Page 43 of Unhitched
Chapter twenty-five
Mya
Sucking through the straw, I watch the last of my second drink travel through the loops.
After eating, we’ve mostly been people-watching.
I don’t trust myself with many conversation topics for fear that they will turn sexual like the one in the car.
And now that there’s alcohol running through me, I trust myself even less.
Sober I’m liable to tell Kace he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, with his just tight enough Henley, sitting comfortably on his bar stool, his Oxford boots resting on the foot bar. Tipsy? The chance is even greater.
Glancing over at him for the hundredth time, I see he’s still half a glass away from finishing the beer he got after he finished mine. “How much do you get paid?”
“For what?” His brows pull together.
I grin. “To babysit that beer.”
He laughs, his thumb brushing across the condensation on his glass resting on the bar. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” I love the way he’s relaxed in the past hour.
I chew the corner of my lip, fighting the alcohol confidence. “I want to know what drunk Kace is like.” And naked Kace .
“What was that look?” He raises a brow. Is he not feeling the alcohol at all? Didn’t he say his beer was strong?
I shift on my stool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He tips his beer back, finishing the second half in a gulp and setting the glass down. Leaning closer, he rests his forearm on the bar. “Tell me, Mya…”
I mirror his position but rest my chin on my palm, and the nearness to him turns up the volume of my pulse. “What?” I think I whisper, but there’s a good chance I’m talking louder than I think.
He leans closer, not touching me, but only a few inches from my face. His crisp, woodsy scent overpowers the dozen other smells of the bar in the best way. “Would you rather answer any one question I ask you or drink a beer?”
Fear and thrill rush through me, twisting around the alcohol in my brain like strands of Twizzlers. What could he possibly ask me that would be worse than that beer? “Truth,” I answer because that’s what this really feels like.
He closes the distance between us, bringing his lips to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Was it me you were picturing fucking in your childhood bed?”
I freeze, but the blood rushing to my face doesn’t get the memo.
Am I embarrassed? I feel a little caught, but I think I’m just turned on.
Kace pulls back enough to gauge my expression.
I swear I can feel my pupils dilate. There’s a pinch in my lip where my teeth are sinking into it. Kace is making a move.
What does this mean? Does it matter? What little is left of my clear logic says to pry, but majority rules, and more of me wants to know what it would be like for Kace to touch me the way I’ve been dreaming about.
I lean forward, thankful I’m drunk enough to be brave but not so trashed that I’ll fall off my chair.
My hand falls to his chest, and I can feel his warmth through the fabric.
Looking him dead in the eye, I whisper, “I pictured it in the bed upstairs too.”
“Fuck, Mya.” He reaches to tuck a curl behind my ear and leaves his fingers there, tightly intertwined in the strands with his palm resting on my cheek.
“Would you rather,” I whisper, “stay here…” I slide my hand down his chest until I reach the hem of his shirt. Slipping my fingers under the fabric, I run them over his abs, feeling them contract at the contact. “Or give me a better look at what’s under these clothes.”
With one hand still holding my face, the other slips to my waist and he tugs me off the stool until I’m standing between his legs.
“I’ve been wanting to tear these leggings off you since 5 a.m.” Despite the flicker of hesitancy in his admission, the eye contact melts me right there on the spot as his hand smooths across my hip to pull me closer by my ass. “Please tell me that’s what you want.”
I nod.
“Tell me,” he insists, not satisfied by my gesture, his expression shifting to a plea for me to want him too.
I slip my fingers through the front loop of his jeans. “The thought of you undressing me has distracted me from everything today, Kace.”
He groans, and all I can think about is hearing it again in the bed that’s waiting for us upstairs. He slides from the stool, dropping his hold on me but keeping us close as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He catches the bartender’s attention.
She makes her way to us. “Hey. Ready to cash out?” She flicks her non-judgmental eyes over us.
“Yes, please,” Kace says, patiently handing over his card and giving her just enough attention to be polite.
She runs the card on a hand held machine, but Kace’s eyes are back on me.
He doesn’t say anything–just lets his eyes roam my face.
My heart thumps in my chest. I want this so badly.
What all this entails, I couldn’t tell you at this exact moment.
But that’s a conversation for tomorrow. The bartender sets the card and receipt in front of us, not at all bothered by the public display.
“Thank you! Have a good night you two.” I catch her smile in my periphery and watch Kace pull a twenty from his wallet.
He traps it under the clip holding the receipt in place and signs the paper quickly.
“Let’s go,” he says, lacing his fingers through mine and pulling me toward the front door.
