by Julia Bevan
Chapter 5
Josie
The hotel keycard is small and flimsy but oddly heavy in my pocket. I can feel it shifting around every time I move towards the water that the waitress had brought at some point while the unknown man and I were wrapped up in one another. I can still feel his hands on my body, pulling me gently up against him as we rocked together... A shiver rolls slowly up my spine, making my throat tight. Was I going to go to his room? Would I be that brave? On any other night, I would never have even considered such a thought. "There you are, sis!" Ben calls in shock, pushing through the people to approach me as I whip around in surprise to face him. He extends his arms towards me and I leap into his embrace, squeezing him tight. After spinning me in a circle, he set me down against the floor and then stumbled slightly to the side. With a laugh, I reached out and helped steady him. Somebody's had a few drinks tonight, that much is clear. Then again, so have I. "I didn't expect you to actually come!" he continues with delight and booze bright in his eyes. His face is flushed red from the alcohol, and I can smell it on him like it's seeping from every single pore on his body. I'm almost positive that he has hockey practice the next morning and I'm going to have to guess it won't be his best one of the season. "I promised you I would," I grin back. "I can't believe how long it's been since we hung out last! You look great, by the way. Let me introduce you to some of the guys." He takes my hand, pulling me after him through the crowd until we reach a group of men clustered together. I can tell they're hockey players by their muscled build, but their expressions are all very kind. "This is Max, James, and Paul. There's some more guys, and I really wanted you to meet Luke too, but I think they've all already left, I think. Probably headed to somewhere cooler than this," Ben laughs and nudges his closest teammate, who playfully rolls his eyes. I'd heard the name Luke thrown around a bit in our chats. As far as I know, this Luke guy is my brother's best friend and closest confidante on the team. If you ask me, Luke sounds a little arrogant. I've never met him, but I assume he's the type of man who makes every situation about himself. "Nice to meet you," I murmur shyly to the surrounding men, my buzz and my nerve slowly dwindling. Again I find myself uncomfortable, like I'm adrift in this sea of people. There's just so much noise and chaos... the only place I'd really felt secure tonight was in that man's arms. Why hadn't I even asked his name? If I don't work up the courage to go to his room, then I'll never know just who he is. Then again, if I don't go to his room, won't that be saying I'm not interested in the first place? A lazy vein pulses on my temple in confusion. "Guys, this is my little sister, Josie," Ben continues, the mention of my name tugging me out of my deep thoughts. "Now I expect all of you to be perfect gentlemen. Hands to yourselves." He smirks faintly at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as his teammates take turns shaking my hand. I find myself at a loss for words, now grateful for the loud music that helped to fill in some of the deafening silence now growing between us. Ben was too drunk to help me out here, staring idly up at one of the flashing dancefloor lights like he'd only just noticed it. "So does this mean we'll be seeing more of you, Josie?" Max asks curiously. "You know your brother saves you a seat at every game. Front row, one of the best in the house." Ben grins back at me now, strong shoulders shrugging. He sags against me wearily, and I get the feeling that I'm the only thing holding him up. That probably won't turn out well, as I'm half his size. This guy was going to need to go home and go to bed sooner rather than later. "I hope so," I say to Max, grunting under Ben's weight, "it's just that I work so much. It's hard to make time for other things." Max nods, noticing Ben's eyes starting to drift shut. He moves over and hefts Ben slightly up then plops him in a nearby chair like a kid being put down for a nap. "Don't you worry about this guy," he grins, "we'll take care of him tonight." "Thanks so much. You'll have him call me when he's conscious?" Max laughs, his head tilting back. "I can do that if you'll promise to try and find more time in your hectic schedule for the important things." The promise catches me off-guard, though I