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Something had gotten into me on that plane, though, and I had broken that rule. Maybe it had been the adrenaline from successfully maneuvering the plane through that fucked up storm. Maybe it had been something else. I didn't know, and at the moment in the cockpit, I didn't care.
I had asked Jess to have dinner with me, and when our flight had been delayed, we'd gotten the perfect opportunity to do just that. A quick Google search had helped me figure out where to take Jess, and for three hours, the two of us had sat in a restaurant, eating, drinking, and getting to know each other better. I had fully expected to come out of the date disenchanted with her, no longer interested in her in any way. I had been dead wrong.
I had been physically attracted to her from the moment I laid eyes on her, but now, I felt a more cerebral attraction as well. To put it plainly, I liked her. I liked her for more than just her tits and ass. There was something different about her, and it was something I wanted to delve a little deeper into.
If I had stopped to think about it for very long, I probably would have hauled ass in the opposite direction of her once I noticed my added level of interest. Instead, I did the exact opposite of that. As I escorted her into the elevator of our hotel, I slipped my hand around her waist, placing it on the small of her back. She flinched but didn't pull away.
“So, any chance you’re not completely tired yet?” I asked her.
“That depends,” she answered, somewhat cautiously. Her voice contradicted the way she swayed back slightly into the palm of my hand. “Why do you ask?”
“Because it turns out I’m not tired. I was earlier. I was fucking exhausted earlier. I’m pretty sure I could have slept for two days straight. Stressful flights do that to me.”
“But not now?” she asked. “You just stopped being tired?”
"It would appear so. I was wondering, if you aren't currently wishing you could sleep for a thousand years, if you might want to continue our evening for a bit? No hanky panky. I'm not trying to suggest anything like that, but maybe a drink? There's a fantastic mini-bar in my room. We could have another drink together if that sounds like something you might like."
What the hell was wrong with me? I had asked plenty of women to come into plenty of rooms with me. Every single time, I had asked with no good intentions. I had asked them into my room with the express intention of fucking their brains out, and I'd never been nervous during the asking. But now? For some reason, I could hardly get the words out, and once I did, I couldn't keep myself from rambling. The only reason I could come up with for the nerves was that I thought she would say no, but even that didn't explain it completely. Usually, I didn't care about a woman's response enough to be nervous, which in my experience had always helped me to get a yes.
“No hanky panky, huh? You sure about that?”
“I’m not sure why I used that term, I can tell you that much, but I am sure that I’ll respect your boundaries. I’m actually asking you if you’d like to have a drink. I’m not using the idea of a drink as a euphemism for anything. Nothing like that.”
“All right, a drink then,” she said. “I’ll have to go to bed eventually, seeing as we’re hopefully going to be flying tomorrow, but I don’t think a drink will hurt any.”
The euphoria that shot through me at receiving her yes was fucking ludicrous. It was just one more thing I couldn't make sense of. So instead of trying to, I ignored it. I had other things to think about, anyway, like the way Jess's ass looked as I followed her down the hotel hallway.
Sweet Jesus, had I just promised not to make a move on her? Had I really? I had, and that made me a stupid, stupid man. Even in her relatively simple dress, a dress not made to make a man think the dirty things going through my mind, she was clearly smoking hot. Her body was thick in all of the right places, the kind of body I wanted to grab with both hands and throw down on my bed.
When she looked over her shoulder and smiled at me, I could feel my dick start to grow instantaneously hard. I had fucked plenty of women in my life, and most of them had been hot, but I couldn't think of one that had looked better than Jess did. And I was the dummy who had promised not to touch her. If there were medals being handed out for stupidity, I deserved to be in the running for one of them.
“This is me,” I said gruffly, clearing my throat and pulling myself out of my filthy thoughts for long enough to stop Jess in front of my room. “Hold on.”
I let her inside and told her to make herself comfortable. Secretly, I wished that she would decide to make herself comfortable by planting herself on my bed, but when she took one of the room's overstuffed arm chairs, I wasn't all that surprised. There were the women who told you they would come in for just a drink and tried to take your pants off the minute you got them into the room, but Jess had never struck me as one of those kinds of girls.
“What’s your poison?” I asked.
“That depends,” she said. “What are you having?”
“I’m deciding between a glass of wine or a whiskey neat. I’ll let you decide.”
“Yikes, not to the whiskey neat,” she said. “I can’t stand whiskey, especially when it’s by itself. Glass of wine it is.”
I poured us two healthy servings of red wine. My body felt like a live wire in the momentary silence. Sexual tension was something I was used to. It was even something I had learned to use to my extreme advantage. But this was something else. I couldn’t have even said what kind of tension this was. All I knew for sure was that it was making me fucking nervous.
“Here you go,” I said, handing her a cup. “Cheers.”
“What are we toasting to?” she asked.
“To an unexpected night off?”
“Sure, I could drink to that.”
She smiled at me as she took a sip, but there was something about the smile that struck me as being a little sad. It was something I could easily have blown off and ignored. Ignoring it was exactly the kind of thing I would usually have done. Instead, I found myself gearing up to ask her about it. Not that I should have been surprised. Nothing about the way I had played tonight had been like my usual pattern of behavior. So why should this be any different?
“Not your favorite toast?” I asked.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
