Heat flared in her eyes, and she shifted closer to him and brought her voice down. “I have a room at the hotel next door,” she said, the first sign of real, genuine nervousness entering her eyes. Her voice quavered slightly, and her throat bobbed in trepidation. “Would you … like to join me there?”
Eva hadn’t planned on inviting anybody up to her hotel room. She simply wanted a night away to herself. A night alone. A night to not have a furnace of a child in nothing but Marvel underpants crawling into bed beside her at two in the morning, and then another one crawling into her bed an hour later.
She wanted one night in a bed all by herself where she didn’t have to share the pillows, the duvet or the mattress. She wanted one night to not be mom, mama or mommy and instead just be Eva Fletcher—no, wait, scratch that, Eva Marchand. No way was she hanging on to that asshole’s last name, even if it was still attached to her sons. She would spend the rest of her life making sure her sons turned out nothing like their father.
Nothing.
Kellen and Lucas Fletcher would be nothing but respectful, kind and sensitive men who treated women like equals and didn’t emotionally or psychologically abuse or manipulate them. Kellen and Lucas would grow up to be good men.
But for one night she wanted her sister, Celeste, to be with those future good men. She didn’t want to have to worry about anybody’s needs, worries or wants but her own.
For. Just. One. Night.
From the moment she met up with the bachelorette party in the party room of the hotel, she began to plot her exit. Began to plot her escape to the luxury of her terrycloth robe and room service.
The party had been fun at first, with the rep from Curiously Kinky at-home romance parties doing sex toy demos and playing “guess that lube flavor,” but after a while, once the champagne and Jell-O shots had started to get passed around, all the women began to get annoying. They went from respectable women in their thirties and forties, mothers, wives and entrepreneurs, to squealing sorority divas. Or woo girls.
No thanks.
She needed to ditch the squealy, giggly bachelorette party ASAP.
But the best-laid plans somehow had a way of changing—and not always for the worse. Now she didn’t want to be in her room alone. Not so alone, at least.
This Scott guy was hot. Like really hot. Tall, dark and drop-dead sexy. That beard—yum. Thick, dark and short. Not to mention the soulful dark brown eyes, long lashes and a slightly crooked nose that somehow made him all the more handsome. Because it meant he wasn’t perfect. Eva was nowhere near perfect, so the last thing she needed was to be with a man who was. Not that this would be anything more than one night, but still, it was nice to know the man had flaws. Imperfections. That made him the perfect companion to chase away the post-divorce blues. To end her dry spell and give her vibrator a much-needed break.
“Eva … ” he breathed out slowly, having taken a moment to simply stare at her, which only made her panties grow increasingly damp. “I would love to. But I don’t want to take advantage—”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be. If anybody’s going to be taking advantage of anybody tonight, it would be me taking advantage of you. I will be using you.”
His expressive eyes went wide. His brows flew up his forehead. “Is that so?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “It is. Give me fifteen minutes to go freshen up, and then meet me next door in room 301.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “There’s a liquor store across the street … maybe some wine?”
His eager, boyish grin and nod made her laugh. She liked this guy. He was sexy, funny and seemed kind. A breath of fresh air. And after the claustrophobia and suffocation she’d experienced in the last few years of her marriage, she was in desperate need of some fresh air.
She’d also made herself a promise that she would stop forsaking herself for a man. Todd had all but destroyed her confidence and self-esteem, and it had taken a lot of therapy and support from her sister and parents to begin to rebuild that confidence.
For the first time in her life, she was going to take. And what she wanted was to take Scott up to her hotel room and have her way with him.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his honest eyes turning tender as he squeezed her arm, a small wrinkle of concern appearing between his brows. “I do want to spend more time with you, but I kind of thought we could just go grab pizza.”
Ohhh, pizza.
She liked the sound of that.
“Twenty minutes. Go grab pizza too. Wine and pizza.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I like you, Eva. You say exactly what you want. No guessing games. Okay, then. I’ll meet you upstairs, room 301, in twenty minutes, and I’ll bring pizza and wine.”
“Zinfandel,” she stated.
His smile turned devilish. “Zinfandel. Your wish is my command.” Her nipples peaked to painful points beneath her silk blouse.
Before she could jump his bones right there in the club, she stood. “All right then.” She teetered slightly on the strappy heels she’d chosen to wear out. They killed her feet, but they made her ass look amazing. Sometimes you had to make sacrifices in the name of self-esteem—of which she was severely depleted these past few years. As a mom of two very busy boys, she wore flats or sneakers all day long. “I’m going to go take my leave of the bachelorette party. Do you need to say goodbye to your companions?”
He twisted his head around to glance toward the back of the bar, where a group of men was chanting “chug, chug, chug, chug.” He made a face of disgust. “Nope.”
Eva laughed. “Okay, then. Twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes.” He stood as well, leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. “Do I need to grab condoms?” he asked, his mouth next to her ear, the warm buzz of his words making a tingle sprint down through the center of her body, landing directly between her legs.
Condoms. Right!
She wasn’t going to need those for her solo evening. But now that she wasn’t going to be solo anymore, perhaps she needed some precautions.
Swallowing, still totally surprised with herself and the fact that she’d just propositioned a total stranger for sex, she nodded. “Uh, yeah. Probably a good idea.”
He kissed her cheek again. “Okay, then, pizza, zinfandel and condoms. See you in thirty.” Then he left the bar, his swagger carefree, almost lazy, and so damn cocky she found herself smiling, then laughing as she watched him walk away. Nerves, but not the bad kind, made the hair on her arms lift, and the butterflies of anticipation began to wildly beat their wings in her belly.
Careful not to roll an ankle, she finished her short, stocky tumbler of tequila, then headed over to the bachelorette party with a new spring in her step. Eva was ready to get her groove back, and Scott was exactly what the doctor ordered to help her do that.
2
The wind and sideways rain hammered the windows of her hotel suite as Eva washed her hands in the bathroom, staring at the woman in the mirror in front of her. She barely recognized herself.
Gone were the dark bags beneath her eyes—and not just because she was great at applying her own makeup—and her cheeks had filled out again since she started eating full meals after the divorce had been finalized. Once she was finally granted her freedom.