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“I can leave.” The weight of his hand rested hot and heavy on my neck, his thumb stroking softly along the tight cords. “I’ll head back to the bar, get a drink, watch a ball game, and let you get some sleep. You can pretend this didn’t almost happen.”
He was giving me an out. There was no mistaking the regret in his voice or the parallel feeling that lanced through me at the thought of sending him away. Filling my uncooperative lungs with air, I spoke before I chickened out.
“I don’t want you to leave. I need this so badly. Remind me what all the fuss is about. Remind me why sex makes people do stupid things, like throw away a decade-old relationship. Remind me it can be exciting, earth-shaking. That it’s more than the same boring thing.” I never would have managed half that confession looking at him. But focused on the red lights on the door lock, I plowed through and dumped it all out. Pure word vomit.
My confession lingered in the stillness of the hotel hallway, and I worried I’d scared him off. My honesty was a lot to hear from a stranger.
“Try the door again.” The hint of command in his gravelly voice calmed my nerves. With steady hands, I smoothly unlocked and opened the door.
Georgie’s joyful barks and excited leaps of welcome cleaved the sexual tension. Atley gave my neck a last lingering caress and let go. I kneeled to give my good boy a little love.
Atley put his case of bull semen near the front door and lowered to take a turn petting my dog, who’d waited impatiently to greet a new friend.
“George, good to see you out of your cage.” He held his relaxed hand below Georgie’s nose and waited for the dog to come to him.
My dog sniffed his big hand, then ducked under to be petted. Atley didn’t just give an obliging pat. He kept all his intense focus on the dog and quickly discovered Georgie’s favorite spot to be scratched. My dog rolled belly up on the rug in utter bliss, his long hair puddling around him.
I understood the feeling. Atley’s touch was heavenly.
“Give me a second to tidy up his room while you two get acquainted.” I put my handbag on a table near the entry and rushed into the room I’d set up for Georgie. In a whirlwind of efficiency, I handled everything the dog needed to be happy for the night, from food bowls to pee-pee pads. Thank the lord and my in case of emergency Amex card for the two-room suite. No way I shared a naked Atley with Georgie. That was just weird.
In the attached bathroom, I washed my hands. In the mirror over the sink, I caught my reflection. My eyes sparkled, and a blush highlighted my cheekbones. Anticipation made me pretty. What an odd discovery to make in my forties.
Atley and Georgie had moved their bro cuddles to the couch. My dog obviously adored the man, so that was a good sign I’d not inadvertently invited a serial killer into my hotel room.
In the dim circle of light from a table lamp, Atley had arranged a collection of things that must have come from his pockets beside his upside-down hat. His cowboy boots were tucked neatly on the floor by the couch. Looking at his bare feet was almost enough to make me groan—something so intimate about it.
“Okay, Georgie, time for bed.” I snapped and pointed at the door to the second room.
He pawed Atley’s arm—demanding a last pat, which he got— before floofing down off the couch and trotting into his bedroom. I told him good boy and closed the door behind him.
“That’s the cleanest dog I’ve ever met.”
I chuckled. “He is a show dog, so weekly spa appointments are part of the routine.”
“Spa appointments, huh? My dog is happy to swim in the creek or a water trough.” Atley’s lopsided smile made him look younger than the almost fifty I’d assumed him to be.
“I’m guessing he has a different life than my boy.” After a few steps toward the couch, my bravery faltered, and I stood in the middle of the room playing with the hem of my blouse.
“Yeah, you could say that. Major helps me herd cattle and chase off vermin on the ranch.” He talked about his dog, but something had changed. His focus shifted, and it was like he’d stripped off my clothes with a glance and wanted to sample what was beneath.
“He sounds useful.” My breathless reply barely escaped my dry lips.
He didn’t reply.
In three long strides, he crossed the room. He lifted his hand and traced my cheek and down the bit of cleavage my blouse revealed. His delicate touch lit a fire under my skin. Using his index finger, he caught the V of my shirt, tugging the material toward him, his thumb poised to open the top button.
“Tell me,” he popped the first button.
I sucked in a breath.
“What,” he popped the second one, exposing my white cotton bra.
My jaw clenched and my heart took off like a jackrabbit.
“You think about,” he opened the third button, his knuckle grazing over my navel.
My toes curled in my shoes.
