When the elevator opened, I stepped out, scanning the numbers until I found myself in front of his hotel room, fingertips resting on the gleaming wood, struggling for that perfect opening line. Simple was best. I’d apologize for my careless remark, relay my condolences, then return to my room. That would be that.
I tapped on the door and stepped back. Maybe he was asleep already. Maybe this would disturb him. Maybe he was angry. Maybe he wasn’t even in his room. I glanced at my watch, squinting at the hands. Was it really three in the morning? Had I lingered at the bar that long?
“Amara?” He leaned in the doorway, staring at me through bleary, red-rimmed eyes, adorably dishevelled in his unbuttoned shirt and wrinkled dress pants.
“Jake. I just wanted to … sorry. It’s late.”
He stepped aside and beckoned. “Come in.”
I closed my eyes for a moment before shuffling inside, taking in the low hum of the late-night talk show and the rumpled bed with its indented pillow. The true tell was the empty tumbler on the side table with the open bottle of Crown Royal beside it. “Not sleeping?”
He shrugged. “Drink?” Without waiting for my answer, he retrieved a glass from beside the coffee maker, poured a generous fifth, and pushed it into my hand. He refilled his own with a double shot.
“About before—”
“No need.” Jake shook his head. “To old friends.” He lifted his whiskey. “Cheers.”
By the time I’d taken a ginger sip, he’d drained his own and poured another. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about your wife.”
He sank onto the side of the bed, massaging his temples with one hand, the other dangling loosely between his knees, glass suspended from his fingertips.
“Are you okay?” I rescued his whiskey and set it aside, then sat beside him. After a moment, I slid my arm around him. Yet another stupid question. Obviously, he wasn’t handling his wife’s death well, but I was still his friend, wasn’t I?
Wordlessly, he turned, wrapping me in his arms and tucking his face against my neck, entwining his hand in my hair. “I can’t believe you came,” he whispered.
My heart practically broke as I hugged him tighter, closing my eyes and enjoying his closeness. The heat of his body. The wonderful earthy tang of him. Ahh, Jake. I turned my head and kissed his cheek, sighed, and then kissed him again, wanting him to understand I felt his pain. The third time I met tender lips, my knees trembling as warmth crept from my toes, his enticing scent invading my nostrils. A soft moan escaped low in my throat when he nibbled at that tender spot on my neck. His silky hair curled around my fingertips as I savoured the gentle sweep of his touch against my back and the sweet taste of orange on his tongue.
As one, we shifted, him rising above me, settling me deep into the bedding. I wrapped one arm around his neck and slid the other hand across his shoulders, then down to squeeze his tight ass, our kiss growing longer as he slid the strap of my dress aside and cupped my breast.
Jake stroked my inner thigh, working my dress over my head and tossing it aside, soon sending his shirt with it. “My beautiful Mare.”
Mah-ray. The deepness of his voice and the rolling wave of the r attached to this delightful Italian word brought on a shiver. I sighed against his lips. Mm-mm, this man’s kisses were delectable, riling me up as always. I loved stroking the smoothness of his bare back. Ah, feeling the hotness of our flesh melding …
Buzz … Buzz … Buzz …
The vibration on the bedside table dug into my consciousness, but just as quickly, the sound subsided.
He removed my bra, his lips grazing my neck, the light scruff on his jaw tickling my tender skin as he skimmed downward, brushing his fingers over my navel.
Buzz … Buzz … Buzz …
“Jake,” I muttered. “Phone.”
His pause lasted only for a second before he tangled his fingers in my hair.
Buzz … Buzz … Buzz …
“Ignore,” he mumbled. “Message.”
No problem. My only concern was his pants and how soon they were leaving his body. I ached for this fine man, longed for his naked …
Ding.
“Shit, they’re persistent.” He groaned, tucking his head against the crook of my neck before he released me. “I have to check.”
I remained motionless, struggling to control my breathing, missing the gentleness of his touch and the weight of him as he reached toward the bedside table. Kneading my palms against the sheets, I closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning, desperate to hide the inconvenient sight of the gold band on his finger.
“Sorry. It’s important.” He rubbed my arm and pecked my lips, the mattress quivering as he moved to the edge.
What the hell was I even doing here, sprawled across my ex’s bed while he dealt with his oh-so-important text? Who wanted to be the widower’s rebound girl, to be his drunken wedding shag? Clearly, the loss of his wife had sent him reeling and clouded his judgment if he thought an ex-girlfriend was the ideal candidate. He might even be seeing someone, and I was simply a convenient diversion. A wander along some distant memory lane.
“… what’s happening?”
That damn wedding ring, still on his finger. The one another woman had given him when he’d pledged to love her forever. Alysa. Alysa Cavallaro; the woman who’d replaced me.
What were the rules here? Were there any? Maybe rule number one should be to heed the fluttering red flag. To end to this particularly trippy out-of-body experience. To protect my ravaged heart.
“How high?” A latch clicked, and his voice grew muffled.
I stared at the closed bathroom door for several seconds before scuttling from his bed, hauling on my dress,
