by Cassie Cross
When he looks up, I catch his gaze, and we look at each other for a very long time. Butterflies circle my stomach, flapping their wings against my insides, and I feel like it might kill me to look away from him. It’s been forever since someone has made me feel this way, and I want to keep feeling it. I’m trying to figure out a way to ask him upstairs to my room without sounding like I’m asking him upstairs to my room. I’m such a failure at casual sex.
Thankfully the bartender interrupts my frenzied thoughts when he walks over and asks if we’d like another round.
“No,” I reply softly, still looking at Nate. His face falls with disappointment for just a split second before understanding lights his eyes.
He holds up has hand and shakes his head. The bartender walks away.
“Callie, I never do this, but-”
“I have a room,” I say, interrupting him to keep him from finishing that sentence. Because ‘I never do this’ is the kind of thing that people who typically do this a lot tend to say. And I’m okay with that, really. But I don’t want to hear it.
“Okay.” Nate flashes a smile as he stands up and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. Then, he slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and leads me out of the bar.
We make our way through the crowded terminal to the hotel, looking at each other every few steps and grinning like a couple of fools.
The elevator can’t come quickly enough.
I fumble with the key card in the lock, a mixture of nerves and excitement making my hands shake. As if Nate wants to see just how much of an effect he has on me, he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against him until I can feel every inch of his chest against my back. It takes me three tries to even get the damn card in the slot, and the longer it takes me, the more my hands shake.
“If you don’t get this door unlocked, I’m going to break it down,” he says, his voice a low rumble despite his teasing words. I take a deep breath to smooth over my jitters. “Let me help you,” he says, gentle now as his lips brush across the shell of my ear. He doesn’t seem to be nearly as nervous as I am, if he’s even nervous at all. He unlocks the door with a sure, steady hand.
Once we’re in the room, Nate tosses his bag to the side and pushes the door shut with his heel. Then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me like he can’t get enough, like he’s been waiting to do this his whole life. Our mouths melt together in long, slow kisses and then urgent, faster, needier ones. He brings my arms up and over his shoulders, clasping my hands together behind his neck.
“Hold onto me,” he says. And I do.
Nate kisses me again, and all I can think about is the way he tastes, the way he feels. He slides his hands down the small of my back, down the backs of my thighs, and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, anchoring myself to him, not caring about what’s going to happen next as long as he keeps kissing me like he’s never going to stop. He gently lowers me onto the bed, then pulls off my shoes, grinning at me as he playfully tosses them across the room. I help him by unbuttoning my jeans, then he tugs on the cuffs, sliding the denim down my thighs as I take off my shirt.
I lie back and enjoy the view as Nate pulls his shirt over his head and then unzips his pants. They fall to the floor, revealing a pair of boxers with yellow smiley faces all over them. I can’t help but grin when I see them, and I trace the hem that hangs over his right thigh with my big toe.
“Are these your sexy shorts?” I ask.
He seems confused for a second, then catches on to what I’m asking after he looks down at what he’s wearing.
“Hey,” he replies, pretending to be offended. “I’ve gotten lots of compliments on these.”
I don’t even want to think about just how many compliments he’s gotten on these boxers, so luckily he distracts me by sliding them down his hips. And my eyes are glued to him. His body is insane. Sturdy. Muscular. Perfect.
“C’mere,” I say, crooking my finger at him, trying to be seductive and sexy and failing miserably. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t seem to care.
Nate kneels over me on the bed, leaning down and kissing me before he reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra. He kisses my breasts, licking slow, torturous circles around my nipples that make my toes curl. My hands are everywhere, slipping across his broad shoulders and tight muscles, and I can’t kiss him enough. His skin is salty and sweet. I love the little sounds that he makes when I press my lips here, touch him there, and gently slide my palm along the length of his erection. He sighs, resting his head in the crook of my neck.
“Do you like that?” I ask, wanting to be sure that I make this good for him.
