee is getting worse, and I’m not about to talk to him once he wakes up. I refuse to be the girl who likes a guy that only wants her for one thing.
Picking up my shoes, and what’s left of my dignity, I sneakily crawl out of the bed, grateful that the mattress isn’t too squeaky. I grab my laptop from his charger, and tuck it under my arm, then I very carefully make my way
to the hotel door.
With a deep breath, I twist the doorknob and open the door soundlessly. I slip outside, looking in both directions first just to make sure no one is witnessing my walk of shame. The hallway is empty, and I pull the door closed quietly behind me.
Then I’m free.
I rush back to my hotel room and close and lock the door behind me. Once I’m back in here alone with my thoughts and shame, I pee and then jump in the shower.
I feel gross. It’s been a whole day since the last time I showered. When I put on that outfit yesterday, I was trying to look like a professional business woman. Not some floozy who hooks up with guys in hotel bars. I’m glad the outfit is now crumpled up in a pile on the floor. I am not the savvy businesswoman who should be wearing it. I’m just a pathetic girl who lost herself the moment a guy showed her attention.
I was so into it, too. I’m the one who pulled him into my hotel room. I’m the one who kissed him first. I mean, who does that?
You know how you know a guy doesn’t really care about you? When he doesn’t make the first move.
I should have known from the start that Gabe was just a hookup. And maybe I did know that, back when I had three glasses of alcohol in my system. But now that I’m sober and it’s a new day, I feel awful. I’m not a hookup type of girl. I never have been. I used to go on several dates with a guy before I’d even allow myself to kiss him.
I use the little bar of hotel soap to scrub my body clean, wishing I could suds up some across my brain to clean it of my memories. I wash my hair and then when the bathroom is all steamy, I finally get out.
My first panel starts in thirty minutes, but I’m in no rush to go back to the convention today. I put on a pair of pajamas—the ones I had brought specifically for last night but didn’t get to use—and sit on the bed while I brush out my long hair. I watch TV and try not to think about how big of a loser I am. I think about calling Livi, but my phone is dead, so I put it on the charger.
I should just stay in the safety of my hotel room longer. I can’t really go downstairs to the convention until my phone is charged. I mean, I could, but I don’t want to. That thing is my lifeline. At least that’s what I tell myself when I decide I’m not quite ready to go downstairs yet.