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That quiets me down. I should be enjoying this ride, the closeness of our bodies, how I could just take half a step and fall right into him. But instead, I’m playing over and over again what he said in my mind.
Boys. Not men. Boys. He called the group back at the restaurant boys, too, though I could have passed that off as him deliberately insulting them or referring to their mental age. But he didn’t mean that, did he? He meant to call them boys because that’s what they are to him. Practically children.
And I’m even younger than they are.
It brings me crashing back to earth. He’s in his late thirties, and I’m only eighteen. He must look at me and just see a kid. It’s not even surprising, given the fact that he’s seen me since I was a young kid. I guess he can’t see how much I’ve grown, or how I’m older now.
We exit the elevator and walk the short distance down the hall to my door, pausing a little awkwardly in front of it. I hold up my door keycard between us as if it’s a talisman. “This is me,” I say, trying to say it lightly and instead only ending up sounding nervous.
“Have a good night, Gabby,” Oz says. “I hope your experience of London so far doesn’t put you off too badly.”
“Not at all,” I say, allowing myself to smile at least at this. “I had a really great time today. I mean it. Even with what happened.”
Oz smiles back. He hesitates as if searching for the right etiquette, one arm seeming to want to reach out towards me. At last, it lands on the side of my shoulder, sliding down my arm a little with a reassuring squeeze.
“Enjoy your tours,” he says. “I should let you get some rest. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I reply, almost whispering it, finding my voice failing me at the last moment as I watch him walk back to the elevators.
Chapter Ten
Oz
It doesn’t take me long to get back home, but even so, I find myself looking up in surprise and wondering how I got here. I don’t remember a single step after leaving that hotel lobby. I must have moved completely by muscle memory – which is a little terrifying, given the distance I crossed in the dark.
I sink down on the couch in my living room, letting my keys clunk onto the table without paying any attention to where I’m leaving them, and drop my head into my hands.
What a day.
I don’t know that I ever spared much more than a passing thought to Gabby before today. Gabriella. She was just Dean’s daughter. A figure in his life, but not so much in mine. A part of the background.
And how can it be that now, she’s the only thing I can even see, despite the fact she’s no longer in front of me?
I replay the day’s events in my mind’s eye. That first moment seeing her, not knowing it was her. Her beautiful figure in that tight white dress, her hips swaying side to side as she walked, the way it made me want to grab hold of her there and then. And later, when we met in the lobby, I saw that it was her. The initial surprise, the way it was followed by a burst of lust so strong it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
I want her. I’ve wanted her all day. The things I would do to her…
In my mind’s eye, I can see myself going back there. Marching right up to her hotel room door and knocking. In my imagination, she’s still just as she was, as though only a moment has passed. Maybe even waiting on the other side, knowing that I would come back for her, that I couldn’t possibly walk away.
And why had I walked away?
I can see myself pushing her into the room and slamming the door closed behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. Tearing that white dress right off her body, and unveiling it in its full glory. I can only imagine what she looks like based on what I’ve seen on the outside, but damn if I don’t already know she would be the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
In my fantasy, she’s not wearing any underwear, even though I know she must be. I just want to rip that fabric out of the way and have her ready for me, ready to claim. I would take her there and then, not even bothering to make our way over to the bed, unable to move a single step for the delay it would cause…
Damnit. I shake my head and get up, trying to rouse myself from this intense craziness that seems to have come over me. Why am I feeling like this? I don’t have these types of fantasies – at least I haven’t for a long time, and definitely not this intense. It’s like I can almost taste her with my eyes closed. Or at least, dream of how she would taste. I don’t do this.
