I put my seat belt on before twisting sideways to face him. “James Dean was my dad’s favorite actor, and he always loved his car. So how fitting that I get to ride in a Spyder in my lifetime.”
“Hmmm…” he responds as he puts on his seatbelt.
Giving him a thumbs up, I say, “Hey, I really do like your car. It’s actually pretty cool.”
His huge grin returns and his dimples blare in high definition. Then, just as I remember him doing in a gallant attempt to avoid any awkwardness in conversation, he changes the subject.
He starts the car and pulls out of the garage, heading down the street toward the Las Vegas Strip. “Where to?”
I tell him where I’m staying, and after what feels like only a few minutes, we pull up to the Hard Rock Hotel. He puts the car in park and glances over at me. “Stay there. I’ll get your door.”
Walking around to my side of the car, he points and nods to the valet indicating he himself will get my door. After opening it, he braces his hands on each side of the doorframe and leans in. He surrounds me with his intoxicating scent and overwhelming sexiness before he reaches for my hand.
I shake my head and roll my eyes at his over the top chivalrous gesture but thoroughly enjoy the whole dynamic of it. Stepping out of the very low car, I clutch his hand and laugh a little. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He guides me forward to close my door. Then, half-grinning he looks away, almost shyly. “You’re welcome.”
He’s so adorable.
Standing very close, he gingerly pushes me back against the car, again bracing his hands on each side of me. He’s close, but still not close enough. His eyes shift back to mine; they are piercing me with their intensity, sending shivers down my spine. As he leans in toward me, he whispers in my ear. “Sir. I think I like the sound of that.”
He shrugs his shoulders and stares at me with his mesmerizing green eyes. He chuckles and says, “What, a guy can’t be a gentleman?”
I smile, actually impressed, and laugh a little myself. “I never said that.”
He hands his car keys and some cash to the valet. “Just the bags in the trunk go to this beautiful girl’s room. We won’t be long.”
Hand in hand again, he leads me to the front desk. He stands close to me and I feel his hand occasionally, maybe accidentally, brush against my outer thigh. Giving my name to the cute female clerk, he checks me in. She sends him a flirty smile and asks if a credit card should be left on file for incidentals. He smirks and hands over his card. When I protest he just shrugs and winks at me. “Doesn’t matter, I don’t think you will be charging anything.”
I have always been an independent person; even with Ben, I would exude my independence, often getting really upset if I thought he was infringing on it. Strange, how for some reason, I’m not the least bit upset that this adorably charming man took control of getting me checked into my room. Actually, I find his actions somewhat of a turn on.
Before handing me my room key, he looks at it while sliding his tongue over his lower lip and dragging his teeth across it. “I’ll wait in the bar, unless you need some help getting to your room.”
I stare at his lower lip and try to control my heavy breathing. I choose to focus on his flirty comment and not his overwhelming sexy charm. With that, I just shake my head at him. Flirting back I bite my bottom lip and scan the length of his long, lean body in a very obvious manner. Then cocking my head I say, “I’m good, thanks.”
He responds with a slight groaning noise, and his eyes flicker over me. I quickly turn, laughing to myself as I walk to the elevators without even glancing back. When I reach my room, I call the concierge and arrange to have my bags delivered. While waiting, I lie on the bed trying to figure out what is going on with my feelings and emotions. I feel a connection to River. We have the same ease we did the first night I met him. He’s adorably charming, beyond charismatic, and more than attractive. All of the same qualities that made me want to stay with him that night at the bar and that make me want to spend more time with him now. It’s like he’s reenacting parts of that night even though he doesn’t seem to remember our encounter.
