Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.
Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!
And now, PART 10 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.):
Cal’s firm must have clout because we used the priority check in and whizzed right past the line of tired travelers. I peeked over at Cal as I checked in, admiring not only how deliciously he filled out his jeans, but also how sweet he was with the older woman behind the counter as he checked in. Our eyes met and he winked at me. I waited until he finished, and we walked to the elevator together.
“All set?” he asked.
“Yup. I’m in 312.” The elevator doors opened and we stepped in.
“I’m in 535. How about we get settled into our rooms and meet back down here in fifteen minutes for dinner. Are you hungry?” He gave me a look that made me think of anything but food. I stared back at him. The door opened and a couple with a crying baby walked in between us.
I stepped out of the elevator and mumbled something about meeting him downstairs in a few. Walking to my room, I glanced back to the sinful look in his eyes. I didn’t have too much experience in the ‘I want to rip your clothes off’ stare, at least directed at me. But I’d have bet a million he had just sent one in my direction. The butterflies doing flips in my stomach urged me to let him and do the same to him. I dragged my carryon through the door, turned on the light and sat on the bed.
No, I couldn’t do that. I laughed and headed to the bathroom with the toothbrush and paste the front desk gave me. The thought that entered my head was something Tiffany would do, not boring, predictable Charli. I turned on the water and unwrapped the bar of facial soap. Lathering the soap in my hands I thought of how my fingers would feel as they raked through his hair and ran down his back to his delectable ass. I washed and rinsed my face and stared at myself in the mirror. “What the hell,” I said to the reflection as I finished patting my face dry with a hand towel. I gave my teeth a quick brush and added an extra dab of toothpaste to the back of my tongue before finding my phone.
Booty calls. I’d never made one. I turned on my phone and decided a booty text was much safer. I selected his number and after much thought, tapped out:
I’m not hungry for food.
I groaned after I hit send. What if I’d read his signals all wrong? What if I had just made a world-class fool of myself? The good news was I could slip out of the hotel undetected tomorrow morning and hide out in the terminal until my flight. I wouldn’t have to see him again, even if we lived in the same city. New York City’s hugeness almost guaranteed it.
Stupid key card took five swipes before the gremlin-infested contraption finally conceded defeat. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned skeleton keys? Electronic hotel keys and I had always had a love-hate relationship. Good thing the room justified the hassle.
I hoped Charli liked hers. If I’d had bigger balls, I’d have only mentioned a single room. Charli was nobody’s kid sister anymore. She had grown up independent and beautiful, and so sexy and desirable I ached thinking about her.
Back in the terminal, I had wanted to kiss her so badly, but what did she want? She took the offer of the second room without a second’s hesitation. Had I only imagined what I wanted to see in her eyes?
My phone chimed with an incoming text, probably the airline with an update for tomorrow’s departure. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, read the message and frowned.
Charlie had texted me, but what the hell did her message mean? She was standing me up for dinner? Did she get a better offer? From who? Shit!
I read her message again.
Wait a second. There was a Grand Canyon-sized difference between “I’m not hungry” and “I’m not hungry for food” depending on a man’s perspective. Those last two words offered much more room for interpretation.
My dick piped up and assured me she did.
“Down boy!” I muttered. Only one way to find out. My fingers flew across the keys typing, “Lots of different kinds of hunger.”
No. That sounded like I wanted to debate. I clicked and held down the erase key until all the letters so artlessly splattered on my screen disappeared into cyber-nothingness.
“How about a drink then?” I typed. We had agreed to meet in fifteen minutes. If she wasn’t hungry, maybe she simply meant she wanted a drink. I could test the waters, make sure we were on the same page without seeming like a complete jerk if we weren’t.
My dick twitched with irritation. If the dumb beast could talk it would have whined at my chicken shit obtuseness.
I erased the text, smiled and typed, “I think we should explore this hunger of yours,” and hit send.
Want more? Of course you do! We’re getting to the spicy bits now. Admit it, that’s what you’ve been waiting for.
Be sure to come back tomorrow for Part 11!