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“You guys can take off.” The groom pulled out his wallet, shrugged, and said, “We’re going to wait back here awhile, so it looks like we’re having a ‘heart-to-heart’ before we make it official.”
He pulled out a stack of cash, which I wished I could refuse because these two had already paid for our accommodations. But I didn’t want to take money away from Soph—
“Keep it,” Sophie said, glancing over at me like she was trying to gauge what my reaction would be to her words. “You already paid for our hotel and flight. Keep the money.”
Without thinking, I reached over and grabbed her hand, linking my fingers through hers. I hadn’t meant to do it, but I just loved what a decent human she was.
She looked surprised by the action, her eyes all over my face, and I hoped I hadn’t screwed myself with the gesture.
But then her fingers squeezed back, and I knew it was okay.
—
“So what do you want to do now?” Sophie had been quiet on the ride back to the hotel, responding to work emails while I’d watched downtown Detroit rush by through the windows, but now we’d arrived at the hotel.
“We could grab some dinner,” I suggested as we headed for the elevator, though I still wasn’t keen on eating.
I hadn’t had a hangover in a long-ass time, and the one I’d been blessed with that morning was a doozie. What Sophie didn’t know was that after our shenanigans in the stairwell, I’d gone back to the bar and proceeded to drink a little more.
Because I couldn’t get her out of my fucking head.
Of course, the joke was on me because that only made it worse and also made me feel like I’d been run over by a garbage truck.
“I’m still not really in the mood for food,” she said as we stopped and waited for the elevator to come down. “But I can keep you company if you’re hungry.”
“God, no,” I said, and she grinned at the face I made. “I feel good but notthatgood.”
“Same.” She pressed the button again, even though I already had, and said, “Maybe we should turn in early and get a good night’s sleep.”
I watched her face, searching for some clue that she knew what I was feeling for her and was employing distance, but she looked normal, so I said, “Not a bad idea.”
The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
“Twelve, right?” I asked, pressing nine for me and twelve for her.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
Neither one of us said anything as the elevator started moving. Because I was losing it in regard to Sophie, my brain started tossing scenarios my way, scenarios that had her and me up against the wall with alarms going off.
She looked over at me. “What room are you in again?”
I swallowed and knew the electricity crackling in the air was just me. “Nine twelve.”
“Ah,” she said, giving a nod of her head, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. “Floor niner.”
“Did you just say—”
“Niner? Yes.” She nodded again and looked back at the numbers above the door. Muttered, “Nines.”
Her idiotic words made my pulse kick up a notch, because it felt like she was fighting something, too. Maybe it was just me, but it felt suffocating in the elevator, like the air was thick with sexual tension.
When the doors opened on nine, it pained me to exit.
“So this is me,” I said like a moron, stepping out of the elevator and turning to face her.
“Max on the niner,” she said quietly, almost to herself as her eyes stayed on the number buttons that lit up the elevator wall.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice coming out a little gravelly.