suddenly feel like I'm a troublesome student who's accidentally just wandered into the principal's office for a lecture. "...What do you mean?" I ask slowly. "A job is necessary. Money is important. Believe me, we get that, all of us. Hockey is more than just a gig, it's life. I'm sure you feel that same way about your architecture. But there's more to living than working. There's family, for one." I glance at Ben as his shoulder lolls to the side, a snore rippling through my brother's throat. "I know that my job isn't everything but-" Max holds up a hand to stop me, smiling softly. "I wasn't looking to chide you. I just know that it's important to remember that there are more things in life than just a paycheck and a deadline." "Don't listen to this guy," another one of the hockey players says, playfully clocking Max on the back of the head. "He took one philosophy class in college and now he's an expert." When the guys all laugh, I laugh along with them, but something in my gut feels all twisted up. For the first time, I start to wonder if I'm making the right choice here by committing myself so fully to Peter Tullamore and his architecture firm. Sure, working for him is a great way to kickstart my career... but is that all that I want? In a daze, I say goodbye and remind Max to have my brother text me, then head to the bar to close out my tab. "Another?" the waitress asks curiously, eyeing me skeptically, "are you sure, girl? Those Long Islands pack a wallop." "God no," I laugh, "can I go ahead and pay?" "Oh, honey. Your tab is already taken care of. That nice gentleman friend of yours paid for your drinks." She moves further down the bar towards someone calling for her, leaving me staring blankly at where she'd stood only a moment before. "His name," I suddenly ask, leaning against the bar and pressing my hand against it firmly. "Do you know his name?" The woman thinks for a moment, tapping her chin, then gives a sigh and shakes her head in defeat. "I'm sorry, he paid cash, and I've served so many people tonight I can't keep any of the names straight." My lips pucker together as I chew at the corner of my mouth in thought. Then, with a shrug and I sigh, I head outside. The sweltering summer wind hits me like a wave as I step outside, but I'm just so grateful for the fresh air that I couldn't care less what temperature it might be. I inhale once then twice, relishing a smell that isn't bursting with damp feet and cheap cologne. Rising above me, the hotel where my mystery man is staying soars into the air. It's got a neon sign on the front that glitters. I tilt my head back to gaze at it the same way I'd had to tip my chin up to gaze into his eyes, counting the illuminated windows. A few flicker, the inhabitants watching their televisions. I'd never been in that hotel, it's way too fancy for me to ever consider staying in. They probably sewed their sheets with gold. I count up to the eighth floor, where nearly all the windows glow yellow. Which one was him? Was he waiting for me? Was he standing at the glass pane right now gazing down at me? I squint, trying to tell if any shadowy figures are moving about, but I don't see anything at all. If he's there, he's hidden. There's no way that I could go up to see him. There's no way that I could be that girl. I'd never had a one-night stand in my life, but I'd also never had a handsome, sexy stranger so taken with me before. Was it just the alcohol that drew us together or was it something more? Would I be okay if it was just a short fling with a handsome, mysterious stranger and nothing more? Deliberately, I take a few steps down the sidewalk, trying to convince myself to walk towards the bus station so I could get home. I do have to be up early, after all… I'd only taken two steps when I whirled around and rushed back towards the hotel like my life depended on it, my shoes clacking loudly against the pavement. The doors glided effortlessly open as I approached and stepped inside, relieved to be in the air conditioning. The hotel lobby is ornate to the point of being almost garish with crimson carpet running along the floor and golden paneling. I feel suddenly out of place, like I'm a very clumsy ox in a very beautiful china shop. The concierge, however, doesn't even give me a second look. I'm certainly not the first girl who's wandered in here for a clandestine affair and a gifted hotel key in her pocket. My fingers dig backwards over the stitched pocket.