I look around my hotel room at the pictures of guitars on the walls, and thoughts of wanting someone to touch me, kiss me, someone to be intimate with me, flood my mind. Glancing out the window, I begin to question myself, and what I’m doing with River. Am I betraying Ben? How much time is enough time? Am I ready to be with someone else? I have only ever had sex with Ben, what if I suck at intimacy with somebody else? Is this dinner actually a date, or is this just a business dinner? Am I prepared for a one-night stand with the man who has captured my attention faster than anyone I have ever known, twice? With everything racing through my mind, I’m only certain of the answer to the last question. Maybe I am. So for now I put away all my doubts and questions and tuck the guilt away as well.
A knock on the door takes me out of my thoughts and I jolt off the bed. Oh yeah, my luggage. Opening the door, I ask the bellman to wait a sec while I get some money out of my purse. Answering quickly, he tells me it has already been taken care of by a man wearing a Fender t-shirt and black leather jacket. All I can do is smile.
As I close the door, the hotel room phone rings and I slide across the bed to answer it. River’s seductive voice penetrates the line, “Just wanted you to know I made dinner reservations at N9 Steakhouse, in case you want to change, or not. They couldn’t fit us in until eight, is that okay?”
Lying on the bed, clicking my heels together I answer, “Sounds great actually. I’ll change and come down.”
I can hear him chuckling on the other end of the phone as he asks, “Do you need help?”
Giggling, I roll over and standup so I can hang up the phone. “I’m good. Thanks though. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I hide my face in my hands. I can’t help but laugh out loud at the exchanges that have taken place between us over the last few hours. In no way would I ever classify our conversations as professional. He’s flirting with me and I’m flirting back! It’s fun and exciting and I feel almost reborn.
Thanking God that I packed extra clothes, I’m happy that I had trouble deciding what to wear this morning. I packed a few different outfits in case I decided to change before the meeting, along with clothes for a quick morning run.
Opening my suitcase, I take out a dress. It has a crisscrossed silk top with an asymmetrical black leather mini skirt bottom and a drawstring waist. It’s edgy and short, perfect for dinner with an almost famous, adorably charming rock star. I pair it with my black and nude ankle strap pumps and silver clutch.
Since I never change my jewelry, my wardrobe for tonight is set. I have worn the same jewelry every day for as many years as I can remember. My jewelry ensemble consists of a pair of two carat diamond studs, given to me by my parents for my thirteenth birthday; my grandmother’s vintage watch with a black satin band and diamond surround; my aunt’s white pearl and black pearl bracelets; my most recently added Cartier bangle; and my engagement ring from Ben that I still wear on a chain around my neck.
Looking in the mirror as I quickly strip down to jump in the shower, I wince at what I see. Knowing actual clothing choice is irrelevant to men but looking sexy certainly isn’t, I shake my head at myself. That’s definitely not sexy looking back at me. My tall thin frame is now soft. I’ve lost most of my muscle tone along with the definition I spent years creating at the gym and in Pilates’ classes. What is left is merely skin and bones. My legs have very little shape and any semblance of the small chest I once had is now gone, even the bra I just removed is too big. Suddenly I have doubts that the hot, attractive, and charming man waiting for me downstairs will even want what I’m willing to give.
Deciding to just let fate take its course, I take a shower, brush my teeth, fix my face, spritz on some body spray, and put on my too big black bra and panties, before slipping on my dress and shoes. I look in the mirror again and flip my hair over to brush it so that my now ashen blonde hair falls in a cascading mess down my back, and then I give myself a self-assuring smile.
As I look away from the bathroom mirror, I turn back and decide I probably shouldn’t wear my engagement ring when I go out with another man. It just doesn’t feel right. I decide that just for tonight, I should remove my necklace. As I do, visions of Ben slipping it on my finger come to mind, and I try to suppress them, but that was a happy time for me, and I actually smile at the memory.
It’s only once I have actually removed the necklace and kiss my engagement ring that sadness instantly fills my heart. I swallow hard to hold back my emotion. I almost feel like I should be begging his forgiveness for my thoughts, my wants, and my needs. As I continue to look at the ring, a constant reminder of Ben, I know I will never forget him, but I have to put him away just for now. So I kiss my ring one more time and turn to lock it in the safe, saying a soft I will always love you.
