Unwrapped
Page 8
“Sure,” I say quietly, a sting in my throat. I don’t know what I expected from him, but now I feel like a stupid little girl, all dolled up like this. I go quickly back to my bags, and dig out the phone charger. “Here,” I hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Daniel plugs in, and scrolls through his phone, ignoring me. I wait, painfully self-conscious as the seconds tick by.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t say another word. It’s like I don’t even exist.
Rejection wells up, and I bite my lip to keep it back. “I need a drink,” I announce, honest. “I’m going to the bar. You coming?”
Daniel makes a vague gesture, still keeping his eyes fixed on his phone. “I’ve got some emails to catch up on.”
“On Christmas Eve?” I ask.
“No rest,” Daniel gives me a brief, tense smile. “You go ahead.”
My heart falls. “See you later.”
I grab my purse and bolt from the room, not stopping until the elevator doors close behind me and I can finally let my fake smile drop.
What did you expect? I scold myself, miserable. The dress that moments ago had seemed so gorgeous now looks cheap and slutty in the mirrors. He doesn’t notice you. He never has. After all that time secretly wanting him, it should be clear as day: I’ll never be the girl for him, that sweet good girl he seems to want so much. I’m the last thing on his mind.
Damn, I need that drink.
***
The door closes behind Lacey. I let out a strangled groan, the breath I’ve been holding in ever since she stepped out of the bathroom and short-circuited every nerve in my system.
What the hell?
I sink down on the bed, still trying to recover from the sight of her in that dress: red silk whispering across her body, so goddamn sexy I thought I was going to come right there on the spot. That woman is a miracle, a walking, talking fantasy come to life, and I’m supposed to spend the night in the same room as her without losing my mind?
You are so screwed.
I fall back, staring at the ceiling. Goddamn. It was bad enough when we made it up here to the room, and she was standing there: her T-shirt clinging, wet to her body; her hair falling in damp tendrils over her eyes. I swear it took everything I had not to pull her down on the bed and show her everything she’s been missing out on, dating all those bad boy ass**les who don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Worshipping her body, inch by precious inch, until she’s molten under my hands, writhing, begging for release. No, Lacey doesn’t know what I could do to her — with her — the kind of pleasure that comes slow and hot and steady in the night, relentless, until she thinks she can’t take it anymore.
And then she had to walk out in that dress, like a neon ‘fuck you’ to my self-control.
I feel myself stiffen, hard at just the thought of her. Jesus, what a mess. We’re technically spending the night together, but here I am, crazy with wanting her, while she’s downstairs, alone in the bar.
Alone? You’re kidding yourself. Looking like that, she’s probably getting hit on by every cocky ass**le in the state …
I bolt to my feet, my whole body tensing at the thought of her with somebody else. No way, not on my watch. Before I can even think straight, I’m out the door and down the hallway. The elevator is taking its sweet time arriving, so I take the stairs instead, two at a time in my hurry to get down to the bar and …
What? Just what are you going to do? Throw her over your shoulder and take her back up to the room? Spend the night working through all those dirty fantasies you’ve been dreaming up, ever since moment you laid eyes on her again?
No. No way.
I stop short in the lobby, forcing myself to think it over: to be calm, and have a plan like always. This crazy lust I’m feeling is just that: crazy. There’s no way I’m hooking up with Lacey, it makes no sense at all. I’m just going to look out for her, that’s all. Like, a big brother would. That’s right. She’s stressed about the wedding, all in a fluster; I’m just making sure she doesn’t get in any trouble, dressed up like temptation and looking twice as fun.
I’ve got myself back under control by the time I stroll into the bar, but my whole body still tenses when I see her over in the corner, leaning flirtatiously against the bar and chatting to some slick douchebag in a designer suit. His eyes are stripping her naked, and even though I’m not a violent guy, I suddenly get a vision of slamming his face into the bar until he’s bleeding.
Whatever happened to cool, calm, and in control?
I clench my jaw in frustration. “There you are,” I stride over and take my place at the bar beside her. “You left so fast, I wasn’t sure you remembered our keycard.”
“Nope.” Lacey gives me a confused look, then turns back to the guy, quickly explaining. “This is my friend Daniel. The place was sold out, so we had to split a room.”
I’m distracted by the back of her outfit, the dress falling in a swoop over the bare of her back. I imagine how soft it would be to touch, what she’d feel like under my hands …
“Whiskey, straight.” I order, needing to snap the hell out of this. When I drag my focus back again, the Douchebag is telling the story of how he was heading back home from a corporate party in LA when he got snowed in too.
“He was on our flight too, I didn’t even notice.” Lacey smiles.
