Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Tom
W hy am I so nervous? This isn’t the first time a date’s invited me to her hotel room, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Yet, my heart is beating out of my chest, my stomach dancing a one-man jig as Paisley throws open her hotel door to reveal…
Mess. Complete and utter carnage. And here I was, assuming that she’d be a neat freak.
I kick off my shoes as Paisley scurries into the depths of her room, grabbing whatever misplaced articles she can reach en route. She throws her floordrobe into an open suitcase, tosses what I assume are last night’s pyjamas into the bathroom, and hurriedly grabs the bra hanging off the full-length mirror and stuffs it behind the vanity.
Despite the chaotic contents of the standard hotel room, the view over Las Vegas is breathtaking. If I look closely enough, I can retrace our steps from the beautiful romance of Paris to the decadent splendour of Venice, every kiss memorialised by an illuminated monument.
Not that Paisley’s paying attention, too busy flitting around like a worker bee to put the room back to rights. This is not how I want to spend what could be our only evening together. So, I close the distance between us, placing my hands on Paisley’s hips and burying myself in the delicate skin of her neck. I press soft kisses below her ear, nipping when I find the racing pulse point beneath my lips.
Paisley drops whatever incriminating evidence she’s holding and grabs onto my hands, moaning wantonly as she throws her head back onto my shoulder. She smells like a dream, like crisp, fresh laundry, completely at odds with our hot desert backdrop.
“So, just how many outfits did you try on before our little excursion this morning?” I murmur into her neck.
“A few,” Paisley gasps, cocking her head in a wordless plea.
Willingly, I oblige. I dip my face to hers and take her mouth in a harsh, demanding kiss. We battle for dominance, our tongues duelling as Paisley turns in my hold and twists her fingers into my shirt.
“God, Paisley, I need you,” I moan into her mouth, and she responds in kind, the sound setting my blood aflame, igniting the need that’s been smouldering in the pit of my stomach since her lips first touched mine.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, I walk us backwards, not stopping until Paisley hits the bed and collapses back against the stark, white sheets. Her mouth is parted temptingly, her chest heaving with short, breathless gasps. When I look into her bright eyes, they’re darkened with heady lust, and the intoxicating sight brings me to my knees. Literally, I fall to the floor in front of her and gently guide her knees apart so that I can position myself between them. As I do, her dress rides up over her soft, creamy thighs, affording me a glimpse of the sultry black-laced underwear I’ve been teasing myself with all afternoon.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, running my hands over her legs until I reach the rough edge of her panties. If tonight with Paisley is all I have, then I’ll savour every minute.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I skim my fingers over the lace, lightly running up and down the material and making sure to tease that sensitive spot on every pass until she’s a writhing, desperate mess beneath my hands.
“Tom, please,” she moans, chasing my maddening attention. She sounds heavenly, her hair haloed around her head and her skin glistening with sensual desire. I can’t wait to corrupt her completely.
Finally, I circle my thumb around her sensitive nub, taunting and tormenting her until Paisley’s panted breaths and keening sighs fill the hotel suite.
“More,” she begs, arching into my hand, wordlessly guiding me to exactly where she wants me. My own arousal is throbbing against the zipper of my jeans so achingly that I relent, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her underwear, ready to drag the shred of material down her thighs when…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Paisley jumps so hard I scarcely avoid taking a knee to the nose. “Who the hell’s that?” she asks, frantically pulling her rumpled dress back into place.
“Don’t move. I’ll get it.” I push to my feet, adjusting myself in the hope that my…excitement…isn’t painfully obvious to whoever’s at Paisley’s door.
Please don’t be her boss. Please, please, please.
My silent prayers are answered when I’m met by a bored hotel employee holding a platter of goodies.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” he drawls monotonously, not even waiting for me to respond before dumping the laden plate in my arms and slinking back to whatever corner of the hotel he came from.
Stunned, I turn back to Paisley, letting the door snick closed behind me as I hold out the platter by way of an explanation.
“Are those pastries?” she asks incredulously.
“Uh-huh. And chocolates and strawberries, and there are candied hearts everywhere.”
When I balance the enormous haul on Paisley’s vanity, I notice a pink note hidden underneath an elaborate flaky twist.
Congratulations on your engagement, darlings.
How quickly you work.
Don’t think you’re fooling us.
Love, Gloria and Dee x
The handwritten message is finished with a crudely drawn winky face. I can almost hear Gloria’s wicked cackle as she penned the note.
I should have known those two troublemakers were hidden in the magician’s crowd. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve been following us all day.
“Well, Paisley, it looks like I have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she stands and plucks a plump strawberry from the plate, moaning when she takes a scandalously suggestive bite.
Temptress.
Now, where were we?