Page 10 of Unpredictable
Then there was the online dating service. I’d only gone on a few dates, and it had been enough to realize I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t kissed any of the men I’d met, let alone slept with someone. If I was honest with myself, the idea of sleeping with another man terrified me. But the idea of sleeping with this man—this stranger—stirred something within me. Made me feel more alive than I had in a long time.
So, emboldened by the alcohol and the mischievous look in his eye, I channeled my inner Lauren. She was bold, brazen, and never hesitated to ask for what she wanted—especially when it came to sex.
I leaned forward, getting a whiff of his scent. He smelled earthy, like the embers of a dying fire. I was reminded of bonfires and good memories, and warmth spread through my limbs. It told me this was the right thing to do, not that my body needed any reassurance.
“Okay, Zen guru,” I said, enjoying his bemused grin. “Show me your ways.”
He leaned closer too, as if drawn to me. “Zen guru, huh? And how do you propose I do that?”
I just needed one night. One night to forget. One night to heal. One night to lose myself in a man’s touch.
I released my plea into the air. “Help me forget. Help me let go.”
He regarded me a moment, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I’d love to give you the escape you crave. But I also don’t want to be something you regret come tomorrow.”
My stomach plummeted, and I turned away to hide my embarrassment. For the first time in two years, I’d put myself out there, I’d attempted to hit on a man, and…it had completely backfired. I’d thought we had a connection, an attraction, but I must have been wrong. My cheeks flamed, and I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
“Well, that was…completely mortifying.” I stood and slung my purse over my shoulder before throwing a few bills on the counter. Thank god I’d already given the bartender my room number so he could add the drinks to my bill. “Have a good evening.”
I nearly tripped over myself as I tried to get out of there as quickly as possible.He’s probably right, I thought as I sped across the lobby. Tears pricked my eyes, and I tried desperately not to cry as I waited for the elevator to arrive. I jabbed the button a few extra times, wishing it would come faster. How could I have so completely misread the signals? My shoulders slumped. Though it seemed like a fitting end to a shitty day.
I heard someone call, “Wait,” as the doors finally, mercifully, opened.
I slipped inside, pressing the button for my floor while keeping my head down.
“Wait.” He darted through the doors just before they closed. I looked up, realizing it was the man from the bar. And he was talking to me. My limbs tingled in anticipation.
The elevator doors closed, sealing us off from the rest of the world. It was just him and me, and he looked like he wanted to devour me. His eyes were dark, hooded. His fists clenched. He was breathing hard, and he appeared to be waging some internal battle.
“I don’t normally do this,” he said, closing the distance between us. “But… Well, fuck it.”
He took me in his arms, and I gripped his shoulders as if bracing for the impact I knew was coming. He crashed his lips against mine, and I crumbled. He tasted like mint and bad decisions, and he kissed like he’d known me forever.
His tongue brushed against the seam of my lips, and I opened for him. Kissing him was like a homecoming and the beginning of a new adventure. It was comforting yet exhilarating. Familiar while still surprising.
I gave in to the kiss, gave in to him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. He felt so solid, so warm, and my body roared to life. It had been so long since I’d kissed a man, touched a man, and I’d forgotten how amazing it felt. I’d been so trapped in my grief, my anger, my pain that I’d forgotten what pleasure felt like.
His hands were everywhere, and I was desperate for his lips, his touch. My body hummed with anticipation, especially when his erection dug into me. I needed him.
“More,” I whispered between kisses. “Need. More.”
He groaned, backing me against the wall, our centers pressed together. Right there in the middle of the elevator, I let him squeeze my breasts and palm my ass, and I ground against him shamelessly.
What am I doing?
This so wasn’t me—inviting a man back to my hotel room. Having a one-night stand. I knew nothing about this man other than the fact that I wanted him. I’d never felt more reckless or free, and I liked it, craved it even. This stranger made it difficult to think of anything and anyone else when he was touching me like he was.
Distantly, I registered the chime of the elevator, but I ignored it. He held out a hand to stop the doors from closing, disconnecting from my lips in the process. He grabbed my hand and tugged me into the hall.
“Which one is your room?” His hair was mussed, his smile disarming.
“I’m in 2302,” I said, grabbing the key from my purse.
We couldn’t keep our hands off each other as I led him toward my room. I batted his hands away when we passed an older couple, and I giggled as soon as we reached the door to my room. I was anxious and excited and a whole ball of emotions I didn’t want to dissect, couldn’t delve into without risk of chickening out. But overriding all of it was need. Ineededthis. I needed an escape, a release. I needed change.
I slipped the key into the slot, then stepped into the room and kicked off my shoes. As soon as the door closed, his lips were on mine, his hands on my body. And I was just as eager, just as needy. As I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, he backed me farther into the room. He yanked off his shirt, casting it aside without his lips ever leaving mine.
Next to go was his undershirt, and I marveled at the tanned muscles of his chest. He was so beautiful, the light casting shadows on his chest and abs. I traced the divots and curves, admiring the work that surely went into such magnificence.
