and he chuckles. “Or stay!”
The two of them seem very different but somehow close. I can't figure it out. Paco is all lean, built sophistication, and the other guy is rough at the corners.
A tense silence covers us.
“I'm afraid I'll have to go clean up,” Paco finally says. This time my perusal is warranted because he brought attention to himself.
His hand is large around mine.
I swallow back fear. Hands are a problem.
My gaze shifts to Paco's face. It's nothing like the faces of the men who attacked me. High, broad cheekbones speak of European descent, and his eyes are large and well-spaced. His mouth … God, his mouth.
I could kiss him. I could.
Instead, I give him a smile. “Glad to see you're into hygiene, Paco.”
Light color warms his dusky complexion. “Yes,” he says quietly.
I feel a pang of regret. I hope I didn't make him feel… bad . “Good,” I say quickly, back-pedaling. “It's great to have met you. However, I'm—I need to be somewhere shortly.”
I need to meet Tor—my actual date.
So why can't I make my feet move?
Paco steps aside, sweeping his palm in front of me and says, “Of course, I don't mean to make you late.” His eyes move to my body, consuming me with the intensity of his gaze. “You look lovely.”
I hear, I want you.
Or that's what I want to hear.
His words send a thrill through me, resonating in the place I never let anyone touch. But I fight the other impulses too. Shame, fear and excitement collide in a mixed-up knot of confused emotions.
I stare for a moment longer, and I'm suddenly aware I can see deeply inside this man, as though he allows it.
Or maybe there's a man out there who is just that genuine.
I feel heat in my face and resist touching my flaming cheeks. “Thank you, Paco.”
He begins to move through the open doors. “We'll catch the other on its way up,” Paco says as he and the other man exit.
I feel a tug.
It's only then I realize he didn’t let go of my hand the entire time we spoke.
It felt so natural.
Our grip loosens as the elevator begins to close.
One green eye bores into me through the narrowing slit of the elevator doors, as though he'll etch the memory of my face into his mind. Then he disappears behind the steel.
My finger shakes as I depress the lobby button.
I back away from the softly illuminated panel until my butt smacks the bar inside the elevator.
My mind dissects the three minutes I spent in Paco's presence. I glance at the hand he touched, softly curling it into a fist and laying it against my heart.
He is the one on the top floor. He's staying in a suite that costs three thousand dollars a night.
Who is Paco?
*
My composure returns during my short ride to the ground floor, where I attempt to shake off the disconcerting chance meeting inside the elevator.
The heels of my shoes echo hollowly as I walk across the antique marble floors in the lobby.
Tor's limo is waiting at the curb of the hotel.
I take in his sheer physicality as he leans against the sleek car. Feet are crossed at the ankle, and muscular arms are folded across a barrel chest.
I've known him for thirty hours and feel as though I’ve cheated on him with a rich guy I met in the elevator. I know it's not rational. But I'm in unfamiliar waters. I nervously stroke my hands down my wool-blend cream slacks. The material is itchy against my palms.
Tor has shown me compassion and presents a link to my family. He already knows the thing I can't bear to tell anyone. There are so many firsts that I don't need to address with him. It makes things easier.
His eyes move down my outfit in clear approval. And even though it's light for the season, I wear what showcases my coloring. For someone as pale as I am, colors are limited. Woman who think being a natural blonde is so great haven't tried finding colors that work.
Can't help what you are, only who.
“Greta,” Tor says with a smile, pushing off from the side of the limo, and strides
The two of them seem very different but somehow close. I can't figure it out. Paco is all lean, built sophistication, and the other guy is rough at the corners.
A tense silence covers us.
“I'm afraid I'll have to go clean up,” Paco finally says. This time my perusal is warranted because he brought attention to himself.
His hand is large around mine.
I swallow back fear. Hands are a problem.
My gaze shifts to Paco's face. It's nothing like the faces of the men who attacked me. High, broad cheekbones speak of European descent, and his eyes are large and well-spaced. His mouth … God, his mouth.
I could kiss him. I could.
Instead, I give him a smile. “Glad to see you're into hygiene, Paco.”
Light color warms his dusky complexion. “Yes,” he says quietly.
I feel a pang of regret. I hope I didn't make him feel… bad . “Good,” I say quickly, back-pedaling. “It's great to have met you. However, I'm—I need to be somewhere shortly.”
I need to meet Tor—my actual date.
So why can't I make my feet move?
Paco steps aside, sweeping his palm in front of me and says, “Of course, I don't mean to make you late.” His eyes move to my body, consuming me with the intensity of his gaze. “You look lovely.”
I hear, I want you.
Or that's what I want to hear.
His words send a thrill through me, resonating in the place I never let anyone touch. But I fight the other impulses too. Shame, fear and excitement collide in a mixed-up knot of confused emotions.
I stare for a moment longer, and I'm suddenly aware I can see deeply inside this man, as though he allows it.
Or maybe there's a man out there who is just that genuine.
I feel heat in my face and resist touching my flaming cheeks. “Thank you, Paco.”
He begins to move through the open doors. “We'll catch the other on its way up,” Paco says as he and the other man exit.
I feel a tug.
It's only then I realize he didn’t let go of my hand the entire time we spoke.
It felt so natural.
Our grip loosens as the elevator begins to close.
One green eye bores into me through the narrowing slit of the elevator doors, as though he'll etch the memory of my face into his mind. Then he disappears behind the steel.
My finger shakes as I depress the lobby button.
I back away from the softly illuminated panel until my butt smacks the bar inside the elevator.
My mind dissects the three minutes I spent in Paco's presence. I glance at the hand he touched, softly curling it into a fist and laying it against my heart.
He is the one on the top floor. He's staying in a suite that costs three thousand dollars a night.
Who is Paco?
*
My composure returns during my short ride to the ground floor, where I attempt to shake off the disconcerting chance meeting inside the elevator.
The heels of my shoes echo hollowly as I walk across the antique marble floors in the lobby.
Tor's limo is waiting at the curb of the hotel.
I take in his sheer physicality as he leans against the sleek car. Feet are crossed at the ankle, and muscular arms are folded across a barrel chest.
I've known him for thirty hours and feel as though I’ve cheated on him with a rich guy I met in the elevator. I know it's not rational. But I'm in unfamiliar waters. I nervously stroke my hands down my wool-blend cream slacks. The material is itchy against my palms.
Tor has shown me compassion and presents a link to my family. He already knows the thing I can't bear to tell anyone. There are so many firsts that I don't need to address with him. It makes things easier.
His eyes move down my outfit in clear approval. And even though it's light for the season, I wear what showcases my coloring. For someone as pale as I am, colors are limited. Woman who think being a natural blonde is so great haven't tried finding colors that work.
Can't help what you are, only who.
“Greta,” Tor says with a smile, pushing off from the side of the limo, and strides
Similar Books
