Page 15 of With a Broken Wing
I leaned against the door to my room, waiting for the shower to turn off. When it did, it only took a few moments for Andy to open the door. She stood there wrapped in the small, white hotel towel. Why are hotel towels always so small? It barely covered her curves, and when she saw me standing across from her, a deep flush covered her nearly bare chest. I raised an eyebrow at her.
“How was your shower?”
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and narrowed her eyes, definitely wondering how much I’d heard.I heard it all. “It was fine, thanks.” Even as she spoke, she didn’t make a move to step into her room or cover herself more.
I resisted the urge to let a knowing smile pull at my lips, keeping a straight face but holding her gaze. “Just fine?”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. “Just fine.”
“That’s too bad.” I lifted an eyebrow and tilted my head to the side. “Are you hungry? I think I’ll order some dinner.”
“Not really, thank you. I’m just going to hit the hay.” She forced a dramatic yawn, fidgeting with her grasp on the towel.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” As if suddenly remembering she was standing in nothing but a towel, she wrapped her arm tighter around herself and rushed to her room. “Good night,” she said, opening the door.
“Good night.” I watched her take the first step into her room. “Oh, and Andy? The next time you moan my name like that, it won’t bejust fine.”
The gasp that slipped from her tempted me to follow her into her room and slam the door behind us. Instead, I turned and walked back into the seating area, pouring a drink from the open bottle of cheaper-than-I-liked bourbon. As I took a sip of the liquor, I thought about the food I’d told her I was going to order. A liquid dinner would suffice.
My stomach churnedwhen I rolled over to turn off my alarm. At first, I assumed it was hunger, but remembering the encounter with Demetri the night before made it sour.
The next time you moan my name like that, it won’t be just fine.
The next time? I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed he’d heard me or anticipate what he meant by the next time.
I pictured the look on his face and the way his already dark eyes had gotten darker when I opened the bathroom door. He moved his eyes from my face down my body and back, and the way his lips twitched when he stared sent a rush of wet heat to my center.
When I stepped out of the small room, I was wearing a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, feeling the self-conscious need to cover myself, as if he hadn’t seen almost all of me less than twelve hours earlier. Demetri sat in the armchair, a cup of coffee in his right hand and his phone in his left. He scrolled lazily. Was he reading the news or on social media? Did he have any social media accounts? Not likely, but I considered looking later.
“Good morning,” I said, using the customer service voice I always hid behind. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to see my nerves or embarrassment behind the cheer.
“Morning.” He didn’t look up from his phone when he said it, and when he brought his mug to his lips and took a long sip, I followed the movement with my eyes. “Breakfast is on the counter.”
I looked at the small counter that had a sink and a single-cup coffee maker. There sat a plate of pastries and fruit. Next to the plate was a second empty mug. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee. I don’t really eat breakfast…”
He grunted and sat his cup on the coffee table, clicking the button on the side of his phone to turn off the screen. “You do today. You didn’t eat dinner. So eat.”
Walking over to the counter and hitting start on the machine for a cup of coffee, I debated if I’d be able to get away without eating, but when I looked back to see him watching me with his hands clasped in his lap, it was clear that wouldn’t be the case. I picked up an apple from the plate, holding it up to show him.
I grabbed my cup of coffee from the counter and walked over to the couch adjacent to his armchair. Demetri continued to watch me closely, like he was waiting to make sure I took the first bite. The texture of the apple in my mouth was unwelcome at 7:30 a.m., but I made eye contact with him and ate. When I finished, I tossed the rest into the trash can and licked the juice from my fingers.
“Happy?”
He narrowed his eyes, and a quiet noise that sounded like a groan came from his throat. Cocking his head, he stood up and grabbed a glass. He filled it with water, grabbed a pastry from the tray, and made his way back to me. “You need more than an apple, and you need water.”
With a surprising lack of hesitation, I took the glass from him, bringing it to my lips. As soon as the water hit my tongue, I realized how badly I needed it. He was right. It was gone in a couple of gulps, and Demetri looked pleased with himself.
He held the croissant in front of my face. “Open,” he said.
I shook my head, but I still opened my mouth and leaned forward. With a quiet groan, he placed the pastry against my lips and nodded as an instruction for me to take a bite. I bit down, chewing slowly and taking the rest of the flaky roll from him.
“Good, Andy. You’ll eat breakfast every morning, preferably something with more protein, but this is what we had to work with.” His voice was controlled and low when he spoke, and I nodded.
Goose bumps rose on my arms and chest.Good, Andy. I shivered, unable to figure out why the two words caused such a physical reaction. He could’ve told me to do anything at that moment, and I’d probably have done it.
I swallowed, searching for a response and landing on a meek, “Okay.”
