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I’d seen her in less. In a bikini. Many times. But when she said she wanted to “wear her comfy clothes,” I assumed she wouldn’t need much more than little time to change, and that I wouldn’t need to stay away, waiting for her to fall asleep. But now she stood in front of me in yoga pants and a short tee with her hair in a messy bun, and I was tempted to turn around and walk away.
How the hell was she so damn sexy right now?
“Where did you get those?” she asked, eyeing my dark-chocolate-covered raisins. I knew she loved them, so as soon as I saw them in the gift shop, I took advantage of Cleo’s offer: anything I wanted for the inconvenience of switching rooms.
That turned out to be dark-chocolate-covered raisins.
“Gift shop,” I said, walking into the room.
Thankfully, it was larger than an average hotel room. A sitting area helped space things out. Opposite the king-size bed, a cot was set up with Thayle’s bag on it.
“You’ve got the bed,” I told her, setting our filled wine glasses on a coffee table.
“I’m fine with the cot.”
I gave her a ‘knock it off’ look, and she immediately grabbed her bag and moved it.
“Thought I’d at least offer.” She grinned, as if knowing I’d never in a million years have her stay there.
“Your wine is there,” I said, pointing to the table and opening my own luggage. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.” And then, because I know her like I know myself, “And no, I won’t make you drink alone. I’ll be out quickly.”
I felt like a complete asshole for abandoning her, but if I was going to last the night, I needed to cool down, put some space between us. After I jumped into the shower, knowing I really shouldn’t, I lowered my hand. Eyes now closed, I pictured her sitting beside me in the car—walking into the restaurant, hair down, in a different dress, this one short, black, and so simple it directed all focus to her beautiful face.
Ah fuck. It was not the first time I’d jerked off thinking of Thayle, and it wouldn’t be the last. But the thought of her sitting in the room next to me...another hard pump was all it took. This hadn’t been my intention when I decided to jump into the shower, but it was a damned good decision. After washing quickly, I hopped out and grabbed a towel, tossing it around me.
And then realized my mistake.
I had two choices: Ask Thayle to bring me the clothes I’d forgotten to bring with me, now sitting on top of my bag, or ask her to cover her eyes. How the hell had I managed this one? If I could have strung two thoughts together, I might not have been such an idiot in the first place.
I cracked the door. “Thayle?”
Silence.
I opened it some wider. “Thayle?”
Still nothing.
I’d grab my stuff quickly. Wherever she went, it couldn’t have been very far. The second I turned the corner into the room, though, she looked up from the bed. Sitting cross-legged, her wine on the nightstand, Thayle had earbuds in and was swaying to music I couldn’t hear.
I pointed to my clothes. She nodded, unflinching. I tried to imagine what I would have done if Thayle strolled out from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.
I probably would’ve needed another shower.
By the time I’d tossed on my sweats and headed back out of the bathroom, Thayle’s earbuds had been taken out and she was looking at her phone.
“Sorry about that,” I said, making my way to the wine. I grabbed my glass, flicked the switch to turn on the corner fireplace and sat on the oversized chair catty-corner to the bed, where Thayle sat, watching me. I’d have loved to know what she was thinking.
“No problem. I’ve seen you in less. Which reminds me...do you remember Marco’s light-blue swim trunks that one year?” She laughed, and I couldn’t help but think that sound should be bottled and sold in stores.
“How could I forget? The powder-blue striped ones that he claimed were ‘European’ but basically were like underwear?”
“Those are the ones,” she said, then pensively took a sip of wine, building up to what seemed like it would be a longer story.
I thought for sure this would be a lot more awkward than it was. Instead, sitting here with Thayle felt...comfortable. Right.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was Thayle’s tell. She did it when a customer came on too strong or when she got nervous, which was rare. But it happened, and was happening now.
“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” she said.
