Page 4 of One Room Vacancy
“Hm?” I ask, turning my head to face him.
“I’m sorry…for always doing this. I promise we’re over, if that means anything. It’s been over for a long time; I just refused to face it.”
“It’s okay. I’m not going to be the person to start claiming I have the healthiest of coping mechanisms either. Gotta handle it how you handle it, ya know?”
He nods in understanding before turning back around to walk away.
“Wait.” My voice echoes through the lobby, and I’m surprised at how quickly it leaves my lips. I know this isn’t a good idea. I’ve been in this situation too many times before, despite his assurance that things are over between him and Kara. But when his gaze meets mine with a puzzled look on his face, I can’t help but smile. I motion toward the elevator, silently urging him to join me.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod with a smile. “I’m sure.”
ONE
GABE
My fingertips trail slowly up the inside of her thigh, tracing the soft curve of her leg. She sucks in a quiet breath, and the sound alone sends heat rushing through me. It’s been too long since I’ve touched her—too long since this thing between us felt real enough to hold onto.
We’re tangled on the couch in her hotel room, which happens to be a mirror image of mine down the hall. Her legs are draped across mine, bare skin flush against satin, and the late summer heat clings to us in the air between kisses. She smells like her favorite perfume and just a hint of sweat, and fuck if that isn’t the most dangerous combination in the world.
Every time she gasps, every time her lips part for me, I want to memorize the sound. Because this? This might be one of the rare times I get to pretend she’s mine.
She leans in just enough to make my pulse skip, and I meet her halfway, catching her mouth in a kiss that tastes like want and regret, all wrapped into one. It burns through me, hungry and reckless.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
We never should be doing this.
But it’s Sage—and that’s all it ever takes to make me forget tomorrow exists.
This woman.
She’s chaos and gravity, and I’ve never figured out how to escape her pull. Since the day I met her on that stupid golf course two years ago, she’s been under my skin, in my head, haunting every quiet moment. I’ve spent years trying not to want her—failing every single time.
I need her. God, I need her.
But I don’t get to keep her—not really. Not for long. With every ounce of determination, I pry my lips away from hers and trail a line of kisses down her neck. The intoxicating flavor of her skin sets me aflame, igniting an all-consuming frenzy within me. Every touch, every taste, sends shivers down my spine as I eagerly explore every inch of her exposed skin.
“Gabe,” Sage gasps, pulling my attention to her kiss-swollen lips, her smudged lipstick from this evening a stark contrast to the otherwise poised woman I know. She doesn’t need to tell me what she needs, but that doesn’t make the words any less sweet as they roll off her tongue. “Touch me.”
With a hunger that matches the intensity in Sage’s eyes, I lean in closer, my breath mingling with hers. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, and I revel in it. Without a word, I trace my fingertips further up her thigh as my lips graze down her neck, feeling the electricity of her skin with every touch.
Sage lets out a soft sigh, closing her eyes as she surrenders to the sensation. My fingers dance over the hem of her panties, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I need her, and only a tiny slip of fabric separates me from exactly what I crave.
As I slowly slide my finger under the lace of her panties, I can feel the warmth of her skin against my fingertips, and I shiver at the anticipation. Sage’s eyes flutter open, and she looks atme with a mixture of fear and excitement that only adds to the intensity between us.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, wanting to make sure we’re both on the same page. We’ve been here before, and it didn’t end well. But the desire in her eyes speaks louder than any words could ever say. She nods, her lips parted slightly as she watches my every move.
I breathe her in through the fabric, touch her for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s like flipping a switch—suddenly, every nerve in my body is alive, burning up with the way she arches into my hand, gasping just under her breath.
“Gabe,” she whispers.
And just as I slide that teasing strip of lace to the side?—
Ice. Cold. Water.
