Chapter 2 #2
I slide a hand into his hair, all thick and silky, and lick his tongue, sinking into the heat of the kiss, the absolute drugging euphoria of it. The sounds of the baccarat tables, glasses clinking, and people talking fade away and I’m melting, needing to get closer to him, dying for him.
He’s bold. Forceful. Taking what he wants. But also giving. And he’s being careful with me. I can feel it in the tension of his body. And that makes me even hotter for him. I kiss him back, our mouths crushed together, moving in consuming strokes of tongue and nibbles and sucks.
When he slowly draws back we’re both panting. He stares into my eyes. My lips throb, my pussy aches, and my skin tingles everywhere.
“Jesus,” he whispers.
I pull in a shaky breath. All I can do is nod.
“Are you staying here?” His thumb rubs over my bottom lip.
“Yes.”
“Me, too.”
Our gazes are still anchored together and I can count the passing of time in thuds of my heart. I want what he’s asking so bad. So desperately. But…
I pull out my phone and tap the screen. “Oh my God. It’s two in the morning.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t seem surprised.
“I have to go,” I say on a sigh. “I have to meet up with my team at nine. There’s a lot to do.”
He gives me a slow, lopsided smile.
“Tomorrow’s a crazy day. For you, too, probably.”
“Yeah.”
I hesitate, then opt for honestly. “I’d really like to stay.”
He gently cups my face with both hands now. “Me, too.” A sliver of a smile appears on his beautiful mouth.
I give a shaky smile in return. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t apologize. You’re being sensible.”
“Reluctantly sensible.” That would be the title of my autobiography—Reluctantly Sensible.
“Me, too.” He leans in and brushes another soft kiss over my mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah! We’re gonna win.”
He lets out a low laugh. “Right.” And he releases me.
I slide out of the curved booth, forcing my legs to stand and walk. “Good night, Marek.”
“Take care, honey bear.”
I pause and give him a “really?” look, chin down, brow arched. He smirks and shrugs.
As I cross the carpeted floor, I cast a last look over my shoulder. He’s watching me. My heart flips as I turn away.
This hotel is so huge I hope I can find my way to my room. I retrace our steps down the corridor. The elevators to the sky suites are right there on my left, so I hurry toward them and ride up to the twenty-fifth floor where my suite is.
What just happened?
I literally feel like I could cry, I’m so affected by that kiss. And the conversation. The flirting. The warm, admiring look in Marek’s eyes. Take care, honey bear.
And yeah, I’m disappointed.
I exhale a long breath and sink down onto the couch. “Whoa.”
The city of Las Vegas glitters outside the floor-to-ceiling window. It’s beautiful in a distant, stark way. I’m acutely aware of my aloneness.
Which I’m used to. Which I like. Most of the time I’m surrounded by people but when I’m alone I treasure that time. I don’t usually get lonely.
But right now I wish Marek were here.
My imagination takes flight, imagining us making out on this couch, then moving to the bedroom with its crisp white linens and thick pillows.
Imagining sex with the blinds on the big window open and city lights spread out in front of us.
Imagining Marek’s strong body moving over me.
In my mind, Marek is the same kind of lover as he was tonight—attentive, confident, generous.
I roll my eyes at myself and stand. It was hard enough walking away from him without torturing myself by thinking of him.
I need to be responsible. My team arrives in the morning to get set up, I have All Star events to attend, and then the game is at three o’clock, which means I have to be there earlier than that. I need to sleep.
The turn-down service has been here. There’s a chocolate on the pillow, ice in the bucket, and my humidifier is running in the bedroom.
The desert air is dry and I have to stay hydrated.
I grab a bottle of water, which I don’t keep in the fridge.
I don’t need ice, either. I drink my water at room temperature to protect my vocal cords.
I strip out of my clothes and pad into the bathroom.
It’s big enough for two—well, probably four, actually, not that I’m into that—and gleams with white stone floors and counter, white walls, and a huge mirror above the sinks that reflects the glitter of the strip from the big window, because it’s a corner suite and even the bathroom has a view.
I don’t bother with the drapes; nobody can see in here.
I dutifully use my saline sinus rinse, which I faithfully do every night even though it’s not exactly pleasant, then wash my face and follow my skincare routine.
I know it’s important to take care of my looks, but jeez, I’m only twenty-five.
I don’t have wrinkles, never had acne, and sometimes I just want to fall into bed with my makeup on.
Sometimes I want to stay up all night getting railed by a hot hockey player.
When I’m in my pajamas, I climb into bed with my phone and slide down beneath the billowy duvet.
I know it’s bad to look at my phone right before bed, but it’s another rule that annoys me.
I try so hard to follow all the rules but sometimes it feels so constraining.
As a kid, I wasn’t very self-disciplined, but my parents drilled it into me that I had to be if I wanted to succeed.
And I’m working on it. It’s worth it to be able to achieve my goals.
To do what I love and share my music with the world.
I know Marek can’t contact me. He doesn’t know my number and I’ve set Instagram so I don’t get message requests. But I go to his profile.
He follows me.
A smile pulls at my lips. I wonder when he started following me. Tonight? Or was he following me before?
I scroll through his meager posts, pausing at a video. It’s Marek taking a high school boy shopping for a suit for prom. It’s adorable.
There are a couple of pics of him on game day in a suit and tie and oh yeah, he looks good.
Shit, I’m never going to get to sleep. I’m excited and wide awake. I might as well have invited him up here. At least I’d be having fun.