Page 128 of Spring Break Fling

It was past midnight, and the office was silent except for the hum of the HVAC system. Everyone else had long since gone home, leaving me sad and alone. I sighed and glanced at the time. Five hours until I had to be back here. Great.

I powered down my laptop and grabbed my coat, slumping on my way to the elevator like a zombie. The ride down felt like an eternity.

My phone buzzed. A text from Marianne: “How’s the big city? Surviving?”

I typed back quickly: “Barely. Pitch is tomorrow. Terrified.”

“You’ve got this,” she responded instantly. “Mom and Dad are proud of you.”

I smiled despite my exhaustion. My parents might drive me crazy sometimes, but they always showed up when it mattered. The time difference was hard to get used to, but it was nice for nights like this when I worked late.

My mind drifted to Nikko as the elevator started its slow descent. That was something else I had to get used to. Working in an office that made me feel like I was hanging out with the clouds. What would he say if he were here? Probably something sarcastic about corporate life, but he’d squeeze my hand and tell me I was going to nail it.

God, I missed him.

I stepped into the lobby of the building. It was eerily quiet. The security guard sat behind his desk, nodding as I walked by. I knew I wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil in the building. There was a law firm on the twelfth floor and another one on the twenty-first floor. It seemed like those people worked twenty-four hours a day.

When I finally stepped outside, the cool night air hit me like a slap. There was a light rain falling, making it feel even colder. New York cold was different than Boise cold. I was still a little nervous being in the big city alone at night, but I just had to trust I wouldn’t be the one to get mugged.

“Taxi!” I called out, waving my arm.

A yellow cab slowed to a stop. I climbed in and rattled off the address to my temporary home—well, my hotel. Clarke had promised me a luxury condo with a rooftop pool, a gym, and some kind of aromatherapy spa that sounded like a dream. Instead, I was stuck in a cramped hotel room with questionable plumbing and a mini fridge that buzzed loudly enough to drown out my own thoughts.

Living out of a suitcase was getting old fast. I needed to put down roots. I knew this job wasn’t forever, but I would be there long enough that my own space would be invaluable. The hotel room felt like a prison tonight. Nikko had warned me my boss didn’t give a shit about me, and it pissed me off he might be right.

I tossed my bag onto the bed and kicked off my heels, wincing as the muscles in my feet protested. The city lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting long shadows across the generic beige carpet. It would be one thing if he at least put me up in a nice hotel. But no. It was a step above a shit hole.

I was exhausted but I didn’t want to sleep in my business clothes. But I couldn’t bring myself to move. I had been running at full speed for nearly a month straight. Between packing and upending my life and then landing in New York, it felt like I was on a treadmill and couldn’t find the slow-down button.

My eyes closed despite me trying to keep them open. It was my body shutting off my brain and forcing me to sleep.

Nikko was there in my dreams. Not the angry, hurt Nikko who stormed out of my life in Boise, but the Nikko who made me feel like the world could crumble around us and it wouldn’t matter as long as we were together.

We were on a sun-drenched beach, his tattooed arms wrapped around me, his breath warm against my ear. We weren’t talking, just existing in the moment, tangled up in each other like we’d been made to fit this way. His fingers trailed along my jawline as he tilted my head back for a kiss, slow and tender, like he had all the time in the world.

We were stretched out on a blanket, the sand warm beneath us, the sound of waves crashing in the background. His hand slid under my shirt and cupped my breast. I moaned softly and arched my back, pushing my breast into his hand.

He leaned down and kissed me. My whole body tingled. I could feel the sun on my skin and his rough hands exploring every inch of me. He tasted like salt and beer, and it was the most delicious thing I’d ever experienced. His tongue danced with mine, teasing and taunting, driving me crazy. I could feel the blood rushing to my head, the sounds of the beach fading away. The only thing that mattered was him.

I was suddenly naked. The cool breeze washed over my skin. Nikko’s kisses turned desperate. I grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him close. His fingers slid over my heated core. I opened my legs and welcomed his touch. He touched and stroked until I was writhing beneath him.

I gasped as his fingers worked their magic, my mind spiraling into a haze of pleasure. The urgency of his movements reflected the desperation we’d once felt for each other.

When his body moved over mine, it felt like coming home. I was right where I was supposed to be. In his arms being loved by him.

It felt so real, so heartbreakingly real, that when I woke up at six, my heart was pounding and my eyes were wet. I lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling, trying to shake off the lingering haze of the dream. It had been orgasmic and beautiful. It was less about the pleasure and more about the way I felt in his arms.

I curled up in a ball, tears stinging my eyes. What had I done? I wanted to be in Miami. I wanted to be with him. I threw it away to prove some point. Stupid. Stubborn. Selfish. All of the above.

“Pull it together, Hannah,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.

I stumbled into the shower. The hot water felt good against my skin, but it didn’t wash away the memory of his arms around me. My body felt weak. My eyes were scratchy and burning from the lack of sleep.

I showered quickly, trying not to dwell on the fact that Nikko wasn’t there to hold me when I wobbled on my feet. Or give me a pep talk before a big day at work. He was probably asleep or passed out at some grimy bar, surrounded by guys who thought they were so edgy with their tattoos and their faux rebellion.

I ruined everything, I thought as I pulled on a black pencil skirt and blouse and did my makeup in the mirror. It was easier this way, right? Maybe he’d find someone better. Someone who didn’t want to change everything about him to fit into her corporate world.

I grabbed my briefcase and headed outside. Thankfully, Manhattan was not short on coffee stands, trucks, and shops.