Kace is holding my hand.
Part of me wants to pinch myself to prove I’m not replaying fantasies in my mind. When we push outside, I’m hit by a cold that bites more than a pinch. The snowy air against my heated skin convinces me this is real life.
We walk on the snow dusted brick path that takes us from the bar to the hotel part of the resort, the nip in the air becoming less noticeable the more I focus on the feel of Kace’s hand in mine.
He opens the door to the building for us, and with the rush of warm air comes a hit of alcohol registering in my brain as confidence and horniness. He reaches back for my hand before starting the steps, and I latch onto it, following him to the next floor.
We round the corner of the stairwell, and I can’t take not being closer to him. I squeeze his hand enough to catch his attention. He freezes on a step halfway up the staircase, and I invade his space until he backs into the wall.
His hands fall to my waist so quickly, it’s as if he was waiting for this. I run my hands up his chest, smoothing them across his pecs until I hit bare skin above his Henley. Slipping my fingers around his neck, I intertwine them with the short strands of his hair.
A groan slips from his parted lips as he looks at me, his grip around my waist tightening. His eyes flash from my lips back to my eyes, and I want to kiss him so badly.
All it would take is a tug on his neck and pressing up on my toes, and our lips would meet. God, I want that.
But the little memory Mya in the back of my head pushes play on the clip of Kace running away the last time we kissed.
He hesitates for a second, but then he starts to lean in. Panic sets in. “Race you to the room,” I blurt, dropping my hold on him, spinning out of his grip, and booking it around the corner and up the final flight, my boots stomping on each step.
I feel him behind me, and I just know he’s taking the steps two at a time.
I’m out of breath by the time I run down the hallway.
He catches me as I reach the door, grabbing me by the hips and spinning me until my back is pressed against the door.
His fingers slide under my sweater, smoothing along my skin, as he leans in, until he reaches my bra.
His gaze meets mine, and my breath hitches. Bringing his lips to my ear, I feel him reach the key card to the sensor next to us. “Once we enter this room, you’re not getting away from me.”
My god , this man is hot. But my head is buzzing too hard to translate the meaning of his words. Does he mean tonight? Or past that? It doesn’t matter. One thing at a time. I reach behind me, feeling for the door handle and pushing down on it when the lock clicks.
Kace pushes both me and the door forward, taking us into the room. My hands fall to his hips for stability. Neither of us bother with the light, but the moonlight casts a dim glow through partially drawn curtains.
He backs me up until my legs hit the bed, trapping both of us in the small space between the bed and the wall.
Reaching between us, I grip the hem of his shirt and tug.
He lifts his arms, helping me pull it over his head.
Taking a moment to appreciate the way his dark forest sleeves bleed into a grayscale mountain on his shoulder, I hesitate with the shirt in my hands before tossing it on the ground next to me.
Instead of following the movement, he keeps his gaze locked on me, and the second my hands are free, he takes his turn.
He feels along the bottom of the sweater, until he’s got both that and my tank top in his grip, and pulls them up and over my head before tossing them into the growing clothes pile.
He leans back against the wall to take me in–now just in my leggings and a light pink lace bra. It gives me the perfect opportunity to see him shirtless in the moonlight, jeans hanging from his hips. But only for a second, because in the next one he’s dropped to his knees in front of me.
“Sit,” he commands, and I obey, settling my ass on the edge of the bed. Kneeling, he slides his hand around one of my calves, gripping the heel of my boot with the other and pulling it from my foot. He repeats the motion on the other side.
Once my boots are in the space beside us, he loops his fingers under the band of my leggings and tugs.
I lean back on my hands and lift my hips, allowing the fabric to slide between me and the comforter.
He takes his time, stripping the spandex down my legs and tugging them off, leaving me in nothing but my bra and matching lace underwear.
He runs his thumbs across where the lace lies at the apex of my thighs, and the sensation of pressure over the fabric sends a rush of heat to my core. “Fuck, Mya. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”
His eyes roam my body, darkening when they snag on my belly button ring in the process of getting off his knees and kicking off his boots.
He urges me back on the bed until he’s hovering over me.
Focusing my gaze on the way his abs are contracted over me, I reach for the button on his jeans.
I flick it open and pinch the metal pull, slowly tugging it down the track.
With each tooth it unlinks, my body heats in anticipation.
Pushing his jeans down the best I can from where I’m trapped under him, he helps me kick them the rest of the way off. He readjusts himself and settles over me, then dips his head until an inch from kissing me.
An inch from a second chance.