Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
MABLE
Asmall sigh leaves me as I start to wake. I reach across the cool sheets, expecting to find him, and my hand comes back with nothing. For a brief moment, I wonder if it was all a dream, but then I smell him.
Sandalwood and salt and something more masculine and darker.
I bury my face in his pillow and inhale, and my whole body flushes and tingles with the memory of what he did to me.
How he kissed every inch of me like he couldn’t help himself.
So much so that he woke me in the middle of the night, his mouth already between my legs, his hands pinning my hips to the mattress, making me come apart again before I was even fully awake.
Never have I felt so wanted before. I have touched myself a few times, but it was anticlimactic. Between that and what those other dates had said, I started to worry that maybe I just didn’t have that fire inside of me. I was wrong; you just need the right person to light it.
I touch myself without thinking, still sensitive, still aching in a way I’ve never ached before. He ruined me. One night with him and I’m already ruined for anyone else.
The hurt is immediate and sharp at that realization, a knot forming in my chest that I want to ignore.
He and I are only a fling, and I don’t think I will ever meet anyone like him again.
A person that seems to see me more than most people.
I have only ever felt that my best friend, Truly, could see it.
I sit up, pulling the sheet around me. I’m past the point of return. I’m here to have fun, and that’s what I’m going to do. The suite is quiet. I grab the hotel robe from the bathroom door and wrap it around myself, tying it tightly, and pad out into the living room.
He’s there, standing by the window, phone to his ear.
He’s wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, and I can see the muscles in his back working as he talks in a low voice.
I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I don’t move, wanting to watch him without him knowing, but he catches me in the reflection of the glass and ends the call immediately, setting his phone face down on the table.
“You’re awake.” He turns, and the smile that spreads across his face is so warm and genuine, making the knot in my chest loosen. “I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”
He crosses the room in three strides, cupping my face in his hands, and kisses me like we’ve been torn apart for years and finally found each other again.
Desperate lovers. Like he didn’t just have me twice last night.
His tongue slips into my mouth, and I melt into him, my hands finding his bare chest. I run them up and wrap them around his neck, interlocking my fingers.
I have to stand on my tiptoes to manage it.
“I can still bring you breakfast in bed,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands gripping my waist to lift me off my feet. I wrap my legs around him. “Or I can eat you right here.” Caldwell sets me down on the edge of the table.
“You need real food,” I laugh. Does he really only want to go down on me? I mean, I don’t want to complain, but I want to see more of him too.
“I only need you.” He kisses me again, softer this time, his thumb tracing my jaw. “But I’ll feed you first. You’re going to need your strength.” He nips my bottom lip, his eyes dropping to my chest, and I watch them darken. My robe gapes open in the front.
“You’re not wearing anything under this,” he says, his voice rough.
“I didn’t have time to get dressed.”
“Good.” His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the robe wider. “Keep it open. Let me look at you.”
I should feel exposed. I should feel shy.
But the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes me feel powerful.
I let the robe fall open, my hands braced behind me on the table.
I am supposed to do whatever he tells me, after all.
I know he did that to make me relax. That I have this safety button I could push if I’m not comfortable with something.
I have no plans on using that word. I’m embracing this, loving the freedom of it.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his eyes roaming over me. “I know I keep saying it, but you’re perfect.” He shakes his head. “Perfect isn’t even a good enough word.” Caldwell almost sounds like he’s talking to himself there at the end.
There’s a knock at the door, making me tense. I’m guessing it’s room service.
He doesn’t move. His hands stay on my thighs, his thumbs tracing circles on my inner skin, dangerously close to where I’m already wet and aching for him.
“Caldwell,” I whisper. “The door.”
“Let them wait,” he says, leaning in and kissing my throat, my collarbone, and the top of my breast. “I want to taste you again.”
“They’ll hear,” I protest, but I’m arching into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. He groans loudly against my skin, a sound of pure frustration, and pulls back.
“Don’t move. I want to look at you while I eat.” I fight a small laugh. Does he really want to watch me naked over breakfast?
He opens the door, and I hear a male voice. “Room service for Prince—”
“Thank you,” Caldwell cuts him off, taking the cart. But I barely register the words because I’m looking at his phone, still on the coffee table where he left it.
The screen lit up with a text. Just for a second. Long enough for me to see the name.
Cordelia.
And the preview: Are we still on for tonight? Can’t wait to see you in your tux.
My heart sinks. The blood drains from my face. Cordelia. The wedding. His date. He lied.
I pull the robe closed, my hands shaking, and slip off the table. I start to head back for the bedroom when Caldwell wheels in the cart. He must be able to read my expression because he instantly knows something is wrong.
His eyes narrow, searching my face. Then he looks at the table. At his phone.
“Shit,” he mutters.
But before I can say anything, the room service attendant—a young guy with dark hair and a friendly smile—leans around the doorframe.
