Chapter 9
“B ailey?” Tim pulls back and tries to look at my face buried in the crook of his neck.
I want to sink down the drain. I’m so embarrassed at what I did, at what we did. I’ve never behaved like this. Never had sex with a man I just met. We didn’t even use protection. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t imagine what he thinks of me.
“Bailey,” he coos. “Look at me.”
I don't want to. I'm afraid this is where we part ways. I want to pretend this is going to last just a little longer. I want to stay in his arms.
His hand tangles in my hair. “What’s wrong?”
How do I explain that he made my body feel things I never felt before? That he opened my eyes to a whole new world? Not one-night stands, but to being with someone that doesn’t make me feel ashamed of my body. The simmering looks he gave me while we had sex made the whole experience that much better.
Why does the thought of walking away hurt so much? I understood what this was before it happened. But now, I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want to move on and pretend it never happened.
“Bailey,” he adjusts himself so he is able to cup my face between his warm, strong hands and engage me in a deep, tender kiss. “Spend the night with me.”
Now I’m the one to pull away. I need to look at him, see if he’s serious. He is, but why?
“Really?”
“Really.” He kisses me again. “I can't get enough of you."
My eyes drop, and my lips curl into a smile. A strange sensation I've never felt before spreads through me.
"Don't get shy on me now." He crooks my chin up with his pointer finger, looking smug. "There was nothing shy about you a few minutes ago."
*
W e go back to my room because Francesca freaked out when I told her I was heading back to the hotel with Tim. Knowing my best friend, she'll come looking for me when she gets back—if she’s not already waiting outside my door.
"You can't leave with him!"
"Why not? I thought you'd be doing a dance at the prospect of me hooking up."
"You don't know this guy. What if he’s a serial killer?"
“He’s not."
"How do you know?"
"I just do. I feel . . . connected to him."
"You lost your shit. You know that, don't you? You're a single woman alone in a strange city. You just picked up this—"
"You wanted me to loosen up and have a good time. I mean, look how you dressed me. I thought you'd be happy."
"And I thought you were into Walker. Or Ian. You just left him for this other guy?"
I shrug. "Ian never came to find me."
“Maybe he did, and you were too busy for him.”
I feel my face fill with color.
“I’m being a shitty friend aren’t I?”
“No, I’m just worried about you.”
"Ian seems like a nice guy, but I'm really into Tim. Besides, hooking up with one of Sam’s friends can get complicated and cause problems between us in the long run. It’s better this way. I just wanted to let you know so you don't worry.”
“Give me fifteen minutes,” Tim says when the elevator doors open on my floor. I have a few things I need to check for work.”
It’s odd that he’d look to work now. I remind him of my room number and walk down the hall to my room. Alone.
I take a quick shower to rinse off and throw on a pair of very short pajama shorts and a tank top. It may not be the sexiest thing I own, but they're cute and comfortable. Fifteen minutes come and go. I sit on my bed, trying to find something to do.
Twenty minutes. Nothing. I pull a pad and pencil out of the night table drawer and start to sketch.
Thirty minutes pass, and still there's no sign of Tim. Disappointment settles in my belly. He changed his mind. Or maybe he never intended on coming to my room and work was a ready excuse. Maybe I should be happy that I have an amazing memory to keep with me. I've all but given up hope when the knock at my door sends my heart soaring in a frenzy.
I shouldn't be so excited. I know that I'm setting myself up for a world of pain. It's almost twenty-four hours since I first laid eyes on Tim, and already he's turning me and my world upside down.
I jump off the bed and head to the door, trying hard not to look like I've been waiting for him with bated breath. That's a fact he doesn't need to know.
Tim wears a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a tight t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and shows off the muscles beneath it. Standing behind a food cart, he looks just as sexy in his casual attire as he did earlier in the night.
I step back and let him in.
"I thought you might be hungry," he says, pushing the cart with silver-covered trays and an open bottle of champagne into my room. "After fucking like that, I'm starved."