While gathering my things, I hear a faint knock on the door. I open it without even looking to see who it is. He’s standing there, leaning against the doorframe with his head down and a beautiful grin on his face. I can’t help myself and I scan his long lean body just for a quick look. He’s tall, lean, slightly muscular like a swimmer, and has crazy light-brown hair with copper here and there. He’s insanely attractive. When my eyes meet his, he simply undoes me, completely mesmerizing me.
For the first time today, I feel the same electric pull that I felt between us that night. I also finally realize what the something else was that I couldn’t figure out back then; what was driving me to him so long ago. It is awareness; not only am I completely aware of him, but he’s also completely aware of me.
Still standing in the doorway, I catch him studying the length of my body, and then he leans in toward me. Unable to control myself, my body unconsciously sways closer to his, and a small noise escapes my throat. I hear him inhale in response. We are so close, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he rests his forehead on mine and I can feel his breath on my jaw. Our foreheads remain connected for a few short seconds before he glides his nose over my cheek. Exhaling a heavy breath as his mouth lightly grazes my ear, he whispers, “You look beautiful, perfect really.”
His sexy moves and his closeness catch me off guard. My stomach is a mix of butterflies and flips. I didn’t expect his contact nor did I expect his kind words; words that I just doubted about myself. Biting my bottom lip and swallowing hard, I resist the urge to pull him over to my bed and just be done with the semantics. Instead I decide to take a step back and wrap my arms around myself to stop my uncontrollable quivering.
With his gleaming green eyes gazing at me so intensely, I manage to find my voice and say in an octave or two off, “Thank you kind sir, did I take too long?”
Before he can comment, his phone chimes, but he ignores it. The distraction is fine with me because it keeps him from noticing my reaction to his touch. He continues to look at me with that mesmerizing look of total awareness. I almost feel like he’s deciding if he wants to eat me for dinner, which would suit me just fine.
Stepping back, he braces his arms on both sides of the doorframe and shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to make sure your bags were delivered.”
I smile warmly at this thoughtfulness and inhale his intoxicating scent. “Yes they were, thank you very much.”
Stepping under his arms and into the hallway, I turn to glance at him as the door closes. “I’m ready.”
I grin when I hear that Hmmm… sound from him again. I have figured out that he makes that sound either when I do something that is unexpected or when he finds something I said or did funny.
He catches up with me, and once again, takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. Exiting the building, we walk to his car that is still waiting for us out front.
Driving out of the parking lot, he pulls his car over to the side of the road and cocks his head toward me. “Did I tell you how amazing you look?” His voice is soft with a rough whispering, raspy tone.
Losing myself in his green eyes, I answer in complete honesty. “Yes actually, you did, but I don’t mind hearing it from you again.”
With his eyes locked on mine, he nods his head. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Grinning delightfully, he turns back to his driver position and pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Mind if I change before we head out?”
He pauses a second to look at me, and when he sees me shake my head, he continues, not waiting for a verbal response. “You can grab a drink while I take a quick shower.”
Then thumbing to the back seat where his guitar is, he says, “I have to drop my guitar off anyway, I had a photo shoot before our meeting and they wanted pictures of me with her.”
I giggle, despite myself. Her? He calls his guitar her?
“What?” he asks in mock offense.
Still giggling, I ask, “Does your girl have a name?”
Chuckling back at me, he answers, “Stella, her name is Stella, and don’t make fun. She’s the only girl I have ever really counted on.”
Having stopped my giggling and replaced it with appreciation, I say, “I’m not making fun, I actually get it. I feel the same way about my camera.” And for good measure, I laugh a little and say, “Maybe I should name him.”
The humor having entered back into our conversation, he chuckles along. “Him?”
“Him, her, I don’t know. I’ve never given it that much thought, but having a girl sleep in my room with me every night isn’t my thing.” I say this knowing it will elicit a reaction.
