Unexpectedly Yours (Page 13)
I grin. “Hey, it was your idea!”
He’s still laughing as he takes my hand and starts walking, and, too soon, we’re back at the hotel. I step inside the lobby, glad to be out of the cold. Snowy weather may be magical, but my face is frozen, and I can see in the mirrored wall that the tips of my ears are bright red.
“Hold on a sec,” Austin says. He quickly heads over to the front desk and exchanges a few words with the woman on duty.
My nerves return. This is it. The moment I have to decide: if I’m going to let this unexpected, magical night end right now—or risk ruining the memory forever.
I watch Austin smiling and flirting with the woman, and reality crashes through me like lead. I’m out of my league here. He’s handsome and charming and experienced, and I’m not. Not even close.
Austin finishes up with whatever he’s doing and returns to me.
“What was that about?” I ask, stalling.
“Nothing,” he says casually. “Just some paperwork. I’m all yours.”
The elevator arrives, and we step in. The doors close. “Aw, look at you,” Austin smiles. “Your ears are all red.”
He lifts his hands, cupping them on either side of my face. I shiver at his touch. Slowly, he draws me to him, until I can feel the heat of his body, the hard planes pressed against my thighs.
“So…” he begins, dipping his head to gently kiss my cold cheek. His lips are warm, searing my chilled skin. “How about we go get you warmed up?”
My mind spins from his nearness. I struggle to clear my head. Think!
He gently bites down on my earlobe, and all logic flies out the window. I sink against him with a sigh, feeling shivers of desire snake down my body.
He chuckles. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
But what about Matt? part of me demands. You only just broke up with him. This is textbook avoidance…transferring your feelings…denial—
“Oh,” I gasp, as Austin’s hands slide under my coat, gripping tightly around my waist. He pushes me firmly back until I’m pressed against the elevator wall. Then his mouth finds mine, and there’s no room for thinking, not with the heat rising and my body aching and his tongue probing deep and delicious between my lips.
I want him. Now.
I practically carry Sophie out the elevator and down the hall to my room. I swipe the keycard without looking, still caught up in her sinfully sweet kisses and the lush feel of her body in my hands.
I shove the door open, drag her inside, and kick it shut behind us.
“Whoa.” Sophie stops dead, looking around. “This is…ridiculous!”
I kiss her neck, my hormones still raging. “It’s nice enough,” I murmur, stripping her coat off and tugging her back against me. That’s better. The fewer layers of bulky winter clothing separating me from that gorgeous body, the better.
“Nice enough?” Sophie echoes, breaking away. She takes a few more steps inside the room and laughs. “This place is bigger than my whole apartment back home!”
I catch my breath, watching her explore. Thanks to Patrice downstairs, I’m set up in the penthouse suite, with a big living room and separate bedroom. Sophie goes to the windows, taking in the neon sprawl of the city lights. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmurs.
The view’s pretty good from where I’m standing too.
“So,” she turns back to me, looking like a deer in the headlights. She’s nervous, I realize, and suddenly I can tell she’s not used to moving so fast.
Even though I want to throw her down on that king-sized bed, I force myself to relax. “You want another drink?” I ask, strolling to the minibar. “Look, they even have your favorite,” I joke, holding up a tiny bottle of Malibu.
She smiles. “I think I’ll stick to something simpler this time. Maybe some white wine?”
I pass her a demi-bottle and mix myself a Jack and coke. She collapses on the huge corner couch with a whoosh. “You’re lucky I’m still on California time,” she tells me, gulping her wine. “Otherwise I’d be fast asleep by now.”
I check my watch. Midnight. “Me too,” I admit.
“What? I thought you rock-and-roll types are always partying ’til dawn.” Sophie kicks off her heels. I settle beside her, lifting her stockinged feet and placing them in my lap. They’re cool to the touch, even through the silk, so I rub one gently.
Sophie moans, and sinks her head back in the pillows. “Yes,” she breathes. “That feels so good.”
I didn’t think it was possible to get so turned on giving a foot-rub. I was wrong.
I put my drink down on the sofa table and turn my full attention to her feet, increasing the pressure as I explore the delicate arch and bones of her ankles, loving the little sighs of pleasure that slip from her lips…
Sophie opens her eyes, looking at me. “I can’t figure you out,” she says, her forehead creasing in a frown.
“Me? I’m an open book,” I laugh, relaxing.
She shakes her head. “You’re smart and charming, and drop-dead gorgeous.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “You should be an asshole. Why aren’t you an asshole?”
I reach over and pluck the wine from her hand. “You’re a lightweight,” I smile.
“No, I’m a psych major,” she corrects me. “And men who get validated by the world the way you do, usually turn into entitled, careless, selfish people, because they never have to work for people’s approval.”