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The room smelled faintly of lilacs, a familiar scent. The wooden bed, large and looming, sat in the center. A small chair in the corner matched the outdated carpet in a pattern of bold and bright geometric shapes.

“Yeah, he worked maintenance here,” I replied, dropping my bags on the floor and moving to shut the blinds.

Eleanor hummed softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her gaze lingered on me, softer than I’d ever seen it, filled with something deeper.

“You know, she was pretty happy to see you,” she said, her voice gentle. Her expression was almost wistful—a smirk followed by a head tilt—as if there was a thought behind her eyes that she wasn’t quite ready to share.

That look of vulnerability on her face stirred something inside me, something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

“I have an effect on people,” I grumbled, sinking into the small chair, putting as much distance as possible between Eleanor and me.

In a space this confined, knowing we’d be stuck here all night, I had to keep myself in check. If I had my way, we would have no reason to leave this room until morning. Maybe this was my chance to have my fill of her before everything between us ended—before she returned to the city for good, leaving this trial of us behind, a distant memory I don’t know if I’d ever be able to shake.

I wasn’t sure if she thought the same, but it didn’t matter. It’s what it had to be. Our jobs—our lives—were on separate sides of the country.

As much as she drove me crazy with her demanding and sharp-tongued ways, I liked it. I looked forward to the next smart remark from her perfect mouth, and that scared me. I didn’t scare easily.

“You sure do have an effect,” she quipped, her eyes gleaming. “Not usually to the point people run toward you, though. More like away.”

For the second time in the last ten minutes, she managed to pull a laugh from me. Why was I laughing so much?

Eleanor smiled down at her lap, looking a little bashful yet triumphant, as if getting me to laugh had been a goal she’d just checked off.

“So, since you know the area so well, what is there to do around here?” she asked, leaning back on the bed, propping herself up on her arms.

“There’s one bar within walking distance,” I said with a shrug. “Other than that, not much. Well, besides the rodeo.”

Her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint as she bit her lip. “I don’t think I’m ready for the rodeo. But a bar within walking distance? Now that sounds like exactly what I had in mind.”

She glanced at her phone, adding, “And it’s practically dinner time. Does this small-town bar serve food?” She stood up, practically bouncing to her suitcase like a kid on the last day of school.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever ordered their liquor,” I replied.

“Well, let’s go, Mr. Stone. Let’s see what the night has ahead of us.”

Eleanor disappeared into the bathroom, and time seemed to slip away as I scrolled through emails, waiting. The sound of the door clicking open snapped my attention back.

She stepped out wearing nothing but jeans, red boots, and a red lace bra—the same kind she wore the night we met. My mouth went dry, and my throat tightened at the sight of her. The way her jeans hugged her hips, the rosy color of her nipples just peeking through the lace made me want to throw all caution away and spend the night exploring each other until we were utterly spent.

Eleanor cleared her throat, hip popped out with her gaze fixed on me as I watched her.

“Looking at me like that is lethal,” she said as she squatted down by her suitcase, her jeans dipping low, and my body reacted instantly. I had to shift, adjusting myself, trying to keep control.

Eleanor caught me. She threw a smirk over her shoulder, the kind that could only be described as devilish. Her eyes flicked down, lingering on my reaction. “I was starting to miss your cock,” she purred, biting her lip.

A groan escaped me as I closed my eyes, trying to regain composure. That was the wrong move. The next thing I knew, her breath was on my face. When I opened my eyes, she was leaning in, her hands on the armrest of my chair, way too close.

Her dark eyes held me captive, and I nearly whimpered at the hunger in them. My gaze dipped to her chest, perfectly filling the lace.

“Jesus,” I muttered, reaching out to place a hand on her bare side. Her skin was soft and smooth and felt so damn good under my touch.

I wanted her—no, needed her. The ache I’d tried to suppress roared back to life, stronger than ever.

This woman was going to be the death of me. Between her mouth and that body, I was putty in her hands, ready to be molded any way she pleased.

I’d never felt the urge to give a woman whatever she wanted, but for Eleanor, I didn’t think there was a thing I wouldn’t do.

She hummed at my touch, her eyes rolling back into her head like she was playing mental images of all the things we could be doing on this armchair. The reaction—the way she looked almost ready to break—made my cock pulse.