He’s full out chuckling now. “Hmmm . . . you should see the picture I have in my head right now, no pun intended.”
“Hmmm…” he responds as he puts on his seatbelt.
Giving him a thumbs up, I say, “Hey, I really do like your car. It’s actually pretty cool.”
His huge grin returns and his dimples blare in high definition. Then, just as I remember him doing in a gallant attempt to avoid any awkwardness in conversation, he changes the subject.
He starts the car and pulls out of the garage, heading down the street toward the Las Vegas Strip. “Where to?”
I tell him where I’m staying, and after what feels like only a few minutes, we pull up to the Hard Rock Hotel. He puts the car in park and glances over at me. “Stay there. I’ll get your door.”
Walking around to my side of the car, he points and nods to the valet indicating he himself will get my door. After opening it, he braces his hands on each side of the doorframe and leans in. He surrounds me with his intoxicating scent and overwhelming sexiness before he reaches for my hand.
I shake my head and roll my eyes at his over the top chivalrous gesture but thoroughly enjoy the whole dynamic of it. Stepping out of the very low car, I clutch his hand and laugh a little. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He guides me forward to close my door. Then, half-grinning he looks away, almost shyly. “You’re welcome.”
He’s so adorable.
Standing very close, he gingerly pushes me back against the car, again bracing his hands on each side of me. He’s close, but still not close enough. His eyes shift back to mine; they are piercing me with their intensity, sending shivers down my spine. As he leans in toward me, he whispers in my ear. “Sir. I think I like the sound of that.”
He shrugs his shoulders and stares at me with his mesmerizing green eyes. He chuckles and says, “What, a guy can’t be a gentleman?”
I smile, actually impressed, and laugh a little myself. “I never said that.”
He hands his car keys and some cash to the valet. “Just the bags in the trunk go to this beautiful girl’s room. We won’t be long.”
Hand in hand again, he leads me to the front desk. He stands close to me and I feel his hand occasionally, maybe accidentally, brush against my outer thigh. Giving my name to the cute female clerk, he checks me in. She sends him a flirty smile and asks if a credit card should be left on file for incidentals. He smirks and hands over his card. When I protest he just shrugs and winks at me. “Doesn’t matter, I don’t think you will be charging anything.”
I have always been an independent person; even with Ben, I would exude my independence, often getting really upset if I thought he was infringing on it. Strange, how for some reason, I’m not the least bit upset that this adorably charming man took control of getting me checked into my room. Actually, I find his actions somewhat of a turn on.
Before handing me my room key, he looks at it while sliding his tongue over his lower lip and dragging his teeth across it. “I’ll wait in the bar, unless you need some help getting to your room.”
I stare at his lower lip and try to control my heavy breathing. I choose to focus on his flirty comment and not his overwhelming sexy charm. With that, I just shake my head at him. Flirting back I bite my bottom lip and scan the length of his long, lean body in a very obvious manner. Then cocking my head I say, “I’m good, thanks.”
He responds with a slight groaning noise, and his eyes flicker over me. I quickly turn, laughing to myself as I walk to the elevators without even glancing back. When I reach my room, I call the concierge and arrange to have my bags delivered. While waiting, I lie on the bed trying to figure out what is going on with my feelings and emotions. I feel a connection to River. We have the same ease we did the first night I met him. He’s adorably charming, beyond charismatic, and more than attractive. All of the same qualities that made me want to stay with him that night at the bar and that make me want to spend more time with him now. It’s like he’s reenacting parts of that night even though he doesn’t seem to remember our encounter.
I look around my hotel room at the pictures of guitars on the walls, and thoughts of wanting someone to touch me, kiss me, someone to be intimate with me, flood my mind. Glancing out the window, I begin to question myself, and what I’m doing with River. Am I betraying Ben? How much time is enough time? Am I ready to be with someone else? I have only ever had sex with Ben, what if I suck at intimacy with somebody else? Is this dinner actually a date, or is this just a business dinner? Am I prepared for a one-night stand with the man who has captured my attention faster than anyone I have ever known, twice? With everything racing through my mind, I’m only certain of the answer to the last question. Maybe I am. So for now I put away all my doubts and questions and tuck the guilt away as well.
