“Kind of. I have to get going,” I say, my pulse still racing from the kiss.
He catches my hand.
“Come upstairs with me. One more drink, in private, before the evening ends.”
Reluctantly, I pull away.
“I’m sorry, but I really can’t stay.” I stand before I can change my mind. “It was nice meeting you.”
He blinks, like he can’t believe I’m really going. And before he can ask me again to stay –tempt me with that wicked mouth— I grab my purse and bolt.
Rob meets me by the doors, and takes my elbow. “You were amazing! I got everything I need.”
"Great," I answer faintly, feeling totally off-balance.
I follow him outside. “You need a ride?” Rob asks, nodding towards a parking lot down the street. “I can drop you at Callie’s.”
“No, it’s fine. I think I’m going to walk a bit.” It’s a beautiful night, and besides, I need some time to pull myself together. My reaction to Andrew was chemical, physical. Exciting. And wrong to take further.
“Suit yourself. Tell your cousin, she’s got competition!” He winks, then walks away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk outside the hotel.
Thinking about the man I just met.
I know nothing about him. Yet he intrigued me, turned me on and made me feel outside of myself.
“You forgot this.”
I turn. Andrew holds my scarf in one hand. It must have fallen out of my purse.
“Oh, thanks,” I stumble, surprised to see him. I reach for it, but he pulls it back, then catches my wrist.
“One more drink.” His low tone is a demand.
My nipples pucker. I know what will happen if I agree. It’s foolish and risky and simply bad judgement to let him take me upstairs. I’m not that girl. Even if, maybe, I wanted to be. For one night, with him.
“Andrew, I really have to go—”
“Then at least let me say goodbye first.”
His hands cup my face, pulling me into him as his lips crash onto mine. My breasts press against his hard chest, my hips sinking into his and the clash of our bodies electrifies my thoughts.
All I want is him. This.
I pull away, breathless yet panting. “One drink,” I agree.
We both know it’s a lie.
You can be anyone in a hotel.
The moment you walk inside, you can choose to be yourself, or, if you’re daring, play out a fantasy you’ve kept tucked away. Whenever I’m inside The Drake or an equally luxe location, I get a haughty rise inside that says, yes, I belong to this wealth, this luxury, even when I clearly don’t. The inner fantasy that I’m born to this lavish lifestyle takes hold of me. For that burning moment, I’m not Juliet Evans. I’m someone important; glamorous.
Now, as I step back through the gleaming doors, I’m transported into a new kind of fantasy, something sexier than I’ve ever dreamed. Andrew holds my hand, leading me across the lobby. My mind begins to race with a hundred questions and doubts and possible outcomes of this evening.
I have to slash them down with a mental machete, because if I don’t, I’ll be overwhelmed and call this off before the adventure even begins.
It’s just one drink, I tell myself. That’s what he’s offered, and that’s all I have to accept. Alcohol may be a nice gift wrap for sex, but I’m only taking Andrew at face value, so a drink is, indeed… a drink. I haven’t promised anything else, and he hasn’t asked.