Peeling back the comforter, Olivia dropped her feet to the plush carpet and slipped from bed as carefully as she could, to avoid waking him. He was sprawled on his back and, thankfully, dead to the world. She tiptoed to the living room to collect her clothes. It didn’t take long to figure out she was short one bra.
“Damn!” She scanned the dark room again. Where could it be? She’d looked everywhere. Well, everywhere except the bedroom, although she doubted it had made it that far. It was her favorite bra, but it was a sixty-five dollar piece of luxury she was willing to sacrifice in order to avoid waking him. They’d had an amazing night together, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hang around and chat about it.
Hell, she could hardly wrap her mind around the fact she’d actually done it. No, what she needed right then was to put her brain on lockdown and focus on getting out of there before he woke up.
After grabbing her purse, she shut herself in the bathroom. She put on her wrinkled clothes, quickly tugged a brush through her hair, and refastened her ponytail. Time to steel herself for a swift, ninja-like exit.
She cracked the bathroom door and peeked out, relieved to find he was still sound asleep. They hadn’t slept much and there was a good chance he’d sleep late into the morning, but she wasn’t planning to stick around to find out. Opening the door just enough to slip through, she forced herself to walk slowly from the bedroom, despite the urge to make a mad dash for it. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up and find her running out the door like a lunatic.
When she reached the front door to the suite, she did a mental happy dance and threw the lock back as gingerly as possible. The bolt slid home with a loud thwack, ringing through the suite like a gunshot.
She held her breath, praying he hadn’t heard. After counting to three, she opened the door carefully, closed it, and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside knob.
Safely in the hall, she sighed with contentment while she waited for the elevator. In a few short minutes she’d return to the real world, losing herself in the city’s masses, the warm glow of great sex plastered all over her face.
She hated to admit it, but if this was what the walk of shame felt like, she just might be able to get used to it. Too bad she’d never see Cole again. They’d had an incredible night together and she’d felt connected to him.
Scratch that.
This was a one shot deal—one night only, no repeat performances. She needed to get her head on straight and forget about Cole Bennett. This was going to be a big week, possibly the biggest of her life. Now was the time to remain focused, not turn into some sex-crazed nympho.
By this time Monday, he would be a distant memory—one she seriously doubted any other man could live up to, but a memory nonetheless. That was just how it had to be.
…
Cole rolled over and reached for Olivia, wondering how she felt about morning sex. Unfortunately, all he got for his efforts was a handful of the overstuffed down comforter, which definitely wasn’t going to get the job done. He sat up, quickly scanning the room.
The open bathroom door confirmed what he already knew: she’d bailed on him. No need to check the living room. Olivia was gone and chances were she wouldn’t be returning with a piping hot cup of coffee.
Normally he’d be relieved at the prospect of not having to deal with awkward morning-after pleasantries, but he’d never had a chance to get her number. Plus, he had another problem. He was hard as a rock.
There wasn’t much he could do about the latter except take a cold shower and let nature run its course, but damn if he didn’t feel disappointed—and a little insulted—at Olivia’s sneaking out. Would it have killed her to say goodbye? He knew she’d had a good time last night. There was no denying her responsiveness or the pleasure they’d given one another.
So what then? Was she having second thoughts about her decision to come back to his room? Wouldn’t that be a kick in the balls? He’d just about decided last night he wanted to take her to dinner. The urge to unravel the mystery that was Olivia Masterson was pretty damn strong. Even stronger was the urge to explore their scorching chemistry in the bedroom.
He had her first and last name. It would be easy enough to track her down…except that was creepy and probably qualified as stalking. And Cole Bennett definitely wasn’t that guy. He didn’t have to chase women; they had always come to him freely, no strings attached.
“Shit,” he groaned, falling back on the bed and slinging an arm across his face. He needed to get a grip. One night in the city and he was pining like a teenage girl? No fucking way. There were millions of women in New York and he wasn’t about to get hung up on one woman, no matter how great her ass was. It wasn’t his style.