Stinger

* * *

Grace

My heart slowed down when he swung the door open and gestured for me to walk inside the hotel room that looked pretty much just like mine. I had been shaking when I knocked on his room door, but then when he didn't answer, the disappointment that filled me was stronger than the nerves. I had been turned from his door and was rooting in my purse for some paper and a pen, not even knowing what I'd write yet, when he swung the door open and stood there in nothing more than a towel around his narrow hips. I had swallowed hard in order not to start drooling all over the hallway rug. He was lean, but had defined muscles and his skin was smooth and golden. He stood there looking completely comfortable in his skin. And why shouldn't he? He was used to disrobing for other's eyes. I pushed that thought aside, though, and told him why I was there. The look of happiness that spread over his face made me relax a little.

I walked inside and sat down on the bed, my nerves starting again when it hit me what I was doing. I looked around and realized I was shaking my knee. I crossed my legs and looked up at Carson, uncertain what to do. What was the protocol here? He was watching me, an amused expression on his face. "I'm gonna go put some clothes on. I'll be right back."

"Okay," I said, confused. Wasn't the point of this to take our clothes off? God, I felt like a hooker. I swallowed hard and considered bolting. What the hell was I doing? Maybe I hadn't really thought this through. It had sounded like a decent idea in my room, but now the reality of it had me feeling jittery and brittle.

Carson suddenly emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of worn jeans and a Boston Red Sox t-shirt. "Your granny's team?" I asked, gesturing to his shirt.

He looked down and then looked up at me, surprised. "Yeah. You remembered."

"You told me your granny was from Massachusetts an hour ago, Carson." I raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled but then looked thoughtful as he started pulling on his socks. "Yeah."

We were both silent as he pulled on his shoes.

"So how'd you get my room number anyway?" he asked.

I laughed softly. "I went back down to the front desk and spun a tale of romantic elevator love for Mr. Savard. I told him that I had lost you in the mix and needed to tell you that I couldn't live without you. Turns out, he's a romantic who was willing to bend the rules." I grinned.

He grinned back. "I'll be forever in Mr. Savard's debt."

He stood up. "Ready?" he asked, holding out his hand to me.

"Where are we going?"

"We're stopping by your hotel room so you can change and then I'm taking you to dinner."

"Oh. Um, okay."

"You are hungry, right?"

I thought about it. No, I feel like I'm going to throw up. "Yes, I'm hungry."

"Okay, then, let's go." He smiled at me.

I took his hand and stood up, and then followed him out of his room.

We stepped on the elevator and as it began its descent, we both looked at each other and grinned. "It would be like getting struck by lightning, right?" I asked a little nervously.

He smiled again as the elevator came to a stop at my floor. "Definitely."

We stepped into the hallway, and as we came to my room and I took out my key card, he came up right behind me and put his hands on the door next to each side of my head. I stilled, the key card still inches from the key slot. My breath hitched in my throat as his smell surrounded me–clean soap and Carson, that delicious, unidentifiable scent that had me wanting to rub against him like a cat in heat again. I closed my eyes as I felt his breath against my ear. He nuzzled me with his nose and his lips for a second before he whispered, "I'm glad you said yes."

God, I was so turned on I was shaking, a steady throb beginning in my core. I nodded jerkily and barely made the key card into the slot. I needed a cold shower if I was going to make it through dinner. I had never felt this level of lust, ever and I didn't know whether I liked it or not. It made me feel out of control, cloudy, desperate. The feeling was scary, unfamiliar. I didn't know what to do with it.

I grabbed some clothes and glanced back at Carson as I went into the bathroom, and he looked cool, calm and collected. He had fallen back on the bed and was flipping through the channels on the television. Meanwhile, I was about to go up in flames from a few whispered words. Just as I was about to shut the door, I spun around and came back out. Carson looked up at me questioningly. I cleared my throat, my mind racing. Should I stop this now? I opened my mouth and then closed it again. "Be out in a few minutes," I finally said.

He looked amused. "Take your time."

I nodded and closed the door behind me. It was already eight thirty and we were both hungry and so I showered quickly and started blowing my hair dry. I remembered Carson asking me to take it down in the elevator and so instead of putting it up like I usually did, I put some mousse in it and blew it partially dry. It fell down my back in long waves. It would dry fully on the way to the restaurant.

I put on a little bit of makeup and spritzed some perfume on. Taking a cue from what Carson was wearing, I had pulled out a pair of dark gray shorts and a loose, black, tunic-type top. It was casual but I still felt like I looked nice for a date. I paused. Was this a date? Or was this just pre-sex dinner between practical strangers? My hormones had simmered down under the cool spray of the shower, but now I was feeling nervous again. Maybe I just needed to stop trying to define things and go with it. God, I was so bad at that. I craved structure and definitions and control. And here I was throwing all of that to the wind. For sex. With a porn star. I put my hands over my mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle as I met my own wide, blue eyes in the mirror in front of me. How was I going to feel after this was all said and done? Was I really going to be able to dismiss this as a weekend romp and easily leave it behind? I mean, technically, it was my plan. Only, this wasn't anywhere near how I pictured it going down. Was I capable of this? My decision in my room had been too quick. I needed time to make a pro and con list. I needed a few minutes to–

A knock came at the bathroom door. "You in there talking yourself out of this, Buttercup?" Carson asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I pulled the bathroom door open and was met with Carson's beautiful face looking back at me. He was smiling, and before I knew it, he had taken my face in his hands and was kissing my lips in a way that distracted me from all my bathroom musings. It was what I needed. It was what I was here for, right? Maybe I needed the reminder. This didn't have to be complicated. I relaxed a little bit.

He leaned back and raised one eyebrow. I laughed a small laugh and shook my head at him, remembering that he had asked me a question. "No, let's go." 

CHAPTER 5

Carson

I grabbed Grace's hand as we walked out of the hotel. She looked over at me with a surprised expression on her face but didn't pull away. I was having a hard time looking away from her legs in those shorts and heels. From what I could tell, Grace's body was exceptional everywhere, but those legs… Christ, I never knew what a leg man I was until I got a glimpse of hers.

I took a quick glance over at her face and she still looked tense. I realized that I felt a little nervous too, but mine was with anticipation, not worry. She looked worried. That brain of hers was still working on this a mile a minute. I had known that that was what she was doing in the bathroom too by the way all the sounds stopped, and there was silence coming from the other side of the door. In my mind's eye, I could see her standing there talking herself out of this weekend and I felt a bolt of fear slide down my spine. I had her where I wanted her to be–I'd be damned if I was going to let her walk away. Not yet anyway.

Her feet slowed down a little bit as her eyes darted around nervously. "Carson, I–" But I didn't let her finish that thought. I knew she was trying to back out again.

I pulled her hand, leading her to the wall of the lobby, rather than toward the doors where we had been