I pad down the hall and into the plush bathroom, all marble and glass, with a few masculine grooming products lined neatly on the counter. Like a total creeper, I pick up his cologne, spray it, and close my eyes as the scent he uses fills the air.
I’m just looking for the extra toothbrush, at least I tell myself that as I open all the drawers under the counter. I find the toothbrush—and more.
Condoms. My emotions swing on a pendulum. Jealousy at the thought of Chase using those condoms with another woman. Excitement at the thought of Chase using them with me.
It’s embarrassing to be a virgin at twenty-five. I’ve never had a boyfriend long enough to do the deed. And casual sex is just not my thing. Sex is too intimate, too important, too exposing, for me to engage in with someone I don’t trust implicitly. When I was younger, my virginity wasn’t a big deal. I figured there’d be time to find the right guy. But as each year passes, it becomes more of a burden.
Now, even if I want to have sex just to get rid of my virginity, the V-card makes it harder. I don’t want to be fumbling around clueless, in possible pain. Or worse—what if I bleed on the guy? Plus, whomever I choose to “deflower” me will probably think I’ve been saving myself for love and make it a bigger deal than it might otherwise be.
Maybe the romantic in me does want to wait for love, but the sensible part realizes that there won’t be a prince coming to sweep me off my feet and divest me of my virginity anytime soon. Chase would be better than any prince, but my chances with him are probably just as far-fetched as with royalty.
After brushing my teeth, I stare at myself in the mirror. There isn’t much I can do with my bangs that are sticking up at odd angles, but I smooth them as best as I can. My cheeks are full of color—I can thank Chase for that—and my eyes are bright with excitement. I bite my lips, wishing I had a touch of gloss, and stick out my tongue at my reflection.
Padding back down the quiet hall, I stop at the entrance of the living room. Chase is at the window, framed by the falling rain and looking every inch a movie star.
As if sensing my presence, he turns, smiling. The warmth in his eyes is my undoing. Setting aside my insecurities, I can’t help smiling back at him like a lovesick girl.
“The bathroom is all yours. I found the condoms in the drawer.”
Crap! Double crap!
“Toothbrush! I mean, I found the toothbrush!” I correct in a rush.
I should stop there. But Chase’s smirk makes me even more nervous, and the horrifying word vomit just keeps coming.
“I found the condoms, too, but I didn’t mean to tell you that. I didn’t mean to snoop. It’s none of my business. None. Please forget I said that,” I plead and take a deep breath, hoping oxygen will eventually find my brain and make me shut up.
Chase says nothing, just strolls toward me like a jungle cat on the prowl. Even his smile feels predatory. I stand at the edge of the narrow hallway, frozen as he approaches me, his strong body brushing up against me.
My body catches fire with every part of him that touches every part of me. He pauses as we stand next to each other, flanked by the walls, my skin a live wire of nerves.
“There are some things I can’t forget, Olivia.” His breath is a breeze against my ear.
A dimple flashes in his cheek. I hold my breath until he oh-so slowly moves past me.
When he passes, I let out a long breath, sagging against the wall. It holds me up as I watch Chase stroll toward the bathroom, admiring his long legs, broad back, and that ass.
Damn that ass, I think. I scrub a hand in front of my face as the door shuts and then the shower turns on, and I imagine how he must look naked. It makes me whimper. I may not survive the day.
CHAPTER 16
Chase
Being stuck in a hotel suite with Olivia is like being in heaven, while on a fast track to hell. The more time I spend with her, the guiltier I feel for lying by omission and not telling her about my double life as her pen pal.
But growing up on the streets, you learn to not throw away fleeting moments of grace. So today, I’ve decided to just enjoy it all and worry about the devil to pay tomorrow.
We call down to the front desk, and the concierge sends up a Scrabble set, which we plan on playing later, and enough snacks and junk food to last for weeks. Sometimes, it’s good to be a movie star.
“It’s your turn,” I prompt.
We sit on the floor cross-legged, facing each other.
“Shh, I’m deciding.” She leans over to steal a peanut M&M from the bag in front of me and pops it into her mouth.