“Oh? Do you . . . fuck like that often?" I struggle to sound casual. He doesn't answer right away, and I fight the urge to clarify.
His eyes search mine. He snickers, shakes his head, and pours champagne into the waiting glasses on the food cart. I can't help but feel like he's avoiding the question. I wonder why? It's not like I have a right to be upset if he says yes. He doesn't owe me anything.
Once he's done, Tim takes my hand and pulls me to sit down on the bed next to him. “I don’t normally behave the way I did tonight. And it was the first time I had sex outdoors in a public venue. Man, was that amazing.”
My first instinct is to call bullshit. He was too confident, too comfortable in that situation.
"How about you? Have you ever had sex under the stars?"
I'm so embarrassed, I feel a blush come over me. My eyes drop to the comforter so I don't have to see the scrutiny of his intense stare. I pull on a loose string.
"Nah. I'm pretty boring."
He laughs. "I've seen boring, and you are not it. Walking the halls naked in the middle of the night isn't something a boring woman does."
"I had a robe on!"
"But nothing underneath."
Why did I admit that? "That's not the point."
He laughs. "That's exactly the point. If you were as dull and boring as you'd have me believe, you never would've spoken to me last night."
Tim brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. His simple touch sets off a shower of hot, burning sparks between us. Everything about the moment that was light and playful a moment ago changes. The moment is serious. Intense.
“And you never would've had sex with me tonight." His voice is low. It sounds almost nostalgic. “That was a gift. Thank you.”
Before I can protest, he reaches behind my neck and leans in for a kiss. Within seconds, the soft, gentle kiss changes. It deepens.
It's desperate.
Needful.
Hands paw and mouths nip. Like starving animals, we go at each other. I straddle one leg over his lap, rubbing, grinding against his thick thigh. His arms are tight around me. Holding me. Clutching me. Pressed against his chest, I feel his heartbeat. It's frantic, just like mine. We're close, but not close enough. I want, no need, to feel him inside me again.
My lips travel to his neck, kissing him. Tasting him. I grab the hem of his shirt and lift it up over his head. My hands travel over his bare skin, enjoying his warmth, his strength.
I never felt this kind of passion for Corey. The need to climb on top of him and rip his clothes off.
Corey .
The thought sobers me up. Cools me off. I pull away from Tim, embarrassed once again at my behavior. This isn’t who I am.
“What’s wrong?" He looks confused. "Did I hurt you?" He sounds concerned.
My chest tightens. It's guilt. I'm just not sure if it's guilt over what I just did, how I acted earlier, or the fact that I don't feel one stitch of regret that I'm not doing any of this with Corey. I shouldn't either. This was his choice. It's on him. But we were together for years. Shouldn't I be mourning our relationship? Shouldn't I feel something more?
"No. I'm sorry, I just felt . . . overwhelmed."
His turn to look away and shut down. "I pushed too far, didn’t I? Should I leave?" He asks, sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of the bed.
"No! I mean, please don't. I just need a minute." I reach out and rest my palm on the top of his thigh.
After a few long breaths, he uncovers the dishes, putting the spread of food on display. One tray is full of fruit: grapes, strawberries, and bananas, with a bowl of melted chocolate in the center. Another dish has an order of pancakes dripping with syrup. And the last dish has an array of mini quiches.
"How did you get all this? The kitchen is closed."
He smiles. "That's what took so long. I had to twist a few arms. It's not much, and they couldn’t find any watermelon, but I didn't want to show up empty-handed."
My heart thumps.
Francesca was right. I need to be careful. This man is dangerous, alright. Dangerous to my heart.
Tim picks up a strawberry, dips it in the chocolate, and brings it to my lips. I open my mouth, welcoming the sweet treat. He rubs it along my bottom lip before placing it on my tongue. I close my mouth and chew. Wanting to partake in the fun, I do the same and offer it to him. We take turns feeding each other, teasing each other while we talk about sports and our favorite athletes.
