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“I think it means you need to workout more.”
“If you know of a place that lets you practice carrying around drunk girls, sign me up.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He turns his head to smirk at me, at the same time I lean my weight forward over his shoulder. My nose and cheek brush the soft skin under his eye, and I can see the flecks of green in his irises. He stops abruptly but doesn’t break my gaze.
“Is the ride over?” I mumble quietly as he releases his grip on my legs. I slowly slide down his back, his hands never leaving my body as they slide up my leg, to my thigh, resting on my hip before he turns around.
“This is your room, I think?”
I look up at the door and see the familiar number. “Oh, right.” I swallow hard. “Where’s yours?”
He ushers behind him with a thumb over his shoulder. “Just a few down the hall. Practically neighbors.”
I exhale a chuckle through my nose that he probably can’t hear as I open my clutch to retrieve the room key. “Thanks again…for tonight.” I say, turning to meet his gaze. “I had…fun. Fun is probably an understatement…I had more fun tonight that I’ve had in years, to be honest. How sad is that.” I chuckle awkwardly, waiting for him to laugh at my expense but he doesn't. Instead, he continues to stare, and his body moves a step closer. He looks down at me, lips parted as he speaks softly.
“Let me take you on a date, Megan. A real date—dinner, drinks, some more dancing, whatever you want.”
“Jim,” I plead, shoulders slumping. “I can’t. It’s not you, it’s—"
“Oh God. Did you just try to hit me with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line?”
I reach out to grab an arm as he lurches back. “I swear that’s true!” I drop my purse on the floor, faintly hear the contentsspilling out as my other hand comes up to grab onto both of his strong biceps and pull him towards me. I pull hard, dragging his body so it’s pressed up against mine and we are face to face. “Trust me on this one, you don’t want to date me.”
“And if I do?”
I look up into those eyes, study his nose that’s just slightly larger than what’s considered fit for his face but somehow gives him a more masculine edge.
“I can’t go on a date or potentially get into a relationship, even if there are things I might…want,” I say, reaching my hand up to clasp the back of his neck.
“Hmmm?” He mutters, moving his head down to rest his forehead on mine.
“What if we could just have tonight?” I whisper into the space between us. “Whatever happens, whatever we want…just one ridiculous night where I can let go, where I can feel out of control and free from life’s stressors and just…be...”
“What if I want more than one night?” He mutters, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me towards him. His fingertips curl, biting into my soft flesh, and my lower body rolls into him upon instinct.
I shake my head no before the words are completely out of his mouth. “I can’t do that, only one night. Just tonight.”
“Meg,” he sighs, releasing his grip.
A wave of rejection and disappointment fills my head so fast, I shove off of him, stooping down to gather my discarded purse and items. “Never mind,” I mutter. “Forget I said anything.” I stand up, turning towards the door to slide my key card in when I feel a hand reach out to grip the nape of my neck. I’m forced back around, pulled against that rock hard body I’ve admired all night and Jim’s mouth is nearly on mine. The heat between us makes me dizzy with lust, and I grab onto his arms for balance.
“Did I say no?” He growls.
“You didn’t say yes,” I spit back, determined to keep the attitude he apparently likes.
A hand comes up to grasp my jaw, gentle enough to be trusting, but firm enough to turn me on. “What do you want, Meg? Do you want me to fuck you all night long? Do you want to wake up tomorrow sore between your legs, voice worn from screaming my name?”
My core clenches at his statement.
“Is that what you want, Meg?” he asks again, that grip on my jaw loosening and his thumb now brushing soft strokes down my cheek. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
I nod my head in response.
“Say it,” he demands. This rough and cocky side of him coming out to play turns me on more than I ever imagined.
Swallowing hard, I give him the answer he’s prodding for. “That’s what I want.”
“Good.” He drops his hands and pulls away, the cool air coming between us, and the world starts up again. The elevator hums as it lands on our floor, a ping when the doors open. The wind from the AC unit runs through the vents above our heads. Laughter echoes from a group of drunks behind closed doors. Sounds I hadn’t heard when I was pressed up close against him, breathing in his cologne and musk and the mint on his breath.
Jim walks down the hall and passes two doors before stopping and opening his. He stands there, gaze locked on me, foot cocked to keep the door open, giving me one last silent opportunity to prove this is what I want. With a flip of my hair and a tick of my hip, I sashay down the hall towards his room.
