Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
The crash sounds like an avalanche.
"No, no, no, no." I watch in wide-eyed horror as all of Rob's toiletries fall–seemingly in slow motion–to the ground, scattering in all directions.
From the other side of the door, Rob's deep voice hesitantly asks, "Are you okay in there? I'm going to feel pretty awkward if I have to go back to the front desk and ask for another bathroom rescue."
His joke makes me flush as I squeeze out, "Everything is fine!" in a completely believable manner. Clearing my throat doesn't seem to make me sound any more convincing. "Totally fine. Nothing to worry about."
"If you say so." I hear him chuckle as his footsteps retreat away from the door.
I glare at my left elbow. It's single-elbowedly responsible for this disaster after recklessly side-swiping everything off of the bathroom counter.
The damn thing couldn't keep its composure while I wildly flailed around trying to undo the clasp on my bra.
(Underwire bras are not acceptable comfy-time clothes, and Rob told me to make myself comfortable.)
Wearing only my panties, I drop to the ground and furiously scramble to gather Rob's lineup of toiletries: razor, shaving cream, beard oil, face wash, deodorant, cologne.
I'm glad to have a closed door between us because I can't imagine most people want an audience while they're crawling around on their hands and knees almost entirely naked.
Not that I'm kink shaming.
This simply cannot be my personal best look.
"Bathroom, one. Daisy, zero." I sigh as I scoop the toiletries into my arms and push to my feet to return everything to the counter in one spectacularly messy pile.
I can't for the life of me remember where everything was, and I don't pretend to try. I pose all of his toiletries in a neat row, fully aware that he's going to know I moved stuff around. Hopefully he'll assume I'm just neurotic in my preference of personal care good alignment.
He totally won't remember the big crashing sound as all of his stuff fell. I'll distract him into short-term memory loss!
How , you might ask? I have absolutely no idea.
I am not well-versed in the arts of seduction. Reading romance novels does not always translate as well to real life as one might think. My last few dates have not appreciated the production value of my attempts to stage grand romantic moments.
I should really check in with my therapist first thing when I get home.
Satisfied that my bathroom redecoration will pass as a compulsion rather than clumsiness, I strip out of my panties and hop into a quick shower.
I'm planning to use the hotel-provided shampoo and conditioner until I realize Rob's personal products are sitting on the other ledge, just beckoning me to smell like him all night.
If I'm lucky, his scent will manage to linger until I board my plane home tomorrow, that way I can daydream he's sitting beside me the whole way home.
Wow, I really need to rein myself in. I'm used to being a little out there , but I don't want to accidentally go full bunny-boiler on anyone á la Fatal Attraction .
As I step out of the shower smelling like one deliciously appealing book cover model, I take a deep breath and force my shoulders to relax.
My quick glance in the mirror confirms that my face is still flushed despite showering in cool water.
I'm not sure if it's from being aroused by Rob's scent or from my lingering embarrassment over the toiletries debacle.
A little of both, maybe.
Probably.
Definitely.
My pink cheeks aside, I'm relieved to look fully myself again. Makeup removed. Damp hair already retreating to its natural, slight waviness. I feel younger than my age as I stare at myself stripped down to my most natural state.
Once I stop being mesmerized by all of the transitions I've lived through in the past twenty-four hours, I remember Rob has been waiting for me for an awfully long time at this point.
He can rest easy knowing I'm too big to consider an air vent escape.
If hotel bathrooms had a window, he probably would have worried I was gone by now.
I make quick work of slipping into the coziest clothes I packed. A pair of navy blue athletic pants that are fitted at the ankle, and a form fitting, light blue tank top with bananas printed all over it.
When I finally step out of the bathroom, I find Rob sitting on the corner of the bed, his hands awkwardly clasped in his lap like he's not sure what to do with them.
He changed while I was in the bathroom, putting on loose athletic shorts and a t-shirt.
His eyes skim over me, taking in my bare face and change of clothes.
The way his expression softens as he stares at me makes my stomach dip with excitement and anticipation.
I mean this is a hotel room after all. And we're all alone in here...
