Page 25 of Bad Habit
He chuckled and cupped my chin. “You are the most beautiful, surprising woman I have ever met.”
“I am?”Then why won’t you kiss me again?I felt wild, wanton, and more alive than I’d ever thought possible. Was he worried he’d go too far? Take me against my will?
He wouldn’t. Mac was a gentleman, kind and considerate, and I knew he respected me. He’d never take things too far.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said as he draped his arm over my shoulders. “Time for the next stop on our date.”
I pressed my head against his chest as he guided me back to our table, and it was hard to part from him when he pulled out my chair.
Once we were sitting, he gestured for the waiter. I took a long drink of water, feeling as if I hadn’t had any all day.
The waiter came quickly. “Anything else for you two?”
“Just the bill,” Mac answered.
“Very good, sir. Should I charge that to your room?”
“Sure. 905,” Mac said, and as the waiter walked away, the meaning of that short exchange sank in.
“You have aroomhere?” I fought to catch my breath. “In thehotel? Fortonight?”
He squirmed on his chair. “I had to—”
“I thought you understood.” Tears rose at the back of my eyes, but I fought them down. “What did you think tonight was? Who did you thinkIwas?”
“Faith…” He reached across the table.
I shot to my feet. “Thank you for the evening. I’ll see myself home. Good night.”
* * *
Mac
“Faith, wait.” I bounded out of my chair and grabbed her wrist. My raging boner hadn’t calmed down one bit from that dance floor make-out session, and I felt like everyone in the room could see the evidence. Except maybe her, which was a relief. If she noticed, things would get even worse.
“I’m not going to…” She shook her head violently. “I’m not going to fornicate with you!”
“I know,” I said softly, hoping it would encourage her to lower her voice. Her word choice had turned a few heads. “That’s not why I booked a room.”
She frowned, clearly not buying it.
“This place.” I gestured around the tiki bar. “It doesn’t take reservations unless you’re a hotel guest. I didn’t want to wait for a table or be disappointed. I wanted a reservation—for that table.” I pointed back to where the waiter was holding our bill, clearly ready to chase us down if I dined and dashed.
“Is that true?” Her voice was wispy, like her.
“Ask the waiter.”
She nodded, her chin bobbing one sharp time, then she twisted her wrist from my hand and walked back to our table, leaning against it as if she might otherwise fall.
Her ass looked so perfect under that pale blue velvet, the softest fabric sliding over a smoking-hot body that I’d never have another chance to touch. Never have a chance to explore.
“Do you take reservations?” Faith asked the waiter.
“Only for hotel guests, or large groups.” The waiter told her.
I tossed a few hundred dollar bills in the folder he’d set on our table, regretting I’d agreed to the room charge.
“Faith?” I held out my hand, praying she’d take it.
