Hazel fidgeted beside me while the attendant took our credit cards and IDs. I hoped our rooms weren’t next to each other. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep if there was nothing but a wall separating us.
She handed our IDs and credit cards back to us. “We do have you in adjoining rooms, but the door between them can remain locked.”
Figured.
“Here’s your room key, Mr. Nash.” She slid a key-card across the counter. “Room five sixteen. The elevators are just down that hallway. Fifth floor, then take a left.”
I shifted awkwardly, wondering if I should wait and walk up to the room with Hazel, or go now since I had my key and I was checked in. My arm accidentally brushed hers and the unexpected contact was like a lightning strike.
“Otters hold hands when they sleep,” I blurted out. “And sometimes they form otter rafts of up to a hundred individuals. Sleeping in the water provides protection from predators, but they hold onto each other so they don’t drift apart.”
The attendant blinked at me, her brow furrowed with confusion.
“I wonder how they learned to do that,” Hazel said. “At what point did an otter reach out to clasp a neighboring otter’s appendage and hold on? And how many instances of napping that way did it take before it began to spread through the larger otter population?”
“And how much of it is instinct versus learned behavior?”
Hazel tapped her lips. “Good question.”
“You’re all set.” The attendant pushed another room key across the counter, still eying me like I was odd. “Room five eighteen. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.” Hazel readjusted her luggage handle and glanced at me. “Shall we?”
“Sure.”
We walked to the elevators and rode in silence to the fifth floor. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Hazel smelled so good, I found myself shifting toward her. Breathing in deeply. I was practically sniffing her hair.
She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t react. Her body was tense, her posture rigid. I darted a quick glance at her before the elevator doors opened. I could almost see the fluttering of her pulse in her neck—a subtle shiver of her delicate skin.
Still no talking while we walked down the open-air hallway to our rooms. Adjoining rooms. Shared-wall rooms. We moved to our respective doors, lifting our key-cards to the locks, like we were in sync. The doors clicked and lights turned green.
I turned the handle and pushed, opening the door an inch. Glanced at Hazel. She met my eyes but quickly looked away. Without a word she went into her room, letting the door fall closed behind her. So I went into mine.
The room was standard for a hotel. Air conditioned, which was good because it was hot outside. Small bathroom. Thick curtains drawn closed, blocking out most of the light. There was a table with two chairs, a TV mounted on the wall, and two queen beds with crisp white linens flanked by tables with lamps.
I glanced at the interior door that led to Hazel’s room. Hers was probably a mirror image of mine. Which meant she had two queen beds on the other side of that wall. I wasn’t sure how thick a hotel wall was, but not thick enough. She’d be sleeping right on the other side of that one.
At least we were in separate rooms.
I wheeled my suitcase next to the closet, took off my shoes, and flopped down on one of the beds. There wasn’t anything conference related until the keynote address tonight. That meant I had several hours to kill. I’d brought work, and things to read. There was a TV. I had my laptop and wifi. The internet was an ocean of potential distractions. Or I could go out and explore. Wander along the beach and clear my head.
Fifteen minutes later, I was still lying on the bed, vaguely daydreaming about Hazel. Every little noise sucked at my attention, making me wonder what she was doing over there. She was probably the kind of person who unpacked. I could imagine her carefully hanging all those cardigans and button-up blouses she wore. Smoothing the fabric of her pencil skirts so they didn’t wrinkle.
Was she bored? Reading a book? I didn’t hear a TV, but she might have had it on with the volume low. Would she take a shower before the keynote tonight? I’d probably hear the sound of the water running if she did.
Oh god, Hazel in the shower.
I’d been inside her, but hadn’t seen her naked. Except for her ass. And that peek of her pussy when I’d pushed her panties to the side.
Grabbing a pillow, I smashed it against my face and groaned. Why was this so hard?
Why was I so hard?
I was lying here, torturing myself by thinking about her. Imagining her naked body in the shower. Or lying on the bed just on the other side of the wall. I didn’t know why she’d be naked on the bed, but in my mind she was.
Was she thinking about me, too?
Probably not. She’d seemed tense today, but that didn’t mean she was ready to smother herself with a pillow to end the agony.
That was just me.
Maybe I just needed to take care of this hard-on myself. Jerking off wasn’t going to keep me from reacting like an animal during mating season as soon as I saw her again. But it might help me calm the hell down so I could relax. I was tired—probably from getting up early to catch our flight. Maybe if I emptied the tanks, I’d be able to take a nap before dinner.
The sad thing—or maybe the good thing, I wasn’t sure how to frame it—was that I wasn’t going to need any help. No porn necessary. I’d been getting off to nothing but fantasies of Hazel since I’d fucked her in the copy room. The entire incident was imprinted in my memory. I could bring it up like a movie, letting the whole thing play in my mind.
The scientist in me wondered if I was making things worse for myself by continuing to fantasize about her.
My dick, however, ached with unrelieved pressure. And that sensation was a lot louder than any logic my brain might try to throw at me.
The only thought getting through to the front of my mind was worse.
She’s right next door.
But really, what was the worst thing that could happen if I went over there? She’d answer her door and tell me to leave? We’d get in an argument about something? Hell, we’d argued the whole time we’d been fucking in the copy room. That hadn’t seemed to matter.
Fuck it.
I got up, left my room, and went straight to hers. Lifted my hand to knock.
The door opened before my fist could connect.
Hazel held the door, her eyes widening. My first thought was to wonder where she was going.
Until I saw her buttons.
Those fucking buttons.
Her shirt was partially open, the tops of her tits and part of a nude lace bra showing.
My mouth turned up in a predatory grin. Fuck. Yes.
She grabbed my shirt and hauled me inside.
19
Corban
“Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite.” ~ Roberto Bolaño
I didn’t wait for the door to shut behind me before grabbing Hazel’s shirt and ripping it the rest of the way open. Buttons flew in all directions, but I couldn’t have cared less. I had one objective. Getting this woman naked.
Now.
Without a word, I yanked the shirt down her shoulders, and she let it fall to the floor. I spun her around and hooked my finger beneath her bra, tugging on it to draw her closer to me. She gasped, backing up a step. I leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder, then let my teeth scrape along her skin until I reached her bra strap.