“But I certainly noticed you,” Douchebag gives her a slimy grin, and Lacey giggles.
“Thanks.” Daniel plugs in, and scrolls through his phone, ignoring me. I wait, painfully self-conscious as the seconds tick by.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t say another word. It’s like I don’t even exist.
Rejection wells up, and I bite my lip to keep it back. “I need a drink,” I announce, honest. “I’m going to the bar. You coming?”
Daniel makes a vague gesture, still keeping his eyes fixed on his phone. “I’ve got some emails to catch up on.”
“On Christmas Eve?” I ask.
“No rest,” Daniel gives me a brief, tense smile. “You go ahead.”
My heart falls. “See you later.”
I grab my purse and bolt from the room, not stopping until the elevator doors close behind me and I can finally let my fake smile drop.
What did you expect? I scold myself, miserable. The dress that moments ago had seemed so gorgeous now looks cheap and slutty in the mirrors. He doesn’t notice you. He never has. After all that time secretly wanting him, it should be clear as day: I’ll never be the girl for him, that sweet good girl he seems to want so much. I’m the last thing on his mind.
Damn, I need that drink.
***
The door closes behind Lacey. I let out a strangled groan, the breath I’ve been holding in ever since she stepped out of the bathroom and short-circuited every nerve in my system.
What the hell?
I sink down on the bed, still trying to recover from the sight of her in that dress: red silk whispering across her body, so goddamn sexy I thought I was going to come right there on the spot. That woman is a miracle, a walking, talking fantasy come to life, and I’m supposed to spend the night in the same room as her without losing my mind?
You are so screwed.
I fall back, staring at the ceiling. Goddamn. It was bad enough when we made it up here to the room, and she was standing there: her T-shirt clinging, wet to her body; her hair falling in damp tendrils over her eyes. I swear it took everything I had not to pull her down on the bed and show her everything she’s been missing out on, dating all those bad boy ass**les who don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Worshipping her body, inch by precious inch, until she’s molten under my hands, writhing, begging for release. No, Lacey doesn’t know what I could do to her — with her — the kind of pleasure that comes slow and hot and steady in the night, relentless, until she thinks she can’t take it anymore.
And then she had to walk out in that dress, like a neon ‘fuck you’ to my self-control.
I feel myself stiffen, hard at just the thought of her. Jesus, what a mess. We’re technically spending the night together, but here I am, crazy with wanting her, while she’s downstairs, alone in the bar.
Alone? You’re kidding yourself. Looking like that, she’s probably getting hit on by every cocky ass**le in the state …
I bolt to my feet, my whole body tensing at the thought of her with somebody else. No way, not on my watch. Before I can even think straight, I’m out the door and down the hallway. The elevator is taking its sweet time arriving, so I take the stairs instead, two at a time in my hurry to get down to the bar and …
What? Just what are you going to do? Throw her over your shoulder and take her back up to the room? Spend the night working through all those dirty fantasies you’ve been dreaming up, ever since moment you laid eyes on her again?
No. No way.
I stop short in the lobby, forcing myself to think it over: to be calm, and have a plan like always. This crazy lust I’m feeling is just that: crazy. There’s no way I’m hooking up with Lacey, it makes no sense at all. I’m just going to look out for her, that’s all. Like, a big brother would. That’s right. She’s stressed about the wedding, all in a fluster; I’m just making sure she doesn’t get in any trouble, dressed up like temptation and looking twice as fun.
I’ve got myself back under control by the time I stroll into the bar, but my whole body still tenses when I see her over in the corner, leaning flirtatiously against the bar and chatting to some slick douchebag in a designer suit. His eyes are stripping her naked, and even though I’m not a violent guy, I suddenly get a vision of slamming his face into the bar until he’s bleeding.
Whatever happened to cool, calm, and in control?
I clench my jaw in frustration. “There you are,” I stride over and take my place at the bar beside her. “You left so fast, I wasn’t sure you remembered our keycard.”
“Nope.” Lacey gives me a confused look, then turns back to the guy, quickly explaining. “This is my friend Daniel. The place was sold out, so we had to split a room.”
I’m distracted by the back of her outfit, the dress falling in a swoop over the bare of her back. I imagine how soft it would be to touch, what she’d feel like under my hands …
“Whiskey, straight.” I order, needing to snap the hell out of this. When I drag my focus back again, the Douchebag is telling the story of how he was heading back home from a corporate party in LA when he got snowed in too.
“He was on our flight too, I didn’t even notice.” Lacey smiles.
“But I certainly noticed you,” Douchebag gives her a slimy grin, and Lacey giggles.