A sharp rap on the door causes me to jump and my fingers to slip into the chocolate sauce, along with a banana slice.
"Shit!"
Tim takes my hand, brings it up to his mouth, and wraps his lips around my fingers, clearing the sweet brown substance from me.
"Be right there," I call out.
Before I open the door, I look through the peephole to make sure someone didn't knock in error. As I suspect, it’s Francesca.
"Sorry," I mouth to Tim. I hold up my index finger, signaling I need a minute.
I crack the door open and slip outside, closing it before Francesca has a chance to embarrass me.
"I wanted to make sure you're still alive and not at the bottom of a lake somewhere or chopped into pieces in the bathtub."
"I'm fine. I told you, he's not a nut case."
She shakes her head in disapproval. "I don't know how you can say that."
"You came. You checked on me. Now you can go to bed."
"So I don't even get to meet him?"
"I think it's a little premature for him to meet my friends."
"But it's not premature for you to spend the night together?"
"What did you think was going to happen when you dressed me like that?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know. Now, go." I grab her shoulders and turn her around.
"Fine. You're a big girl."
"I love you!" I watch my best friend walk away, then slip back into the room. Tim is stretched out on my bed with his arm behind his head, like it’s the most natural thing for him to be waiting for me like this.
"Everything okay?"
"Just peachy."
"Why do I get the feeling you're lying?"
"Because I am." I smile and sit on the bed next to him. "That was my friend checking up on me. She's nervous. About you."
"The bride?"
"Yep."
"Why didn't you introduce us? We could’ve set her mind at ease.”
“Doubt it.”
“Seriously, I would've used my charm to reassure her."
"I hate to break it to you, but you're not all that charming."
"I'm not?" He asks with a crooked brow.
"No."
"Then why am I here in your bed?"
"Because you have a huge um . . . package."
He laughs, grabs me by the waist, and pulls me down so that I'm lying next to him.
"So it's my huge package that you like?" He rolls on top of me and tickles me until I lose my breath.
"Yes!" I answer through fits of laughter.
"Then I better get to work giving you what you want," he says, yanking my shorts down.
Our eyes meet. They lock. There it is, the connection. The invisible wire that winds around us and makes it so difficult to pull myself away. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with oxygen, and hold it. I can't breathe. All I can do is focus on the passion I see in his eyes. The longing. The lust.
I feel something deep in my core. I don't know what it is exactly, but I feel it, and it's only in this moment that I realize that's what was missing with Corey. His looks, his touches, they only skimmed the surface. They didn't make me lose my breath. They didn't make me feel. Anything.
Words are lost. Trapped somewhere between my heart and mind because, for the first time in forever, they're on the same page, working in unison. Tim's hands skim down my legs. I shudder. That's what he does with every kiss, every touch. He makes me feel it deep down below the skin. My heart pounds and races with expectation.
"You are so beautiful," he says, pulling my shirt up over my head. "So beautiful and sexy."
"Thank you."
I watch him shed his shorts. It was only a couple of hours ago that he was inside me, yet I want him more now than I did then. Tim watches me in silence as he rolls a condom on. Something we skipped in our first go at it.
His eyes don't leave mine. We don't speak as he climbs on top of me. Not a word. His eyes bore into mine as he enters me. The lump in his throat bobs as he pushes his full length inside and closes his eyes. After a moment of quiet stillness, his hips move, thrusting in and out. Slow and hard. Deep and tender.
I run my hand down the center of his back, along his thick cord of muscle. I see reverence in his eyes, and I don't understand it. I don't understand why this feels so meaningful.
Tim continues to thrust in long, hard strokes inside me. Thoughts slip from my mind. My hips rise to meet him. To better feel him. The only thing that I think of, that I feel, is more. I want more. I need more.
More. More. More.
More physical pleasure.
More ecstasy.
More of Tim.
More of everything Tim is willing to give me.