“Yeah,” he replies with a breathy laugh that warms my breast, and then his mouth finds its place on my skin. I continue sliding my hand up and down, and he bucks his hips against me as we kiss. When his breathing speeds up and his kisses become a little unfocused, he pulls away and kisses a trail down my stomach to the insides of my thighs. And then, oh. Oh.
“Oh my god,” I sigh, and Nate lets out a little hum of a laugh that vibrates against me and makes my eyelids flutter shut. He works magic with his tongue and fingers as I sink back into the mattress and let myself drift. I drift and drift. Sometimes my eyes are closed and sometimes I look down at him while he’s looking up at me and I have this crazy desire to run my fingers through his short hair. To scratch his scalp with my fingernails, because I think he’d like it.
So I do. And he likes it. And I like what he’s doing to me so much that it isn’t long until he makes me come in a warm, lapping wave that reaches out from my belly, cresting against my fingertips and toes.
Nate is obviously pleased with himself as I pull him up for a kiss, but it doesn’t last as long as I’d like because his lips leave mine when he sits up and reaches for his jeans at the foot of the bed. He pulls a condom out of his back pocket, and I’m so glad he wants to be safe. It would be too easy for me to be stupid with him.
He kneels in front of me, my legs on either side of his as he looks down, his eyes locked with mine. I can’t read his expression, can’t tell exactly what he wants me to do next. And it’s killing me, because whatever he wants me to do, I want to do it. One of his hands lightly traces the outside of my calf and the other cups my foot, lifting it until it rests on his shoulder. He turns his head and plants a sweet, gentle kiss on the inside of my ankle.
“You are so beautiful,” he says, his voice very soft and very deep at the same time. I’m lying naked in front of him, so he knows this is a sure thing. He doesn’t need to flatter me, but still…I’m flattered. What am I supposed to say? You’re handsome? I’d like to lick every square inch of your body?
He doesn’t wait for me to figure it out, he just leans down and kisses me as he hooks his arms under mine. I reach up and touch his face, wondering why all of this feels so tender when it isn’t supposed to mean anything at all. Nate presses his forehead against mine as he slowly pushes into me. He sighs and runs his fingers through my hair, and somehow it feels like we’ve been together like this before. He knows every spot to touch that makes me gasp, every stretch of skin to slide his tongue across that opens me up to him. He brings me to the edge of pleasure and pulls me back, again and again, until my whole body is humming and desperate. When I finally fall, I bury my face in his neck. He follows soon after, peppering my face with kisses.
After, we lie there in bed, clinging to each other. Until a kiss turns into more kisses and a touch turns into a thousand more. Until he’s inside me again and my body is wrapped around his and our names fall from each other’s lips. We follow the same pattern all night, over and over again, until we finally drift off to sleep.
I wake up just before dawn, wrapped in Nate’s arms. I’ve never been so comfortable and so scared in my entire life. I don’t want to walk out of this room and never see him again, but more than that I don’t want him to become another Ethan. I’m scared he’ll break what’s left of my heart, and I’ll get so hard
ened against men that I won’t be able to have another night like this again.
No, it’s better for me to leave things as they are and let this night become a memory.
I get dressed quietly and gather my things, ignoring the nagging ache I feel as I slip out the door.
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“You look so hot in that dress. I just want to put my mouth all over you.”
The voice comes from behind me, and is too close to my ear for its owner to be talking to anyone but me. I steady myself for the reveal, because I know that when I turn around to let this guy off easy, I’m going to be looking into the face of a disgusting, smarmy barfly who thinks that’s the kind of compliment that’s going to get me to go home with him.
No “Hello, nice to meet you.” No “Let me buy you a drink.” He just goes straight for the kill, which I suppose is a blessing. At least I know what he wants from me right away.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat in the middle of the not-so-crowded hotel bar, and turn to face the man who just spoke to me. He reeks of booze, even though happy hour is still in its infancy. He’s disheveled and greasy, and he’s looking at me like I’m some kind of dessert. My gaze drifts over his shoulder, looking around to see if I notice anyone suspicious. He could be some kind of a decoy to distract me, for all I know.
