Page 10 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

i had a little adventure

Devon

As I wake, my eyes practically stuck together, I stretch, finding every muscle in my body hurts. It’s different from any workout ache I’ve ever had.

Blinking away the grogginess, I consider sleeping in, staying in my cocoon of fluffy white blankets, and skipping the first session of the morning.

However, the rule follower in me wins out, and I force myself to throw my legs over the side and push myself upright.

I check the clock and am surprised at the time.

Even having stayed up way past my bedtime, I still woke up in time for a morning workout.

I dress for the gym and head down to get in a run on the treadmill, followed by some light weight work.

I’m sluggish and slow-moving, but I make it happen and work up a good sweat, feeling less guilty about the junk I ate early this morning.

I keep watching the door to the gym, hoping Grant might come in, but I remember he said he had an early flight. He’s probably long gone. Which sucks.

Back in the room, I hit the shower. Still moving slowly, I savor the luxurious hot water and the smell of soap and shampoo as I massage at my aching muscles. The spot between my legs is sore, in a very good way that only reminds me of the night. Of sexy Grant.

Wow. Wow, wow, wow. I’ve never had such wild chemistry with someone. My ex and I had fun for a while, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that I was really married to his ego. I was arm candy, which does not a solid marriage make.

Shawn has long moved on from me, from our relationship.

I’m okay with it, really, but I think the whole experience soured me on the idea of “true love.” I thought I had it with my husband, until I didn’t.

And I’ve dated, but no one has really kept my attention.

I’ve been out with a few guys since I moved to Las Vegas, but none of them has been remarkable.

Nice. Successful. Good-looking men, all of them, but I’ve felt nothing.

Nothing. I’ve started to wonder if something is wrong with me.

Grant, though? I think he could keep my attention for a good, long while. From the minute I saw him, I wanted him. The sex was so hot. Amazing, really. But more than that? We could talk to each other. We had things in common. He was real and honest and funny. I truly enjoyed being in his company.

Maybe I made a mistake in not exchanging numbers with him. Maybe we could have built something real.

A weird, delirious sound escapes. Something real?

With a one-night stand? That’s just downright crazy talk, as my grandma Josephine would say.

No one makes a life with a guy they meet at a hotel bar.

No one makes something real with someone they took to bed after a few drinks and some nice conversation.

I know this. He knows this. And that’s why I said we needed to go our separate ways with no strings.

It was the right thing to do.

But what I really need to do is let the thought of Grant be what it is—a perfectly lovely memory.

A great time. Our instant connection and rapport still surprises.

I can’t recall the last time I felt so comfortable with someone other than Gia, if I’m honest. Every time I think about how awed Grant was—at being with me—and how freaking hot the sex was—how attentive and lustful he was—I blush.

To think that Gia had reprimanded me for staying in the hotel to get the feeling of being away from home.

And what a feeling it was. But…I had a little adventure with a really sexy guy. That was it.

Steeling myself, I decide I’m done thinking about this. It was fun, but it’s over. Time to move on. But…

Oh shit. I forgot to text Gia.

Wrapped in my towel, I find my phone and the seventeen texts and calls from Gia, checking in to make sure I’m not the victim of a gorgeous serial killer.

Gia: You ok?

Gia: Seriously.

Gia: Do I need to come back there?

Gia: Guy’s not a creeper, right?

Gia: Assuming you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.

Gia: This is not like you, D.

Gia: I sure hope you’re getting some.

Gia: Sex is the only reason I will forgive you for making me worry.

Devon: Sorry. All good.

Devon: Really, really good. More later.

Without waiting for a response, I dry off and get ready for the day, pulling on a pair of skinny pants with a tank top and a long cardigan with my favorite pair of peep-toe heels.

My long hair is down around my shoulders, and I’m toying with the idea of pulling it back for the day when a knock sounds at the door.

When I open the door wide, I’m shocked to find Grant there. Looking tall, dark, and delicious in a navy-blue pullover simply paired with jeans, he is every bit as classy and gorgeous dressed down as he is in a suit, and I find myself unable to come up with any real words to greet him.

Why am I so tongue-tied by this man?

“Hey,” he says, giving me a panty-dropping, lopsided grin.

“Uh. Hey?”

“Can I step inside for a minute?” He looks at his Apple watch. “I’ve got about ten minutes before I need to head to the airport.”

I gesture for him to step inside, which he does. When he turns, he looks sheepish, like he’s about to admit something.

I blurt out, “You’re married. You came to tell me you’re married.”

His eyes go wide, but then he chuckles. “No. I was, until fairly recently, but I’m not anymore.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” I say, giving a weak smile that probably makes me feel like a ridiculous fool.

He looks me up and down, and the weight of it makes me feel all kinds of ways that I’m sure would take more than ten minutes to work out.

“I actually came to tell you something I should have told you last night. I think that condom tore a bit. I can’t be sure if it happened as I was taking it off or what, but it was mostly full, so I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” I ask lamely, my voice sounding tinny even to my own ears.

Grant reaches out and puts his hand in mine. He looks me straight in the eyes as he says, “Hey. My ex-wife and I tried for years to get pregnant, and it never happened. I don’t think I can…well, you get it. I think it would have happened long ago if my swimmers were swimming.”

My stomach twists in an ugly display of anxiety, but I nod. “I’m sure it’s fine. I mean, it’s probably fine.”

Grant is still holding my hand. He says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night. I came back and knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

I’m not sure what to say, honestly. I’m not mad, not really. I haven’t had to navigate this, and since he was married until recently, my guess is he hasn’t either. And I believe him when he says he doesn’t think he can get anyone pregnant.

“I fell asleep straight away,” I say. “Thought about staying in bed this morning, too. I confess that our evening really wore me out.”

Another panty-dropping grin. And a dimple I didn’t notice last night. Swoon.

“Well, our activities were pretty…active,” Grant says. “I loved it all.”

He actually blushes, which melts my heart in all new ways.

I pull my hand free and grab the hotel notepad and a pen, writing my number on it and ripping it from the pad.

I hand it to Grant and say, “If you ever feel like learning my favorite childhood activity or my favorite pizza toppings, give me a call.”

Grant takes the piece of paper and folds it, slipping it into his pocket. He leans in, his lips meeting mine, and I feel that now-familiar warmth spread through my abdomen, his effect still strong, in the daylight, without alcohol.

When he pulls away, he looks reluctant. I know the feeling.

“I should go, or I’ll miss my flight.”

I nod. “I know.”

“It was really good to meet you, Devon.”

“You, too.”

He kisses my forehead. His lips linger there as I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of him, hoping I can hold it in my memory for a long, long time.

Grant backs away, reaches out, touches my face one more time.

And then he leaves.

He just goes out the door and away to wherever he came from.

Did I just say a farewell I’m going to regret?