"How much would you like it?" She stared at his fingers moving along her chest. She wanted him to stop and linger, but he just kept up that slow movement. Had she thought it was cold tonight? If she stood there with him any longer, she'd get so hot she would combust.
"Mmmm." He took her hand and let her feel how much this was getting to him, too. "This much, I think. What do you think about that?"
She moved her fingers up and down over him like he was doing to her. She was gratified to hear his intake of breath.
"I think we'd better get to your hotel as soon as possible."
All Drew wanted was to make out with Alexa in the back seat like teenagers. Unfortunately, they had the chattiest driver ever, and Drew was drawn into conversation with him despite himself. By the end of the ride, their new friend Miguel had given them the address of his favourite taco truck and his theories on gentrification.
Alexa giggled as they got on the elevator.
"What?" He pretended to scowl and pushed her against the back of the elevator. She didn't resist and kept laughing.
"You say I'm the politician, and yet tonight you bonded with our driver and had a long conversation with Nate, of all people. I think your whole sour-face thing the weekend of the wedding was all pretence."
He held on to her arm and trapped her against the wall.
"Keep talking like that, and I can't promise what will happen. Interesting things happen to us in elevators, you know."
She licked his neck, bit down, and licked again. Had he really planned to never see this girl again?
"I'm growing to like elevators quite a bit," she said as the doors opened for his floor.
He fumbled in his pocket for the door key and realized two things. One: he wanted to pick her up and throw her on his bed again. Two: he really had to pee. Shit. He'd better make it quick.
He pulled her inside the room.
"Don't move. Give me one second. I'll be right back." He flew into the bathroom and hoped that the look on her face hadn't been irritation or—oh God—a change of heart. Maybe she'd remembered she was mad at him? That thought made him zip his pants quickly, in case he had to convince her to stay.
When he opened the door, she wasn't standing in the entryway where he'd left her. She hadn't left, had she? He looked around the room and . . . holy shit.
She was propped up against the pillows on the bed, wearing that leather jacket, those heels . . . and nothing else. He unbuckled his belt.
"I thought I told you not to move?" he asked her as he approached the bed.
She nodded, her fingers zipping and unzipping the jacket as he'd done earlier.
"It's true. You did tell me that. But you also told me you wanted to see me in this jacket and nothing else. Do you want me to put my clothes back on?"
He dropped his pants to the floor and stepped out of them, kicking off his shoes in the process.
"Over my dead body." He crawled onto the bed and straddled her. He grabbed her hands and pulled them away from that zipper. She watched him play with it for a while, as her hands ran up and down his body. Then, without any warning, she pulled off his tie and threw it onto the floor.
"I've been wanting to do that all night."
He unzipped the jacket all the way, rolled over, and pulled her on top of him. She sighed and leaned against his chest. He loved the way she always relaxed into his arms whenever he touched her. Even at the bar, when they hadn't seen each other for two weeks and he knew she was mad at him, as soon as he'd pulled her against him, her body had moulded to his.
"I missed this," she said.
He turned them both over so he was on top of her again and kissed her in that hollow between her breasts that he loved so much.
"Did you miss this? Or did you miss . . . me?"
She opened her eyes and held his gaze for a long moment.
"Both."
He smiled.
"That's what I wanted you to tell me."
"You have too many clothes on." Alexa unbuttoned his shirt all the way. He pulled it and his undershirt off and threw them across the room.
"I was in too much of a hurry to take them all off," he said.
She pushed him onto his back and enjoyed the sensation of the warm, firm skin of his chest under her fingers. It wasn't like she'd forgotten how much she liked having sex with him—that was impossible to forget. But somehow, she'd forgotten how free she felt with him. How she could relax enough to lie naked on his bed in only a leather jacket and high heels and wait for him. She'd never been this confident with anyone else.
"Drew?" She paused as her hand ventured lower on his body. "You do have condoms, don't you?"
He grinned without opening his eyes.
"The same box I bought the last time I was in a hotel room in San Francisco with you. I didn't take it out of my bag." He opened his eyes. "Why, is there something else you've been missing?"
She caressed his hips, and he closed his eyes again.
"Mmmmhmmmm," she said.
"Are you going to tell me what that is, or am I going to have to guess?"
"Hmmm, I think you should guess. But be quick about it. I've been missing . . . it so much. Everything feels so . . ." She rubbed his chest again, up and down, and stopped just at the base of his stomach. "So sensitive. I feel like I'm going to explode for needing . . . it."
When he opened his eyes, the need on his face almost pushed her back against the bed. He jumped off the bed and dove for his luggage, coming up a few seconds later with a triumphant look on his face and a box of condoms.
"Oh, I have a guess." He dropped the box on the nightstand and tore open a condom packet as he stood next to the bed and looked at her. "I'm going to guess over and over again. All night long and most of the day tomorrow. We have to make up for the lost time."
The next morning, Alexa sat back against the plush pillows of the hotel bed and watched him pour coffee from the room service carafe into her mug. He added one sugar and handed it to her before pouring his own.
She beamed down at her mug. She couldn't help it. He remembered how she took her coffee. She cupped her hands around the mug and let the warmth spread through her body.
He got in bed next to her and pulled the basket of pastries up to join them.
"One of the best things about hotels," he said, "is that you can get crumbs in the bed without worrying about it. I know it's no doughnut, but do you want the bear claw?"
He turned toward her halfway through his raspberry Danish.
"Hey, what's going on with your program for teenagers? The arts thing?"
She paused midway through pouring herself more coffee to smile at him. Wow, did it feel good for him to care enough to ask about that.
"I'm cautiously optimistic. The goal is to get it on the city council calendar for mid-July. Keep your fingers crossed."
He tore the top off the blueberry muffin and offered her half.
"Great, will do." He held up two crossed fingers and poured her more coffee.
"I saw Abby and Jack the other day, by the way. She told me about how much you're helping them. Thanks for that." He leaned over to kiss her. His lips were sprinkled with sugar. Perfect.
"When do we have to be out of here?" She looked around him to the clock radio on the bedside table. "It's almost ten. Wait, when's your flight?"
"Twelve thirty, but I can change it, like I . . ." His voice trailed away as he turned away from her to pick up his phone. "I can change to the flight at eight tonight?"
"Yeah, that works." She was glad he looked back down at his phone and couldn't see how wide her smile was.
He moved the pastry basket to the foot of the bed and put his arm around her.
"Last night . . . you didn't say whether you were sleeping with anyone else."
"Oh." She hadn't expected him to bring this up again. And her whole "don't overthink it" motto certainly wouldn't have let her do it. "No, I'm not."