AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sawyer, you—”
He thrusts his muscled arm forward, blocking me from handing my credit card to the clerk. His card is taken, and she swipes it quickly, perhaps wanting to end this bickering between us before it truly takes off.
Slanting me a sexy and serious look, he sighs. “Just because I work with these hands doesn’t mean I can’t afford a fancy room here.” He holds them out to me, emphasizing that I should check out those roughened long fingers and calloused palms. Sawyer bears the evidence of hard, manual work. I’m used to delicate, moisturized hands, but in stark contrast, I can only think about his hands on me.
I’m stunned silent, staring and wondering just what else he could do with those hands. Namely on me. Parts of him in me. A furious warmth spreads across my cheeks, and I’m so stuck in the fantasy of Sawyer touching me that I can’t care about how badly I’m blushing right now.
Stop. Not now! I shouldn’t entertain these wicked thoughts about him ever, but shutting off those filthier ideas is easier said than done.
While the reservation is sorted out, and Sawyer gets the key cards, I stand there to the side. Flustered and irritated with myself, I wait for him to turn away from the counter. In silence, awkward on my part because I can’t erase the idea of his hands on my naked flesh, we head toward the elevators and go up to find our room.
I can’t tell if Sawyer recognizes that I need the quiet or what, but I appreciate that he doesn’t tease or poke fun at me until after we’re in the room. After we enter and he sets my suitcase with his one small bag near the door, he still doesn’t speak.
We walk through the suite, and in unison, we glance through the doorway that leads to the one bedroom, then at the singular couch.
“You can take the bed.”
I nod at him, smiling quickly. “Thanks.” With another glance at the couch, I consider arguing, though. He’s so tall that I have no clue how he could fit on the sofa. It seems like a safer idea to simply not talk about where we will be sleeping. I’m not confident I’ll refrain from blurting out that I want to sleep with him, too weak to resist the visions in my mind after that blunt mention of his hands.
I remembered how hot his touch was at the cabin, and it’s a memory that only eggs me on to want more.
I hug myself, folding my arms over my stomach. Flapping one hand to my elbow, I tip up on my toes, then sink my heels back to the carpet. I’m fidgeting, and I hate it. I was raised to always be poised and proper, not shifting and antsy. Standing around in this suite with Sawyer, I suffer intense uneasiness.
What are we supposed to do now?
Should I say something about him taking the bed instead, even though that will only end in arguing?
Are we just going to stand around and avoid making eye contact?
Why is he avoiding making eye contact?
Is he thinking the same thing as me?
What if he’s envisioning us together on that one bed and—
“Kind of early, huh?” He mimics me, rocking back on his heels with his hands stuck in his pockets. His brows shoot up in question, and that cocky smirk is waiting on his lips.
“For what?” Sleeping together? I mentally groan at the thought, glad I have a censor not to speak it.
“Uh, anything.” He clears his throat, and I want to grin at the possibility that he feels just as intimidated by me as I do of him.
“Want to get something to eat?” I ask. When in doubt, food is always a good option. A snack. A drink. A meal. It’s too early for dinner, but for the lack of anything better to do, why not escape the stifling awkwardness of being alone with him in here and go out to eat?
“Sure!” He latches on to the suggestion so quickly that I’m more convinced he is equally off-kilter in here.
We head out to the nearest bar, located just across the street. The concert must be going on about now, though, because it’s surprisingly not busy or packed. Everyone must be at the venue, and I’m glad we don’t have to fight our way through a crowd.
Without throngs of people to get past, we get a table very easily, and once we settle into our seats, I take a good look around.
It’s so…different. I don’t feel like a true Parisian. I’m from New York. Still, I feel like a foreigner here because it’s all just so new. The country music playing from the speakers is upbeat and not too twangy. It’s not like anything I’ve listened to by choice, and I can’t help but nod along to it. The TVs in the corners offer distractions to watch. Even the LED displays on the gambling machines at the ends of the bar top entertain me. The bar is dark with wood and neon signs, and as I marvel at it all, I realize I’ve never actually gone to a hole-in-the-wall kind of place like this.
“You’re looking a little bewildered over there,” Sawyer comments without lifting his gaze from the laminated single-sheet menu he peruses.
“Not bewildered, just…” I shrug. “Entertained.” I’m used to fancy, boring restaurants where you don’t go to simply eat but to be seen. The high-end clubs I’ve frequented are nothing like this loud, rowdy, and fun place.
I smile and fold my hands together on the wooden table. “You order for me, okay?”
He raises his brows. “You want me to name your poison?”
