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Dorian
Pacing had becomea fun new habit of mine. Right up there with a root canal.
I liked being productive, but while waiting to hear something from Briana, I'd started doing the most pointless time-wasting task there was: pacing. I went from one side of the living room to the other, then back again. Over and over. I didn’t have my phone as I walked because that would have been fucking sad. Instead, it sat on the top of the bar, where I could pretend that I wasn’t waiting for it to buzz. Where I could pretend I had other things on my mind.
At some point, I'd have to admit to myself that my plan of getting Briana out of my system was either taking a detour or backfiring entirely, because seeing her again, tasting her again, had only made me want her more.
Thus, me texting her fifteen minutes ago and asking her to come up to my room. Selfishly, I'd asked her to come on some sort of hostess errand even though it was a Saturday afternoon, and I didn't know if she had the day off to spend with her kid. If she told me she couldn't come, I'd let it go, but I wasn't quite altruistic enough to have gone through the hotel to find out if she was working or not.
In the text, I said I needed assistance with some business matters, which I figured was vague enough that she couldn't know for sure I was lying based simply on the content of the message. She probably knew I was lying anyway, but at least I had reasonable deniability.
When my phone finally buzzed, I forced myself to finish my lap around the room before I walked over to it. I half expected it to be Enzo since that seemed to be the type of luck I'd been having lately.
I'll be up in a few minutes.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, both because she was on her way and because that meant she was in the building, and I hadn't taken her away from her daughter.
I didn't like this side of me. The side that couldn't control myself where she was concerned. The side that craved her so desperately that I'd formulated an excuse to fly across the country just to see her. It was fucking ridiculous. I'd heard about people feeling this way, and I'd always thought they were foolish. Now I was the fool.
Less than five minutes later, Briana was knocking on my door. I took a second to compose myself, wanting to appear as calm and composed as possible. I was dressed casually in jeans and a button-down shirt. No shoes or socks because a part of me, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, was hoping to get her in bed again and it was easier to take off my pants if I wasn't wearing shoes.
“Hello,” she said as soon as I opened the door.
Her eyes were smudged with purple underneath, like she hadn't slept well the night before and the makeup she'd put on wasn't enough to hide them. A touch of concern must've leaked onto my face when I saw her because she sent a self-conscious glance toward the floor, and I immediately felt bad.
“Sorry that I look like crap. I had a rough night.”
I reached for her face, stroking my thumb over her cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth, and my body immediately responded. I couldn’t resist leaning in to breathe in her scent.
“You look beautiful,” I said. “Just like you always do.”
She blushed, and I felt her cheeks heat beneath my palm.
“So what can I help you with?” Her voice was steady, but she didn't meet my eyes. “You said it was a business thing?”
Business. Right.
I dropped my hand from her face to link my fingers through hers. “Yeah. Well, why don’t you come in?”
We stepped inside, and I closed the door behind us. When I texted her, I thought I’d be on her as soon as she came in the room, just like I had last night, but something felt different today. Before, there had been electricity still lingering in the air from our week in Hawaii, and it wasn’t that the spark was missing now, so much as it was I could see that something was off with her. Something had dampened that fiery part of her, and I wanted to know what it was.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked, striding toward the bar.
She sat down on the brown suede sofa and shook her head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
I poured myself a scotch since I was there, then went over to the couch and sat next to her. I wasn't quite close enough to be touching her, but it was close enough that she could initiate contact without it being weird. After a moment, she let out a shuddering sigh and leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder.
I didn't even think twice as I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in a little closer. “If you’re too tired…”
She shook her head. “No, no. There’s no place I’d rather be, actually.”
Rather than feeling cocky, her admission sent a wave of warm pride through me. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a surge of protectiveness overtaking me. “What’s wrong?”
“Just tired.”
She said it a little too quickly, leading me to believe that wasn’t the whole story. But before I could continue questioning her, she put her hand on my thigh. Her warm palm sent a bolt of desire through me, and my cock began to harden. Slowly, but without hesitation, she slid her hand higher, and then over so that she was cupping me through my pants.
I sighed her name as she rubbed her hand over my partial erection, sending more blood rushing in that direction. She turned her head and started placing gentle kisses on the bottom of my jaw. My neck. Just behind my ear. My head began to spin, and it had nothing to do with alcohol.