I don’t get any bad vibes from anyone in the room, apart from this guy, and there’s no way I’m giving him the time of day. That’s bad news for him, because I’m probably the most desperate woman he’ll find in this bar tonight. Hell, I might just be the most desperate woman in the city. I’m on the run from a dangerous man who probably wants me dead. I’m low on cash, and scared I’ll run out before I figure a way out of the mess I’ve managed to get myself into, and I don’t know where I’ll be staying after tomorrow night.
Despite all that, even I’m not desperate enough to go home with this guy, even if it will buy me a few hours of oblivion and a little bit of safety.
With the toe of my shoe, I shift my bag beneath my barstool, making sure it’s still there. I’ve got one of its straps wrapped around my ankle, so I’ll know if anyone tries to take it. I’m hyper-vigilant about theft of my belongings anyway, but everything I managed to pack before I hastily left my apartment in Chicago is in this bag.
It’s all I’ve got for now, so I’ve got to keep a close eye on it. If I lose it, I might as well turn myself over to the man who is looking for me. His name is Andre Privya, and it’s not a question of if he’ll find me, it’s when. I’m just hoping that I’ll be able to come up with a way to get myself out of his crosshairs before that inevitable moment comes.
“Did you hear what I said?” Douchebag asks.
I left Chicago three days ago under the cloak of night, and I’ve been here in Manhattan ever since. In that time, I think my fight-or-flight response has served me well. This guy doesn’t exactly scream “hitman” to me, but I know I should steer clear of him if only because he seems like a gross, terrible person.
“I did,” I reply, stirring my drink. I’ve got to keep a close eye on that, and make sure he doesn’t slip me something. He seems like the type who would. “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”
Douchebag looks annoyed, like I expected he would, but he isn’t willing to back down just yet. “Let me buy you a drink and see if I can change your mind.”
I look him right in the eyes and say, “No.”
He’s got this smirk on his stupid, smarmy face, and I know he thinks that I’m playing hard to get. He thinks this is game, and he’s sure he’s going to win. “Bartender,” he says, raising his hand.
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want a drink.”
“C’mon, just-”
“She said no.” A hand claps down hard on Douchebag’s shoulder, right before he is whirled around to face what has to be one of the handsomest men I’ve ever seen in my life. Handsome and full of righteous anger, which I’m finding incredibly attractive, I’m not ashamed to admit. “Do you understand what ‘no’ means?”
Douchebag nods shakily. “Y-yes.”
“Then why are you still standing here?”
Just like that, Douchebag hightails it out of the bar, and into the hotel’s lobby.
“Is everything okay?” This gorgeous man is looking at me with such concern in his soulful green eyes, and I can’t seem to find my voice.
All I can do is nod slowly, taking in the view before me. He is really, incredibly tall. And from the looks of it, he’s broad and muscular, but unfortunately his well-tailored suit is hiding a lot of the aforementioned muscles, just giving me the slightest hint of what is waiting below in the way it hugs his body. He has a head full of light brown hair with a few highlights mixed in, like he has just spent some time out in the sun. His eyes are friendly, and way too easy to get lost in.
I shouldn’t be getting lost in anyone’s eyes right now; it could be dangerous. Strangely, though, I don’t feel like I’m in danger with him.
“Yes,” I finally manage to say. “I’m fine. Thank you for that.”
He smiles, and that smile is too easy to get lost in, as well. Why did this stupidly beautiful man have to show up here, now, when I absolutely cannot afford to let myself get swept off of my feet? Why couldn’t I have met someone like him in Chicago? If I hadn’t left town, if I hadn’t done such an idiotic, dangerous thing…
“You have nothing to thank me for,” he replies. “I hate that we live in a world where my ‘no’ carries more weight than yours does.”
