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I pass my keycard over the sensor and open the door, ushering her inside.
She comes to a halt three steps in, and I nearly slam into her. “Holy hell, Griffin. This is . . . not a normal hotel room.”
“Uh, no, it’s a suite.”
“It’s like a really, really nice apartment. Like the nicest apartment I’ve ever been in.” She wanders around the living room, running her fingers along the arm of the couch. She peeks her head in the bedroom and moves on quickly, a flush creeping up her neck.
She stops at the kitchen and does some kind of swoony thing. “You have a freaking wall oven!” She opens the cupboards and drawers. “And plates and silverware.”
“It’s not very comfortable living out of a bar fridge.”
“Do you ever cook?”
“Occasionally. I have a lot of business dinners, though, and cooking for one often seems pointless.”
“If I had a kitchen like this, I’d cook all the time. I’d throw a damn dinner party.”
I slip a hand into my pocket and lean against the doorjamb. “Feel free to come by any time and throw me a dinner party.”
I grin when she tosses a dirty look over her shoulder. “I need to check out the bathroom.” She flits past me, long legs carrying her across the room. Maybe inviting her here wasn’t the best idea. Because now that she is, all I can think about is how much I’d like to get her out of those too-short shorts and pick up right where we left off on that picnic table. After a shower, of course.
“Oh my God! You have a Jacuzzi tub!” I follow her into the bathroom. She’s standing in the middle of the empty tub with her hands on her hips. “Please tell me you’ve used this at least once.”
“I’ve used it at least once.” That’s untrue, but clearly it’s not what she wants to hear.
She cocks her head to the side. “You’re lying. I can’t believe you haven’t taken a bath in here. If this were mine, I’d have a bubble bath every single damn night.”
“You’re welcome to have one now, if you’d like.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Why not? Someone should get some use out of it.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That would be weird.”
“What would be weird about you enjoying my Jacuzzi?”
“Oh I don’t know, Griffin, maybe because I’d be lounging in a bubble bath naked while you’re sitting out there doing whatever.” Her cheeks flush deeper as she flails toward the doorway I’m leaning against.
I fight a grin. “Weren’t you planning to use my shower, anyway? How would that be any different?”
“A shower is not the same as a bubble bath in a Jacuzzi that can fit four adult bodies.” The flailing and flushing amp up a few notches. “I mean, not that I think four adults should get into a Jacuzzi together or anything, especially not naked. I just . . . It’s just, I-I-I—”
I try to save her from having to openly reject me. “I get it. You don’t want to be naked, covered in bubbles in my bathroom while I’m out there thinking about you being naked, covered in bubbles. It’s completely understandable.” Except based on the way her eyes flare and her cheeks flush even more, I’m not sure my attempt at diffusing the tension is working. I take a step back into the hall. “I’ll let you freshen up. Shower or bath, it’s up to you. I’ll be out there behaving myself, not thinking about you being naked.”
I turn away, internally berating myself for fucking this up and making it unnecessarily awkward.
“Griffin?”
I pause and look over my shoulder. Bad fucking move. Cosy’s still standing in the middle of the tub, fingers at her lips, that long braid hanging over her shoulder, her clothes streaked with orange, like her skin. She’s caked in dust, with windblown hair. She looks like freedom wrapped in a beautiful package. One I’d like to unwrap and get my hands all over, dirty or not.
“Do you need something? Your bag? I can grab it for you.”
“No. I don’t need my bag.” She lifts a shoulder, looking uncertain. “Maybe you want to have a bubble bath with me?”
It’s sort of a question. My eyebrows shoot up, and I’m pretty sure the speed with which my cock swells could go down in the Guinness Book of World Records for fastest hard-on reaction time.
“Unless you don’t want to. I mean, maybe it’s not your thing. I can have a shower.” She grips the edge of the tub as if she’s preparing to get out.
“I want to.” I take a step toward her. “Definitely.”
A shy, flirty smile appears. “I thought it could be fun, and we have all this time before dinner.”
“I think there’s bubble bath somewhere in here. They always leave a Jacuzzi package in these suites.” I don’t want to make assumptions, but getting into a bath together seems a lot like an invitation for sex. I’ve never been a jump - into - bed - right - away guy. Usually there are at least a few get - to - know - you dates before that happens. But I’ve been cautious with Cosy, more so than usual, possibly because she’s the first person I’ve made it past date one with since Imogen broke off our engagement. So it feels oddly like we’re moving at Mach 10 when we were crawling along before.