A knock on the door takes me out of my thoughts and I jolt off the bed. Oh yeah, my luggage. Opening the door, I ask the bellman to wait a sec while I get some money out of my purse. Answering quickly, he tells me it has already been taken care of by a man wearing a Fender t-shirt and black leather jacket. All I can do is smile.
As I close the door, the hotel room phone rings and I slide across the bed to answer it. River’s seductive voice penetrates the line, “Just wanted you to know I made dinner reservations at N9 Steakhouse, in case you want to change, or not. They couldn’t fit us in until eight, is that okay?”
Lying on the bed, clicking my heels together I answer, “Sounds great actually. I’ll change and come down.”
I can hear him chuckling on the other end of the phone as he asks, “Do you need help?”
Giggling, I roll over and standup so I can hang up the phone. “I’m good. Thanks though. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I hide my face in my hands. I can’t help but laugh out loud at the exchanges that have taken place between us over the last few hours. In no way would I ever classify our conversations as professional. He’s flirting with me and I’m flirting back! It’s fun and exciting and I feel almost reborn.
Thanking God that I packed extra clothes, I’m happy that I had trouble deciding what to wear this morning. I packed a few different outfits in case I decided to change before the meeting, along with clothes for a quick morning run.
Opening my suitcase, I take out a dress. It has a crisscrossed silk top with an asymmetrical black leather mini skirt bottom and a drawstring waist. It’s edgy and short, perfect for dinner with an almost famous, adorably charming rock star. I pair it with my black and nude ankle strap pumps and silver clutch.
Since I never change my jewelry, my wardrobe for tonight is set. I have worn the same jewelry every day for as many years as I can remember. My jewelry ensemble consists of a pair of two carat diamond studs, given to me by my parents for my thirteenth birthday; my grandmother’s vintage watch with a black satin band and diamond surround; my aunt’s white pearl and black pearl bracelets; my most recently added Cartier bangle; and my engagement ring from Ben that I still wear on a chain around my neck.
Looking in the mirror as I quickly strip down to jump in the shower, I wince at what I see. Knowing actual clothing choice is irrelevant to men but looking sexy certainly isn’t, I shake my head at myself. That’s definitely not sexy looking back at me. My tall thin frame is now soft. I’ve lost most of my muscle tone along with the definition I spent years creating at the gym and in Pilates’ classes. What is left is merely skin and bones. My legs have very little shape and any semblance of the small chest I once had is now gone, even the bra I just removed is too big. Suddenly I have doubts that the hot, attractive, and charming man waiting for me downstairs will even want what I’m willing to give.
Deciding to just let fate take its course, I take a shower, brush my teeth, fix my face, spritz on some body spray, and put on my too big black bra and panties, before slipping on my dress and shoes. I look in the mirror again and flip my hair over to brush it so that my now ashen blonde hair falls in a cascading mess down my back, and then I give myself a self-assuring smile.
As I look away from the bathroom mirror, I turn back and decide I probably shouldn’t wear my engagement ring when I go out with another man. It just doesn’t feel right. I decide that just for tonight, I should remove my necklace. As I do, visions of Ben slipping it on my finger come to mind, and I try to suppress them, but that was a happy time for me, and I actually smile at the memory.
It’s only once I have actually removed the necklace and kiss my engagement ring that sadness instantly fills my heart. I swallow hard to hold back my emotion. I almost feel like I should be begging his forgiveness for my thoughts, my wants, and my needs. As I continue to look at the ring, a constant reminder of Ben, I know I will never forget him, but I have to put him away just for now. So I kiss my ring one more time and turn to lock it in the safe, saying a soft I will always love you.