Oh, he’s good. It’s a little difficult to get a read on him, but I don’t think he’s feeding me a line here. I want to believe him, that much is true.
“I’m going to grab a drink. Can I get you anything?”
“No,” I reply, tapping my glass. “I’m good, thank you.”
“Would you like some company, or-”
“Yes,” I reply without even a moment’s hesitation. “I’d love some company.” He’s handsome and friendly, and I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry, just in case the guy who was just hitting on me decides to come back. I’d also like to be in this man’s presence for a little while longer, strange as that seems. I’m just not ready for him to leave yet.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Mia.” Immediately I wonder if I should’ve given him a fake name. That probably would’ve been the smart thing to do, but it’s too late now.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia,” he says, offering me his hand. I reach out and take it, feeling a little thrill shoot through me when we touch. “I’m Caleb.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me, his hand lingering in mine until he absolutely has to pull away.
My stomach swoops as he walks away, and I’m in trouble, I know it. It’s not the kind of trouble I’ve been running away from for the past three days, though; it’s the kind of trouble that makes me want to run toward it, full speed, even though I know it’s probably a terrible idea.
While Caleb walks over to the other side of the bar, he watches me out of the corner of his eye. I’m not sure if he’s doing it because he thinks I’m going to get up and walk away, or because he wants to make sure the guy who was hitting on me doesn’t return. Either way, I feel comforted in a way that I haven’t since I figured out that Privya and his goons were onto me, and I needed to get out of Chicago as soon as possible.
Caleb glances my way from the bar, and he smiles at me. It’s not the sweet, helpful smile that he gave me earlier, when he was dispatching the douchebag. No, this smile has heat behind it; it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end with anticipation. This smile makes me want him. Badly.
Despite my body’s apparent desire to get completely swept up by this man’s charms and looks, my mind keeps replaying this niggling thought that this could be some kind of trap. Maybe I’m not as on top of Privya and his whereabouts as I think I am. My computer skills are
stellar—which is how I got myself into this mess in the first place—but there’s the slightest chance that I’m wrong about where he is. I’ve been planting false trails around Chicago to fool him into thinking that I haven’t left town. What if he’s doing the same?
I’m reasonably sure that Privya wouldn’t go so far as to have one of his men hit on me in a bar. If he has enough intel on me to know I’m staying in this hotel, then he’d just show up at my door and kidnap me or something. Men like him don’t have much finesse, they just see their objective and take aim. Besides, any professional criminal would never leave me alone, giving me the chance to escape, while he went to the bar to get himself some scotch.
No, this is just a handsome man with a good streak in him. I shouldn’t look into it any more than that.
I catch Caleb’s eye while he’s in the middle of a conversation with the bartender that I can tell he desperately wants to get out of. I attempt a seductive slide off of my barstool, if such a thing is even possible, then reach down and grab my bag. Caleb’s face brightens when he sees me heading his way, and I can feel him watching me. It’s not the look of a man who is after me for things that I’ve done, it’s the look of a man who wants to do things to me. Filthy, wonderful things. The look is…it’s too much. It sends a jolt of anticipatory panic through my veins, and like a coward, I take a detour and head left.
Right into the ladies’ room.
There isn’t anyone in here, thankfully, and I take a second to stare at my reflection in the mirror. With chocolate brown hair, hazel eyes, and my head held high, no one would take me for a coward. No one would take me for a criminal, either, though I’m definitely one of those now. Even though I stole from a terrible person for noble reasons, I’m still a thief, aren’t I?
An impulsive, cowardly thief.
I have a man who is looking at me like he wants to devour me, and I walk into the bathroom? How I’ve ever managed to get laid is beyond me.
I want to go back to the bar and talk to Caleb. I want to see where this thing between us goes. I need this. I need the stress relief. I want it, too. I want to lose myself in the arms of a handsome stranger, even if it is just for one night.