Page 17 of One Taste
Shit!
Reacting quick, I dive for it and flick the silence button on the side before it wakes Brooks. The one thing I don’t want to do is the whole morning of shame dance. I amnotdoing that. No fucking way will he be awake when I take my walk of shame. I’ll do that alone—with my head held high, my red lipstick looking pristine, and my red stilettos kicking dust on the New York City sidewalks. I will not look like a two-dollar hooker leaving a swanky hotel room at five in the morning.
Checking my now silenced phone, I see the dozens of missed calls and texts from Brielle, including the one that just almost woke up Brooks. They start off talking about getting myself laid and then end with a please text me so I know you’re alive.
I feel guilty for not thinking to tell her I wouldn’t be coming home, but in all honesty, with a man like Brooks in bed with her, she would have forgotten too. I shoot off a text letting her know I’m not being held captive in the trunk of an Uber and very much alive.
Slipping out of bed ever so quietly, I sift through the scattered articles of clothing, ignoring the soreness between my legs, and locate mine. Most of my things are intact, except for my lace panties, which seem to have been torn in half.Fuck, Brooks.I loved those panties.I grab them, shove them in the pile of my belongings, and pick up my small Louie bag from the table near the door.
Tiptoeing across the carpeted floor, I spot the bathroom and move swiftly without making a sound.
I will not fucking wake him up.
Once inside, I don’t bother closing the door because thatwillwake him up. As much as I want to turn the bathroom light on, that’s not an option because that will also wake him.Fuck it.That’s why they built flashlights into cell phones.
Five minutes later, I’m dressed except for my high heels, wanting to avoid unnecessary noise. I lay my phone facedown on the bathroom countertop, letting the light illuminate me in the mirror.It’s not much, but it will do for now.I toss my hair in a messy bun and grab my lipstick from my bag, reapplying it the best I can.
With my heels in one hand and my bag in the other, I tiptoe back across the room and head for the door.Time to get the hell out of here.
My fingers grip the doorknob, and the flashback of Brooks slamming me into the door as he kissed my lips only a few hours ago makes the butterflies flutter harder than before.
I can’t just leave.It feels wrong not to say something. The man was great in bed and thoughtful and considerate. I should at least say goodbye.
Scanning the room, I notice a pen and small notepad on the entryway table next to me. I place my bag and shoes on the floor quietly and tear off a piece of paper.
Thanks for last night. It was great. Had to catch the train. Xoxo.
Simple, sweet, and to the point. Now, where the hell am I going to put it, so he sees it when he wakes up? There’s no tape in here, and the only way he will see it before he leaves is if I stick it to the door.
A small grin sneaks over my lips as I come up with the perfect idea. I rattle around in my bag, finding a small container of gum.This will do.I pop a piece into my mouth, chew it a few times, and stick it to the back of the note.
Picking up my bag and heels, I pin it to the door and slip out, careful not to make too much noise.
As my bare feet hit the hallway, I feel as if I can breathe again.
Goodbye, Brooks.
Sebastian
The ringing of my phonewakes me from a dead but peaceful sleep. Instead of answering it, I slap the decline button.
Fuck, who the hell is calling right now?
Forcing my eyes open, I slam them shut again.Hell no.It’s too fucking bright. I only had one drink at the hotel bar, and a few at the club before I left, yet I feel like I drank like a fish.
My eyes open one at a time,and my vision evens itself out before taking the plunge to sit up in bed.
I take in my surroundings; it hits me like a ton of bricks.
The bar.
The woman.
The presidential suite.
The elevator.
The fucking.
