Page 62 of Play With Me

Griff then has the audacity to send a gif of a woman spitting out water in shock. I tsk and toss my phone on the bed, grumbling. He’s never in his life sent me a gif. So it’s true, I’m king grump.

I decide I can’t lie around here—I’ll never fall asleep knowing Nora’s right next door, pissed off or upset with me or whatever she is. Instead, I grab a key card from the table and head downstairs.

I spend the next fifteen minutes wandering the hotel, but not really seeing anything. It’s a waste, because I love Christmassy stuff as much as Nora, and intellectually, I know the place looks incredible. There are gorgeous lounges covered with holly, and Christmas music pumps from invisible speakers throughout the main floor. Up close, the Christmas tree in the lobby rivals the size of the one in Rockefeller Plaza, and the scent of delicious food and din of voices spills from the open doors of the restaurant and bar as I pass.

I want to be exploring this place with Nora. Hell, I want to be doing anything with her. I could stare at a wall with her and I’d have a better time than I’m having right now.

But that’s out of the question. I consider going to the bar and getting a whiskey, but even that doesn’t interest me.

I realize, suddenly, what I need: to jerk off.

That’s what my problem is. I can’t relax with all that pent-up sexual energy from the train.

I feel relieved just to have a plan, crude as it is. I head back upstairs, practically jogging. Never have I been so cheery about heading to my room to fuck my hand.

I scan the card and step into my room, already pulling off my sweater as I stride through the little hallway at the entrance.

Except that’s when I heard the running water, followed by a soft moan. Like a moth to a fucking flame, I pop the neck of my sweater back down to free up my view.

Nora’s in the bath—the open bath, directly in front of me. Only, she isn’tinthe bath. She’s sitting on the edge, her feet in the tub, her pale, naked body slick with water and bubbles. Her long braids are wet, sticking to her skin, and as I stand there dumbfounded, she arches her back, her bare tits pointing out.

Her eyes are closed, which is why she hasn’t seen me.

Move. I need to move.

But I can’t. I’m frozen as her hand slides down her stomach. Her other hand, I see now, is holding a retractable showerhead, and it’s aimed directly between her legs, the spray flying everywhere like the hottest fucking fountain I’ve ever seen.

Exceptshe’sthe hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Jesus Christ,” I say, before I can stop myself.

Nora screams, her eyes popping open. She drops the showerhead in the tub. That was the only sound in the room, and it was loud. Now, it’s dead silent. Nora’s dropped down after it, hiding all the way behind the wall of the tub, her eyes wide.

Heat rushes to my groin. That image of her—it’s superimposed on my brain for the rest of my life. I know it.

“You’re in my room.” It’s all I could think to say.

“No, I’m not! This is my room!” I can’t see her, only hear the wobble in her voice.

I look up, panic beating a drum in my chest. Fuck. She’s right.

“The key cards…” I say.

Nora’s hand goes to her lips. She must have handed me the wrong one.

And I was so preoccupied I didn’t even think about which door I was going into.

“I’m sorry, Nora.”

Except…I haven’t moved. And Nora hasn’t asked me to, either.

“Nora,” I say, my tongue moving like it has no business doing. My dick too, because I shouldn’t be standing here with it already rock hard, painful as it presses against my zipper.

She sits up, her eyes on me. Except she’s not wearing her glasses, so she’s a little unfocused. Maybe that’s a good thing. She sits up high enough that the tops of her breasts are floating on the water, suds shining on their surface. I want to walk over there and dip my hands in the water, to run my thumbs along her collarbone and palms across her nipples.

But I can’t do that. We can’t, and I definitely can’t. I made a promise to myself, years ago, and I can’t break it. Can I?

“Show me.”

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