The edge of the key greets my hand. I withdraw it and stare down at the white plastic, pressing my thumb against one corner. Down the hall, one of the elevators dings loudly. Breath catching in my throat, my eyes shoot towards it as though I expect him to walk right out and greet me in that smooth, deep voice of his that's like dark chocolate and red wine to my soul. The man who exits, however, is over seventy and dressed only in an extremely snug bathing suit. "Going up?" he asks, holding the door open for me. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and nod before lurching inside. The old man's gap-toothed smile vanishes as the doors slide shut. I thrust a finger hard against the eight-floor button, and my stomach drops down to my feet as the elevator soars upwards into the air. In seconds, I've rambled out of the elevator and down the hall and come face to face with the door of the room. I can't hear a peep from inside, not the rustle of a sheet or the sound of a foot padding over the carpet. For a second I start to wonder if he was just taunting me and if he told me the wrong room number. It wouldn't be a surprise, with how handsome he is. My whole body shakes as I slowly lift my hand, my knuckles hovering an inch off the wood. Try as I might, I couldn't seem to convince myself to knock. Again and again, I tried to get myself to do anything at all, but I just stood there frozen like a statue. My feet might as well have grown roots. A few units down, the door abruptly flies open as someone steps into the hall. I whirl around, my shocked eyes meeting the gaze of the man from the club. He blinks, that dimple appearing in his cheek as he sets the ice bucket against one of his hips and smiles. "What are you doing?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. "What does it look like?" I answer with a determined lift of my chin. He chuckles, "Like you're trying to get into the janitor's closet." With a little yelp of embarrassment, I drop my hand from where it was still suspended a few inches from the door and shuffle backwards. My cheeks burn in humiliation, even more red than when I was drunk. "Come on in," the man says quietly, gesturing towards his open door. "At least there's no mops in here." I can't help but laugh, shaking my head and letting him guide me in. Abandoning his hunt for ice, he sets the bucket down as the door closes behind him. The room is smaller than I expected, little more than a TV and a bed. The sheets, while not stitched with gold, do look soft and inviting. I ease down onto the corner of the bed without thinking, smoothing my palm across the comforter. The man stands across the room, still by the door, his arms folding over his chest. He watches me silently, but his eyes are churning. When I timidly gaze back up at him, I feel suddenly hypnotized by his expression. It's as though he's fighting movement with every inch of his body, as though he wants to spring at me. His eyes occasionally shift towards my mouth, and I can't help but run my tongue along my upper lip. He stiffens, inhaling sharply. That's the first time I've ever seen raw lust on a man's face when looking at me. With trembling fingers, I hook my thumbs under the hem of my blouse and slowly start to pull it upwards, but he rushes forward. "Stop," he whispers, voice thick. I bite my lip, suddenly ashamed. I drop the shirt, and my arms move to cover my body, but he shakes his head. "No, it's not you... it's that I want to do it. Let me take your clothes off for you." He swallows, hot gaze traveling over me. My chin stiffly jerks up and down in a nod. I'd do anything to have his hands again on my body, anything at all. Slowly, he takes hold of my shirt with gentle fingers and pulls it up and over my head. Laying my body down against the bed, he unbuttons my skirt and removes it. I'm left in my underwear, my hands moving again to cover me, but he gently takes hold of my arms and moves them. His gaze washes over me, his breathing going shallow. "God, you're gorgeous," he whispers huskily, his voice little more than a growl. "So damn gorgeous..." he repeats, collapsing down against me. Our noses brush, and this time I can't resist. I need to taste him like a man in the desert needs water, like a man drowning in the ocean needs air. I need him, completely. My hands move on their own in a way they never have before, ripping his own clothes from his body. In seconds we're naked and rolling across the luxurious sheets, our legs tangling. His fingers knot in my hair, my fingernails drag down his spine. He groans with pleasure, his breath hot on my ear as he presses kisses against my throat, his teeth grazing the flesh. He suckles at the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of bruises that I will worship later. "Please," I beg, not even able to recognize my own voice; it's so full of carnal yearning, "take me!" His arm hooks under my leg, dragging my body against his. I feel him struggling to move slower than he truly wants. Every one of his strong muscles is strained and tense. "Please!" I scream again, and he can no longer hold back. He thrusts inside of me, my back arching, my fingers curling into the sheets as though my body may just take flight from pleasure and float away. I writhe under him, bucking my hips towards his. The pleasure is intense, almost painful in its ecstasy. I want more, more, more. I can't get enough of his body. He's everywhere at once, his kisses sweet one second then rough the next. We roll together, limbs intertwined and desperate. The sounds leaving my throat are like that of an animal's. I'm no longer myself but an extension of him, and he is the same. I can barely see, barely breathe, barely feel anything that isn't his muscled body capturing my own. Our high-pitched cries of pleasure blend into one beautiful song, just as the hours of the night bleed away into the morning. The lone night was both sublimely endless and torturously short.
