Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Bennett? Is that you?”
“What the fuck?” His voice grumbled clearer through the open space. Looking down, I found him slumped against the door. He’d been using it to keep upright, and fell back when it moved.
I pushed him and the door forward to unlatch the safety chain, then opened the door wide.
Bennett followed right along, his weight pushing the door open until he was sprawled out, lying flat on the floor—the top half of him in my room, his legs outside in the hallway. He went hysterical laughing.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. Then it dawned on me that he could be ill and in need of medical attention. “Shit.” I leaned down in a panic. “Are you okay? Does something hurt?”
The smell of alcohol answered in the absence of actual words.
I waved a hand in front of my nose. “You’re drunk.”
He flashed the sexiest crooked smile. “And you’re fucking beautiful.”
Not exactly what I expected.
I stepped around his body on my carpet and looked up and down the hall. No one else was out there.
Bennett pointed up at me with his entire face joining in for a dirty smirk. “I can see up your dress.”
I had on a long T-shirt that barely reached my thighs. And he was looking up at my underwear. I pulled the material tight at the hem and pressed my legs closed.
“What’s going on? Did you think this was your room or something? You’re two doors down, the room next to the elevator, remember?”
He reached up, and his fingers skimmed my thigh. “Come on. Let me see ’em again. They were black and lacy. My favorite kind.”
Warmth spread up my legs from the feel of his fingers on my skin. But my heart was smart enough to remember what he’d done earlier. I pushed his hand away. Which he found amusing.
“You don’t like me, do you?”
“At the moment, no.”
“That’s okay. I like you.”
“Bennett, do you want something, or do you need help getting back to your room?”
“I came to apologize.”
That thawed my ice a little. But he was drunk, so I couldn’t be sure he knew what the hell he was sorry for.
“Apologize for what?” I asked.
“For being a dick. For acting like a jealous boyfriend.”
I sighed. “What was your problem tonight?”
A goofy grin spread across his face. “Toby boy shouldn’t have been touching you. I was angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
More of my guard came down. “It’s fine. I guess on some level I can appreciate your chivalry, wanting to stick up for me.”
He found that comment amusing, too. “Chivalry. That’s something I’ve never been accused of.”
Bennett reached out and put his hand on my bare foot. He traced figure eights with his finger. God, his touch felt good, even there.
He stared down, watching his hand draw, while he continued to speak. “I’m sorry, Texas.”
For some stupid reason, the use of my nickname softened me. “It’s okay, Bennett. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t let it happen again. Okay?”
He stopped drawing and covered the top of my foot with his palm. His thumb reached up and stroked my ankle. I felt it between my legs.
“It will, though,” he whispered. “It will happen again.”
My brain had become distracted by the way his simple touch radiated all over my body, so I didn’t follow what he was saying.
“What will happen?”
“I’ll act like that again. I can’t help it. You know why?”
I wasn’t sure I cared as long as that thumb kept stroking my ankle.
“Hmmm?”
“Because I was jealous.”
My jaw dropped. I had to be misinterpreting what he was saying. “You were jealous about what?”
He looked up from the floor and our eyes locked. “About him touching you.”
“But why?”
“Because I want to be the one touching you.”
I suddenly became acutely aware that I was standing in only a T-shirt.
“I need to put some pants on.” The door to my room was still open, with half his body in the hall. “Can you pull your legs in so I can close the door and grab something to wear?”
He managed to bend his knees and lift them enough so the door would shut, but he didn’t get up from the floor. He also didn’t let go of my foot. The sound of the lock clicking closed rang out extra loud, followed by silence. I remained painfully aware that I was half naked, Bennett was touching my leg, and the two of us were very alone in my hotel room.
I tugged my foot from his hand and hurried to my suitcase to find the sweats I should’ve put on before opening the door in the first place. Digging them out, I rushed to the bathroom.
Jesus. I scared myself, catching my reflection in the mirror. Bedhead, smeared makeup, puffy, tired eyes with dark circles—I looked like a homeless person. Mascara ran down one of my cheeks and—I leaned forward for a closer look—was that drool dried to the side of my face?