Chapter Eight
Nick
I know I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on Jess’s conversation at the check-in desk, but honestly, I’m glad I did. Like I’m going to let her sleep in the lobby of a hotel when I have a perfectly good room upstairs.
“Absolutely not.” Like she is going to let this be an easy decision. “There is no way in hell I’m sharing a room with you.”
I hoist her bag over my shoulder and grab my suitcase with the other hand. “Jessica, for once in your life can you not argue with me and just go with it?” I turn toward the elevator, marching across the lobby, knowing she’ll follow me since I have all of her stuff.
“Geez, Nick, not even your heroes are as bullheaded and stubborn as you are, and they’re supposed to be misogynistic.”
I stop in my tracks, spinning around to face her. “Excuse me, but neither I nor my heroes are misogynistic. We’re strong yet sensitive men. I’m just trying to keep you from having to sleep in the hotel lobby.”
“What you’re doing is railroading me and not giving me a say in what happens in my own fucking life!” She seems surprised by the force of her words, her eyes widening as they land.
But they have their desired effect, cutting deeper than she probably intended, more layers of truth under them than she even knows. I drop a mask over my face so she can’t see how much her words hurt. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I hand her back her bag. “I have a room reserved here for the rest of the week. You are more than welcome to crash there for as long as needed. But you are a strong, independent woman and you certainly don’t need me to make decisions for you.” The words tickle at the back of my throat, like the ghost of our past has somehow lodged itself there. “Have a good night.”
I barely make it ten feet.
“Wait.” Her sigh is long-suffering, and since I still have my back turned to her, I let myself smile, just a little.
I pause, allowing her to catch up with me.
“This doesn’t mean anything. I will only be staying in your room for one night. And only because I need a hot bath, like, yesterday.”
“Noted.” I call the elevator and hold the door while she steps inside first, trying not to think too hard about Jess in the bathtub, and push the button for the top level.
“Of course they put you up in some kind of penthouse suite,” she grumbles, under her breath but not really.
“Pretty sure this place doesn’t have a penthouse.”
When the doors open, we step out and I lead the way down the hallway. As soon as I open the door to the room, it’s clear I was right about the lack of a penthouse. The room can only be called cozy, with a large king-sized bed taking up most of the space. There’s a dresser with a small TV resting on top, and a single armchair next to what looks to be an old-fashioned wood-burning stove. The stove seems to be purely ornamental as there is no heat stemming from it and no wood anywhere to be found. There is, however, a whole lot of plaid. On just about every available surface.
Jess immediately veers toward the bathroom and comes out with something close to a smile on her face. “There’s a tub.”
Bathtubs used to be her one hotel requirement when we went on vacation, since neither of our Brooklyn apartments were big enough for one. I imagine she’ll linger in there for hours. The thought stokes a memory, of Jess naked and slick with water, straddling me in the tub, rocking over me gently, driving me to the edge and back so many times I finally hoisted her out of the water and bent her over the bathroom counter, stroking into her until we both screamed.
Jess tosses her bag into the armchair and it lands with a thud, forcing my mind to stop the replay just in time. My dick is half-hard, and I hastily move my hand to cover it. Luckily, she seems to be looking everywhere but at me.
I clear my throat. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll take a quick shower before you get in the bath. That way you can take as long as you want.” At least if she spends an hour in the bath, it’s one more hour we don’t have to try to force conversation.
She nods, unzipping her bag and rifling through, apparently looking for nothing since she comes up empty-handed. “Sounds good.”
I open my own bag, pulling out a pair of pajama pants, a plain white tee, and a clean pair of boxers before putting some much-needed separation between us in the form of the bathroom door.
Stripping out of my suit in the privacy of the bathroom feels like the best kind of relief. I hate dressing up, and everything about this evening has made the suit feel suffocating. The water pressure in the shower is surprisingly strong and I let it wash over me, easing the tension in my muscles. I feel like I’ve been clenched tight ever since stepping foot into the party, but the steam and the heat help ease the strain.
For a half second I consider jacking off, just to get it out of my system before my brain can play any further tricks on me. Before I have to consider sharing that bed with her. But something about it feels wrong, so despite the peace I find under the water stream, I step out of the shower after just a few minutes. I dress quickly, then open the door to the bathroom, letting out a cloud of steam.