While gathering my things, I hear a faint knock on the door. I open it without even looking to see who it is. He’s standing there, leaning against the doorframe with his head down and a beautiful grin on his face. I can’t help myself and I scan his long lean body just for a quick look. He’s tall, lean, slightly muscular like a swimmer, and has crazy light-brown hair with copper here and there. He’s insanely attractive. When my eyes meet his, he simply undoes me, completely mesmerizing me.
For the first time today, I feel the same electric pull that I felt between us that night. I also finally realize what the something else was that I couldn’t figure out back then; what was driving me to him so long ago. It is awareness; not only am I completely aware of him, but he’s also completely aware of me.
Still standing in the doorway, I catch him studying the length of my body, and then he leans in toward me. Unable to control myself, my body unconsciously sways closer to his, and a small noise escapes my throat. I hear him inhale in response. We are so close, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he rests his forehead on mine and I can feel his breath on my jaw. Our foreheads remain connected for a few short seconds before he glides his nose over my cheek. Exhaling a heavy breath as his mouth lightly grazes my ear, he whispers, “You look beautiful, perfect really.”
His sexy moves and his closeness catch me off guard. My stomach is a mix of butterflies and flips. I didn’t expect his contact nor did I expect his kind words; words that I just doubted about myself. Biting my bottom lip and swallowing hard, I resist the urge to pull him over to my bed and just be done with the semantics. Instead I decide to take a step back and wrap my arms around myself to stop my uncontrollable quivering.
With his gleaming green eyes gazing at me so intensely, I manage to find my voice and say in an octave or two off, “Thank you kind sir, did I take too long?”
Before he can comment, his phone chimes, but he ignores it. The distraction is fine with me because it keeps him from noticing my reaction to his touch. He continues to look at me with that mesmerizing look of total awareness. I almost feel like he’s deciding if he wants to eat me for dinner, which would suit me just fine.
Stepping back, he braces his arms on both sides of the doorframe and shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to make sure your bags were delivered.”
I smile warmly at this thoughtfulness and inhale his intoxicating scent. “Yes they were, thank you very much.”
Stepping under his arms and into the hallway, I turn to glance at him as the door closes. “I’m ready.”
I grin when I hear that Hmmm… sound from him again. I have figured out that he makes that sound either when I do something that is unexpected or when he finds something I said or did funny.
He catches up with me, and once again, takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. Exiting the building, we walk to his car that is still waiting for us out front.
Driving out of the parking lot, he pulls his car over to the side of the road and cocks his head toward me. “Did I tell you how amazing you look?” His voice is soft with a rough whispering, raspy tone.
Losing myself in his green eyes, I answer in complete honesty. “Yes actually, you did, but I don’t mind hearing it from you again.”
With his eyes locked on mine, he nods his head. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Grinning delightfully, he turns back to his driver position and pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Mind if I change before we head out?”
He pauses a second to look at me, and when he sees me shake my head, he continues, not waiting for a verbal response. “You can grab a drink while I take a quick shower.”
Then thumbing to the back seat where his guitar is, he says, “I have to drop my guitar off anyway, I had a photo shoot before our meeting and they wanted pictures of me with her.”
I giggle, despite myself. Her? He calls his guitar her?
“What?” he asks in mock offense.
Still giggling, I ask, “Does your girl have a name?”
Chuckling back at me, he answers, “Stella, her name is Stella, and don’t make fun. She’s the only girl I have ever really counted on.”
Having stopped my giggling and replaced it with appreciation, I say, “I’m not making fun, I actually get it. I feel the same way about my camera.” And for good measure, I laugh a little and say, “Maybe I should name him.”
The humor having entered back into our conversation, he chuckles along. “Him?”
“Him, her, I don’t know. I’ve never given it that much thought, but having a girl sleep in my room with me every night isn’t my thing.” I say this knowing it will elicit a reaction.
He’s full out chuckling now. “Hmmm . . . you should see the picture I have in my head right now, no pun intended.”
