Bend

Our conversation is interrupted, a hand shooting in and catching the closing doors, the action stalling and then reversing their close. Three men step on. Not really men. What appear to be twenty year old boys, the smell of alcohol pressing into the car with them, their glassy eyes and curses preceding their entry. I see Brett’s eyes darken, the space between us suddenly full.

“What floor?” I ask the question when the doors close and their attention hasn’t moved, no button pressed, the elevator already starting an ascent.

Mistake. Their eyes move as one, locking on me, and the man closest to me stumbles, moving into my comfort zone. “What floor are you going to?” he slurs, the question causing encouraging laughter from his friends, one who casts a quick look in Brett’s direction.

“Leave her alone.” The tightness in Brett’s voice surprises me, and I look up to his face, caught off guard by the hard line of his jaw, the heat in his stare, his eyes on the men and not on mine. I want to reassure him, not that we are close enough that I would assume his protection. But it seems, from the stiffness of his body, his push off the wall and onto the balls of his feet, the iron in his tone, that he is ready to fight, to defend, to do all the u

The doors slide open, and I squeeze through the men, their steps slow to move, Brett’s arm knocking them back, grumbled curses following the action, a cowardly shout of rebellion sent out right as the doors once again close. We stand in the empty landing.

“Are you okay?” His eyes are dark, face tight. I glance down and see his fists clenched.

I laugh, press a light hand on his chest. “I’m fine. They were drunk. It would have been fine.”

He grips my forearms, walks me three steps backward, until I am against the wall, and he is close enough to kiss, his face tilted down to me. “Don’t assume that. Never assume that.”

Then he closes the gap, his fingers tightening on my arms, squeezing so tightly there is almost pain, his mouth possessive and rough at first contact but melting instantly, his hands loosening, ru

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to … restraint.” His hands suddenly release their grip on my hair, our co

He takes another step back, rubs his mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I’m not. I blush. “It’s fine. I didn’t exactly stop you.” I push off the wall, trusting my feet to hold me. I must move away. I want him so badly. What am I doing? My new slippers move me silently forward. Beside me, his hands disappear inside his pockets, his head cast down. I stop in front of my room, take a steadying breath, and turn to him. “This is it. Thank you.”

His right hand is outstretched, fist closed. I stare at it in confusion before I realize what he’s doing. I give him an exasperated smile and hold my hands out together, cupped beneath his fist, the chips falling into my palms with a dull clink. “I wanted to pay you for the slippers.”

He chews on his lip again, the move an apparent habit, and stares at me as if sorting out something in his mind. Silence draws out, thickness in the air between us. God, I want to suck on that lip. Grab it between my teeth and suck. I fight the urge to squirm, the need between my legs crawling up my stomach and dragging on my breasts with its want.

He finally speaks, breaking our eye contact as he looks away. “I don’t want your money. It was my pleasure.”

I feel ridiculous, both of my hands closed around the chips. Like I am a Chinese doll ready to bow in respect. He doesn’t seem pushy about coming in, my fears of wanton sluthood u

“Nah.” He leans one hand against the wall, the action bringing him a foot closer, still a safe distance away. “I’ll end the night while I’m up.” He pushes off the wall, holds out his hand, that gorgeous mouth stretching into a smile. “Nice to meet you, Riley.”

“Back ‘atcha Brett.” I shake his hand, releasing it quickly. Either I am imagining it, and am in serious danger of embarrassing the hell outta myself, or we are one slip away from headboard-banging a hole through to the next room.

I insert the key, push down the handle, and step in, giving him a small wave before gently shutting the door. It clicks, and I stare at the white wood. Somewhere, in the region between my legs, my sex drive sobs in despair. Okay, this is fine. I made it safely to the room, am now alone. Alone. No hot hands ripping at my clothes, his mouth hungry on my neck, his cock pressing against my skin before pushing deep and hard where I am in desperate need of it. Fuck. Somewhere, my brain bumps around and tries to find the place of reason where my decision is a good one. Surely this is the right move. I have retained my composure. I did not become that girl, the one who allowed horny desire to put her in harm’s way. Despite that man’s panty-dropping looks, chivalrous actions, and mypantiesarestillwet kissing ability, I don’t know him, he is a stranger. This is not Macon, Georgia. I do not know his parents, did not grow up sitting next to him on sticky bus seats. I can’t invite him in. Shouldn’t. Probably won’t. I rise to my tiptoes and look through the peephole.

He’s still there. Staring at the floor, the back of his hand to his mouth. He runs a hand through his hair, slowly, then with rough aggression. Then, suddenly, he’s gone. I look as far as I can, the peephole giving me a limited view of the world. I want to open the door, to peek outside and see him. To see whether he is striding confidently down the hall, or moving hesitantly on to the next part of his night. But I don’t. I drop my heels by the door, kick off the slippers, and take four steps, falling into the closest bed.

Chapter 3

I wake up thinking of Brett. The possessive grip of his fingers, the need in his mouth, the press of his body against me, the heat between our touch. The way my body had cried out and his had responded.

Circumstance brings me back to Earth, reminding me, with the cruel pairing of sunlight rays, that he left. Had the opportunity to escort me in, get my contact number or, at the least, rock my world with one more kiss. But instead he ran. Or rather, briskly walked. With a gentleman’s goodbye and nothing more.