“All yours.” I hang up my suit in the closet so I don’t have to watch her slip into the bathroom and shut the door between us.
Pulling my book from my bag, I turn down the sheets of the bed and make myself comfortable on the right-hand side. Jess always preferred the left, and even after all these years, I still gravitate toward “my” side of the bed. Normally, I don’t listen to music while I read, but I don’t want to overhear a smidge of what’s happening on the other side of this wall, so I slip in some earbuds and push Play on my relax playlist.
I’d like to say I let myself escape into the book, all thoughts of Jess and bathtubs free from my brain, but that, of course, would be a lie. Not even the greatest book ever written could keep me from thinking about her, imagining her hands running over her bare skin, soapy bubbles dotting the swell of her breasts, the strong lines of her calves.
I knew I should have jerked off.
I slam my eyes closed, as if that can somehow turn off my brain. Jesus Christ. I need to get it together. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable, and if tonight has shown me nothing else so far, it’s that Jess has zero interest in even talking to me, let alone reconciling in any way, shape, or form.
I’ve firmly resolved I will not think of her as anything but a colleague when the door to the bathroom opens.
More steam spills into the room, but it’s not enough to cloud over what else emerges.
Jessica. Wearing nothing but a towel.
She looks at me sheepishly. “I didn’t bring anything to sleep in.”
She always did prefer to sleep naked, a fact that I’m remembering way too fucking late in the game.
I direct my eyes toward the ceiling so I don’t ogle her. Reaching for the hem of the white T-shirt I’m wearing, I tug it over my head and toss it her way. When I don’t hear the bathroom door close again and she doesn’t say anything, I peek over at her.
Her eyes are glued to my torso. Actually, they’re not glued, they’re roving, skirting over my pecs and tracing down my abs.
I flex a little.
Her eyes finally meet mine and she realizes I’ve been watching her watching me. I grin and her cheeks color, as red as the holly berries in the wreath hanging on the door.
She scampers back into the bathroom and I swear I hear the towel drop to the floor. I let out a silent groan, scrubbing my hand over my face.
Somehow, when she emerges once again, it’s worse than before. My T-shirt barely covers the round curve of her ass. When she bends over to put her discarded clothes in her bag, I catch a tantalizing peek of skin, her underwear cut high enough to expose the bottoms of her cheeks.
From the slow way she returns to standing, I know this is my payback for flexing.
But if this is how she wants to get even, she can ogle me all she wants.
It’s a familiar game, one we used to play often. Of course, back then it would end with the two of us wrapped in each other, naked and sated. Something tells me neither of us will be finding that kind of relief tonight.
She spins around, and the loose neck of the shirt—my shirt—slips from her shoulder, revealing a whole lot of collarbone. The thin white fabric does nothing to disguise the pebbled tips of her nipples.
I clench my hands into fists.
For a silent, heavy moment, we are at a stalemate, eyes locked on each other, neither wanting to be the first to move. Both of us refusing to be the one to acknowledge the thick tension.
She cracks first. “I can sleep in the chair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I pat the other side of the bed. “This bed is huge. There’s room for both of us.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Nick.”
“Are you saying you don’t think you can control yourself in bed with me?” I arch an eyebrow, poking at her because it’s fun and because I want her to be as affected by me as I am by her.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not falling for your games, Nick Matthews.”
“Ouch. Full naming me already.” I lean back against the pillows, tucking an arm behind my head, watching as her eyes catch on the bulge of my biceps. “It’s okay, I understand. I would be tempted by me too.”
Her eyes narrow, and she stalks over to her side of the bed. “I am many things, Nick, but tempted by you is not one of them.” She slips in between the sheets and turns her back to me.
And because she knows exactly what she’s doing, she wiggles a little bit, causing the bottom hem of my T-shirt to ride up over the curve of her ass.
I stare for a second longer than I should before I roll onto my side, giving her my back in return. Reaching over to turn out the light, I plunge the room into darkness knowing there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to be getting any sleep tonight.
“Good night, Jess.”
“Night.”
I must be imagining it, but her voice sounds a little breathy, like it always used to when she was getting turned on.
But that’s the last thing I need to be thinking about.
So I close my eyes, wipe the vision of Jess’s glorious ass from my mind, and pretend to fall asleep.