In my best attempt at playing it cool, I put a hand on my waist and cock my hip to one side. "Well, I don't think I'll be wearing that dress again any time soon after the adventure it just had. Such a shame, too, because it's one of my favorites."
Rob shakes his head with a rueful smile. "Too bad. Looked great on you."
I shrug, tipping my chin down and watching him from under my eyelashes. I feel downright bashful. Maybe I should have walked out naked and feigned more confidence to help move things along. We both totally know the inevitable is going to happen next. (I think.)
"You look good in anything, though," Rob adds, his gaze skimming over me again.
The way he looks at me seems to scream raw attraction. There's no faking interest like this. And I'm every bit as enamored with him as he seems to be with me.
Why hasn't he made a move yet?
I shift my weight restlessly, silently willing him to get up and approach me. Make the next move. Accost me. Throw me down on the bed and rip my clothes to shreds.
Instead, he works his jaw back and forth as he seems to consider what comes next. I thought it was more obvious, but I guess I can take the first leap if that gets things moving faster.
After all, we only have tonight. We'll both head home tomorrow, and I don't expect the universe to make me lucky enough for us to call the same place home. He probably lives on the opposite side of the country or something.
Better to make the most of things now. Tomorrow is tomorrow's problem.
Confident in my decision, I lift my head high and stride forward, launching myself at him at the last second as his eyebrows arch up in surprise.
I lean over, my heart hammering in my chest, and brush my lips to his.
A whisper of a kiss. Testing the connection.
Melting against the softness of his plush lips.
And...
He freezes.
Absolutely no reaction. No returning my heartfelt kiss.
Terror flares through me, and I tear myself away as fast as I can. I straighten my spine and retreat a step, anxiously mumbling, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I thought..."
His hands snake out and grab me by the hips, his grip firm and certain.
He tugs me back to him, dragging me onto his lap with one sharp motion.
He falls back against the bed, taking me along with him until I'm straddling him.
Only then does his mouth crash against mine, swallowing my startled gasp, with a kiss that's equally hot, hungry, and devastating.
Our awkward tension gives way to something far more dangerous. A desperate kind of passion that isn't the least bit satiated by his tongue caressing mine.
I'm burning hot between my legs, and desperate for relief. I grind against him, relishing in the feel of his hardening cock through his thin shorts. His length rises to attention as I rub up against him as if I'm going into heat.
Kissing isn't enough.
I try to tug at his shirt, but it's caught between us. He chuckles against my lips and pulls away. My lips droop to a pout as I whimper my protest.
"So impatient," he teases, running a hand up my side until his thumb caresses the side of my breast. My tank top might as well not exist because I feel his touch like a burn straight to my skin. "Better that you can't get enough of me than trying to run from me."
I wrinkle my nose. Who wants to think about running away at a time like this?
I have plenty of time left before my royal carriage ( weekend away ) turns back into a pumpkin ( real life ).
Rob returns his hands to my hips and flips me over onto my back in the center of the bed before I can even blink. My mouth gapes open at him. I'm not used to being thrown around so easily.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he says quietly as he crawls over me as I writhe against the bed.
"Actually, I think I do." I look pointedly down between us. "I was sitting on what I do to you just a moment ago."
He groans as I giggle, humoring myself.
"Smart mouth." A wide smile crosses his face as he tucks my hair behind one ear.
"Better than having a dumb mouth." I lift one shoulder. I think I'm doing a great job pretending I don't have a care in the world while I lie here wondering why we're doing so much damn talking.
He shakes his head. "There's nothing dumb about you."
My melted brain would beg to differ as all rational thought abandons me the moment he rises up on his knees to pull his shirt over his head. His bare chest. Exposed for my personal pleasure only. Forget that I've seen him shirtless on book covers.
This is totally different.
"Tell me if this is too much," he says. His face grows serious as he holds his shirt in his hand, not quite flinging it away like I hoped.
I reach up and rip the fabric out of his hands, doing the honor myself. I'm not particularly athletic, so the shirt winds up landing on top of the lamp on the nightstand.
"Whoops." I wince, wondering how much of a fire hazard that might be.