Page 163 of Surprisingly Us

Those words pierce my heart. Further evidence of how I feel about her. And what she thinks of me. A man for the job of taking her virginity but with nothing special to offer.

I thought things had changed in Lake George. The things we’d confessed. The way we’d been there for each other. I thought we could be more, but it’s clear this is all she wants from me.

I should walk away right now. Leave her here and be done with this arrangement. Maybe then I could sleep without thinking of her. I know that won’t be the case. Blissful or torturous, she’s now a permanent fixture in my dreams.

My gaze lifts to the sign over the door. The Moxy Hotel. I glance to the street. It’s stand-still traffic caused by the storm. With the rain still coming down hard, and no potential for a ride anytime soon, I grab Lettie’s hand and pull her inside.

The lobby of the hotel greets us, the cool air making our drenched bodies shiver.

“A room, please,” I tell the man working the front desk.

He perks up from what appears to be an uneventful evening. “We can offer you a standard king room with a city view.”

“That’s fine.” I toss my black card on the desk.

Through the check-in process, Lettie stands next to me quiet and shivering. I’m waiting for her to call this off. To tell me she’s changed her mind. I’m relying on it at this point.

We get our room key and take the elevator to our floor.

A few minutes later, the door clicks shut on room 715 and still no objection.

I set my wallet and the keycard on the table by the door. Peel my drenched jacket off and place it on a hanger in the closet. It’s dripping, already soaking a spot on the carpet below.

I watch as Lettie slips off her shoes, neatly tucking them against the wall at the entryway to the bedroom.

Like the check-in clerk said, it’s a standard king room with a small sitting area, nothing special or luxurious.

I recall Lettie’s words on the street.It doesn’t have to be special.

That’s what she said, but that doesn’t sit well with me.

She deserves for it to be so fucking special.

“I want you to be my first.”

First. That indicates there will be others. My jaw tightens at the thought of Lettie with other men. My reaction to seeing her with Sebastian all those weeks ago, is nothing compared to the sour churn of my stomach now.

She’s already given up the notion that her first time needs to be special. If I don’t do this with her, she’ll eventually find someone else. Selfishly, I want Lettie to stay in this place. Untouched by anyone but me. The thought that she’ll move on when our time is up is eating at me. It’s starting to chip away at the walls I’ve built around myself.

Lettie walks into the bathroom, her wet dress clinging to every inch of her body. As she moves, I take in her toned back, her perfect ass, and muscular legs. Lettie’s body is perfection, not just because she’s sculpted like a dancer, but how she carries herself, graceful and with purpose.

She turns to find me staring. Those blue eyes of hers have me treading carefully. They’re like an undertow, and if I’m not vigilant, I’ll be drowning in them.

I watch as her hands drop to the hem and starts peeling the material upward. A moment later, the wet dress drops with a thwack onto the tile floor. Underneath, her soaked light pink thong and bra are see-through. Every inch of her is on display. Her rosy nipples, the dark strip of hair between her thighs that I’ve claimed as mine.

If I fuck her, then she’s mine. I’ll have touched every inch of her body. I’ll have every piece of her.

That’s not the truth. I’ll have claimed everything except what I desperately want.

Lettie reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, then hooks her thumbs in her panties and steps out of them. She tosses them into the pile of wet clothes. Her hands are by her side, her middle finger pads grazing the pads of her thumbs with nervous elegance.

The sight of Lettie standing there, naked and waiting for me is a sight to behold. She’s fucking perfect. I’ve touched her, felt her come on my tongue, the tight squeeze of her around my fingers, but this is different. With someone else I could turn off my body, go numb and barely feel anything, but that’s going to be impossible with Lettie. I’m not even touching her and I already feel too much.

“Rhys?” She’s five feet in front of me, but her voice sounds miles away.

I don’t realize I’m bracing myself in the doorway. My hands too numb to notice what should be the sharp sting of my fingers gripping the wooden frame.

I hear the words echo off the bathroom walls before I realize I’ve said them.

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