Page 4 of The Best Bad Decision

“That’s the funny thing about hair,” she begins, jabbing a finger at the button for the twenty-second floor. She misses it twice before the button finally illuminates, and she squeezes her trembling fingers into two fists by her sides. Twenty-second floor.Shit. My room is on that floor. If I remember correctly from my last layover in this hotel, these elevators are slow as fuck. This is gonna be a long ride—and not the good kind.

“You can change it whenever you fancy,” she finishes. What was she saying? I zoned out during her response. My brain is hammering a thousand thoughts a second into my consciousness, screaming at me toget some sleep, but all I want to do right now is wrap my hands around her hips and pull her body towards me. I close my eyes and shake my head, willing my brain to get in gear and give me something useful.

“I don’t—didn’t think I’d see—why—what are you doing here?”

Well, it was better than the first attempt.

She sighs, pushing out the heavy breath from puffed-out cheeks.

“Trust me.” Her tone is sharp and unfamiliar. “I really don’t want to be here right now. In fact, I’d rather be anywhere fucking else. But, I got called off standby, so here I am.”

That throws me. We didn’t spend long together, but it was enough to learn that this is her favourite city in the world. Or maybe I don’t know as much as I thought. The elevator pings—finally—and the doors slide open. In her haste to put distance between us, she launches herself through the open doors towards the hallway outside. Her sudden movement has her off-balance and body-checking my luggage with her hip. I reach out instinctively and steady her with a hand on her elbow as she rights herself. Heat rushes through my body as my hands meet her warm skin, but she pulls back as though my touch burns. That stings more than any rejection ever could.

I grab the handle of my suitcase and tip it backwards onto its wheels, pulling it into the hallway as the doors close again. She hesitates, foot raised to take a step, then turns to me.

We speak at the same time.

“It was good to see you,” I say honestly.

“Listen, can we—can we talk?”

I glance down at my watch, trying to hold back the smile threatening to split my face in two.She wants to talk to me.We only had one night, but she used every minute of it to burrow beyond my skin and all theway into my bones. I’ve missed her with an unimaginable ache ever since. The more I look at her as she stands, eyeing me warily with one hip cocked and a gentle pout on those beautiful, pink lips, the more I want to see her.

I blink. I think a full second goes by before my eyes open again. If I don’t sleep soon, I’m probably going to fall on my face, figuratively and literally.

“Let me get a couple hours sleep.” I offer. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at noon?”

She glances at her watch and then nods, her anxious eyes darting around the hallway and landing anywhere but on me. “I’ll see you then,” she agrees.

A choir of angels sing a hallelujah chorus. At least, that’s what you’d think, considering the obnoxious way my stomach swoops and my heart rate kicks up. It starts racing in my chest like a herd of cattle and I’m sure she must be able to hear it a foot and a half away. I haven’t seen this woman for nearly four years and I haven’t stopped thinking about her for just as long.

How in the world am I supposed to take a nap now?

It turns out, it doesn’t matter how hard your trouser-brain is trying to make your life—or your dick. If you’re tired enough, you can sleep. I barely manage to get into bed before I crash, waking up only when my alarm blares a couple of hours later. I hadn’t even closed the curtains before I fell into bed. Now, the mid-morning sun is blinding, shining high and bright through the window.

I squint against the light as I drag my weary body into the shower, giving myself a quick scrub and brushing my teeth before rifling through my suitcase for some clothes. I’m not sure why I’m so indecisive when it comes to selecting an outfit. I’m hardly a fashionista, and I highly doubt Amie is meeting me with any preconceived notions of what I’ll be wearing. Eventually, I settle for a pair of charcoal chinos and a sage green button-down, rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. I load my pockets with my phone, room key, and wallet, fasten my watch around my wrist, and head out the door.

Amie has changed since I bumped into her earlier. Her light-wash jeans hug her hips but are baggy on her legs, paired with a loose-fitting tank top. Three delicate, gold chains hang at different lengths around her neck, the longest one dipping into her cleavage and just out of sight. Into the spot I’d like to explore with my tongue. There’s a small mouse—or maybe it’s a rat—tattooed on her left collarbone. I find myself staring at it. I didn’t see it earlier and it definitely wasn’t there that night four years ago. I devoured her entire body then. I would’ve seen it. Trouser-brain wants me to lick it, claim it as my own. I suck in a deep breath as I approach her.

I’m dumbstruck as she stands in front of me with an awkward smile and wave. She’s the only woman who has crossed my mind in almost four years. I haven’t so much as looked at anyone else. She’s the only one I’ve thought of in cold, empty beds at night. The only one I’ve thought of in the shower with scalding water beating down on my shoulders and the memory of worshipping her on my knees beneath the spray, playing like a movie behind my eyes.

Whatever it is she wants to talk about, I can’t let her go. Not again.

four

Amie

For fuck’s sake.

My body knew it was him before my brain did—the traitorous bitch that she is. The rich timbre of his voice sent an entire swarm of butterflies storming right down through my belly, just like they did the last time I saw him. My brain responded instinctively, speaking before my body could set the alarm bells ringing. In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have said a word. I could’ve let him leave first and not even had to look at him. But what good would silence have done, anyway? Staying silent is what got me into this position in the first place. But I had to go and turn around and see his face.

His damn face.

Still as fucking beautiful as it ever was.

Still with the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, the bedroom eyes, the rough stubble I can still feel between my thighs when—

For fuck’s sake, Amie.

---