Page 3 of Inn To You

She shakes her head and swipes at the errant drop. Although it isn’t polite to stare, I can’t take my eyes off her. Despite her feisty personality and the unspoken evidence that she doesn’t like me, she’s a fucking knockout. Even with those studious, black-rimmed glasses, which she slips a finger underneath to wipe away another tear.

Without thought, I reach for her hips and gently jostle her. “Hey, it’s okay. I mean, we won’t be stuck in here forever, right? If we are, at least, we have water and toilet facilities and about twenty-seven pounds of toilet paper which we could slip under the door as a distress note.”

“I’m in over my head,” she whispers.

My hands are still on her hips, palms flat and sweaty while I squeeze her defined bones. My body vibrates with the desire to pull her onto my lap and hold her. She’s strong-willed, stubborn even, but determination and confidence are not always bedfellows.

And tears are not what I’d expect of her.

“It’s okay to admit you need help.” The advice isn’t something I’d give myself personally, but it sounds encouraging.

She shakes her head. “You’re such an ass.” Her voice softens, and she swallows a bitter chuckle as she insults me.

“How does that make me an ass?” The offense in my tone is clear.

“Have you never wanted anything for yourself? Something that proves you’re more than they think you are?”

“Who’re they?”

“Oh, forget it.” Her hands swipe outward, and I have to lean back so she doesn’t smack me in the nose. Only I hit my head on the low-hanging shelf behind the toilet.

The edge hits me just right in the back of the skull, and my eyes burn. “Fuck.”

“Shit.” She hisses and cups the sides of my head, tugging my noggin forward. The crown of my head rests between her breasts as she inspects the back. My eyes close. Isn’t this how every man wants to die? Okay, buried inside her might be even better, but resting between her firm tits would be a nice consolation prize. Still heaven. Well, purgatory, at least.

“You’ll live.” She gently shoves me away from her just when I’m about to nuzzle between those perfect swells.

Goddamn, I’m a mess near her.

Her hands remain on the side of my head, pressing over my ears before they slowly retreat to my jaw. The soft heat of her palms seeps through the scruff I’ve started to sport. I glance upward.

Big mistake.

Those lake-blue eyes staring back at me, still glisten with moisture. Her gaze lowers to my mouth, and I lick my lips.

Maybe she needs to get laid as well. A little snogging in room twelve, and we’d both feel better.

Her warm hand curls under my chin, taking its time to glide over the stubble rasping against her palm. Her scent invades my nose. She has a meadowy fragrance mixed with something sweet, like honey. I can almost taste her on my tongue. Sticky. Sugary. Pure delicious bliss.

I bite the corner of my lip, and her gaze follows the motion. Her throat rolls.

“I didn’t answer your question.” My voice is rugged but quiet.

“I don’t remember what I asked.” Her smoky tone is just as rough.

“If there was anything I ever wanted for myself.” The clause hangs between us. I thought I had everything I wanted. A condo in downtown Chicago. A job where I rubbed elbows with the rich and famous. A company I was convinced would stand behind me until I could retire. And amongst all of that, I was getting laid on the regular.

But glancing up at Tessa, I’m no longer certain I ever had something that was truly mine. Or someone, for that matter.

The sound of metal zipping against metal breaks our staring contest. The teeth of the post whizzes through the small opening in the handle facet. A swift turn and the door pops free from closure. The sudden opening is like letting helium out of a balloon. The sexual tension between Tessa and I quickly dissipates. She flinches, bumping into the wall behind her because of the tight space.

“Hey.” Manny glances back and forth between Tessa and me. “Should I give you another minute, boss?” His eyes drop to my lap and then quickly avert. I press the heel of my hand to the seam of my pants. There’s no way to lessen the ache or quell the thickness jutting upward in these casual dress pants. Well, there is a way, and a bathroom is a good location, but still . . .

“He doesn’t need a minute,” Tessa states, squeezing past Manny through the now open door and rushing into the hall. “And I’m the boss.” She reminds the man who’s been doing odds and ends jobs around the place, charging her a small fortune for each project. I thought Manny was maintenance.

Tessa pauses in the hallway. She glances back at my face before dropping her eyes to the issue in my lap. Her mouth falls open and then snaps shut.

That’s right, sweetheart. You fucking turn me on, and I hate myself.