“Sir, I forgot the—” He stops. His eyes land on me, on the robe that I thankfully closed, and on my bare legs.
His smile starts to falter before a full-on smile overtakes his face.
I don’t know what’s happening when Caldwell moves so fast I barely see it. He’s across the room in an instant, putting his body between me and the door, blocking the man’s view.
“Get out,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. I even take a step back.
“I was only—”
“Now.” Caldwell’s hand is on the door, his shoulders tense, his whole body radiating fury, which I didn’t think was possible. “And if you look at her again, I’ll have you fired.” Caldwell leans in, whispering something into his ear.
The attendant’s eyes widen. He stammers something and quickly disappears. Caldwell slams the door and turns to me, his expression still dark.
“Did he see you?” he demands. I stare at him, confused by the intensity of his reaction.
“He just saw me in a robe. It’s not—”
“Then yes, he saw you.” Caldwell crosses the room, lifting me off my feet again, putting me back on the table. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open again despite my attempt to close the robe. “He saw this. And he wanted it.”
“He didn’t—”
“He did.” Caldwell kisses me hard, possessive, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “I saw the way he looked at you. Like he wanted to take you from me.”
I’m reeling here. The text from Cordelia. His jealousy over a stranger. The intensity in his eyes that should scare me but instead makes me want to surrender. I don’t understand how he can look at me, and I cut my own thought off.
“Caldwell,” I whisper. “Who’s Cordelia?”
He goes still. His hands tighten on my thighs.
“She’s...” His eyes meet mine. “She’s no one.” No one? Is that what he thinks of a girl when he’s done with them? That he found me in the airport and decided to hop beds.
“She’s your date for the wedding.” My voice is small, and I hate that. I want to be confident and unbothered. “I saw the text.”
I see panic there. Real panic. “Mable, it’s not what you think. She’s—my mother arranged it. I never—”
“You’re going to the wedding with her.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He flipped when a random man saw my legs; that wasn’t even my fault, but he’s got a whole freaking date! “While I’m here, in your room, in your bed—”
“Stop.” He catches my wrists, his grip firm but gentle. “Look at me.”
I do, and I hate that there are tears in my eyes. I hate that I care this much. We just met. This is just a fling. I have no right to feel betrayed.
But I do.
“Cordelia is nothing,” he says, his voice rough. “A family obligation. A name on a list. You are—” He breaks off, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You are everything. You are the only one I want.”
“Then why didn’t you invite me?” The question tears out of me before I can stop it. “Why are you going with her instead of me? What’s so wrong with me?” They’re rhetorical questions. I know the answers; I’ve been told before: I’m boring and cold.
He goes silent. His jaw tightens like he’s waging a war inside of himself.
“Because I was trying to protect you,” he finally says. “The wedding. It will be a nightmare. There will be cameras. Press. People who will tear you apart just for standing next to me. I couldn’t let them hurt you.”
I stare at him. “Well, you have fun with that. I’ll be out of here soon.” I push hard, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are only growing more intense.
“I was trying to—”
“Protect me?” I pull my wrists free, wrapping the robe tight around myself. “Or protect yourself?”
He flinches like I’ve struck him. And in the silence that follows, I know I’ve hit something true.
I slide off the table, my legs unsteady. I have to reach out and brace myself with my hand. “I need to get dressed.”
“Mable—”
“I need space, Caldwell. Please.” The last word cracks.
He doesn’t stop me when I walk to the bedroom. But I feel his eyes on me the whole way. I don’t know if I’m running from him or from how much I want to believe him.
I barely make it to the bedroom before the tears start. I swipe at them angrily, hating how silly and weak I feel and how much this hurts. It’s just a fling, vacation sex… a man I met yesterday. Okay, Mable, just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true.
I notice a slight shake of my hands as I grab my suitcase and throw it on the bench at the end of the bed. Why did I ever think that I could do this?
I need to get out of here. Once I’m back in my home and tucked away in a library, it will all be okay. I’ll be safe again. I’ll go back to who I was, and that will make this fade away. I’m stuffing clothes into the bag when the door opens behind me.
“Mable.” His voice is rough, desperate. I hate how much of an effect it has on me. “Don’t.”
“Go away.” I don’t turn around. I can’t look at him. I’ll cave. Clearly, I’m a sucker. “You have a wedding to get ready for. Your date is waiting.”
I hear him cross the room and feel him behind me. His hand closes over mine, stopping me from folding another sweater.
“Please.”
“I can’t stay here.” My voice cracks. “I can’t be the girl you play with while you’re waiting for your real date. I’m not built for that, Caldwell. I know I’m not exciting or interesting or…”
He spins me around so fast I gasp. His hand comes to my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are burning with something I don’t understand, but it makes my stomach tighten.
I want so badly for him to prove me all wrong.