Flat out, p.2
Flat Out, page 2
Her hands drop away from her face and her eyes narrow. The fissure of heat that runs down my spine threatens to flood this elevator, turning the temperature up, and giving Alyssia something to really fan herself over.
“What question is that?”
“Why did the troll dump you? Did he find out that you have a secret fetish for ugly guys?”
She gasps again, driving me to continue.
“Okay, wasn’t that. Did he discover something really embarrassing like you have a sixth toe?”
I have to stifle a grin when her eyes bug out of her skull.
“I don’t have a sixth toe.”
“Are you sure?” I glance down at her booted feet and then back up at her.
“Even if I did have a sixth toe, is that something to make fun of?”
I point to my chest. “You’re upset with me? But your facially challenged boyfriend is the one who broke up with you over it.”
“I do not have a sixth toe!” She stomps her foot.
I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “So you say, but …” I drift off and allow my gaze drop to her feet.
“And I’m not about to take off my boots to prove it to you either.”
“Suit yourself.”
She begins pacing again.
“Did he get tired of you snoring in the middle of the night?”
She pauses and glares.
“That’s it isn’t it? You know they have machines to help with that sort of thing.”
“I don’t snore.” Her voice drips with ice.
“How do you know? You’re asleep when it hap—”
“He said I was emotionally unavailable,” she blurts out as she begins walking back and forth again. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” She throws up her hands in frustration.
Alyssia stops and turns to me.
“I mean, isn’t that what women say about men?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. “But not Hudson. He’s getting a Ph.D. in psychology so he thinks he knows what he’s talking about. Guess what his dissertation is on?”
“I’m going to say—”
“Yeah, emotional vulnerability in romantic partnerships or whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, you shouldn’t eavesdrop on private conversations.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have private conversations in public.”
“I wasn’t having the conversation.” She points to her chest, and I have to force my eyes not to follow that finger.
“My friend was. I was trying to change the subject.”
I make a sucking sound with my mouth and cock my head to the side, contemplatively. “Gotta say, that’s kind of a point for the troll’s case on emotional unavailability.”
Her lips fall open.
My stomach muscles clench at the round shape of those parted lips.
“What the hell gives you the right to judge me? You don’t even know me. You’re just a stranger that—”
“Pulled you from the edge of a panic attack in a stuck elevator,” I finish for her.
She stands there speechless, the air surrounding us charging in the silence. A buzzing starts in my ears as our eyes lock in on one another’s. Neither of us dare to look away.
“Hello?” Crackles through the elevator’s speaker.
Alyssia startles out of her stupor, turning toward the emergency button.
“Is anyone in there? Mr. Townsend?”
I glance up toward the elevator’s camera and wave before pressing the button.
“We’re here.”
“We’ll have you out right away.”
Regret washes over me.
CHAPTER 2
Alyssia
“Mr. Townsend, we at the Palazzo apologize for the double inconvenience of your evening …” the hotel manager, who arrived five minutes after the technicians got our elevator unstuck, apologizes to the guy standing beside me profusely.
“Double inconvenience.” What’s that about? I wonder to myself.
My eyes have a mind of their own, forcing me to glance over once again and take in this Mr. Townsend’s perfectly sculpted jawline. It’s covered by light brown, almost blond strands of hair from a neatly trimmed beard.
The hairs of his beard set against the golden-brown shade of his skin is an interesting contrast. Match that with the striking seafoam eyes, the thick, slashing eyebrows, and short but curly light brown locks and it makes for a pretty tempting package.
Too bad I don’t bother with men this attractive.
Not worth the trouble.
I take a step sideways to create more space between our bodies. While I could’ve sworn his full attention was on the manager, his gaze cuts over to me the moment I move away.
The way his eyes narrow a smidge feels like a scolding. As if I’ve done something to garner his disapproval and he’s giving me a slim chance to fix it.
Even as my temper tries to flare in rebellion, my heartbeat finds its way down to the space between my thighs.
It’s that awakened desire that wins out over my common sense, and I take a step closer, erasing the gap I just created.
He gives me another glance, his lips spread into what could be interpreted as approval.
“Just Travis is fine,” he tells the manager.
So that’s his name.
“I’m sure it’s a technical issue that’ll be taken care of as quickly as possible.”
The authority in his voice surprises me.
I want to know who he is. At what I guess to be around six foot one, he towers over the hotel manager by at least six inches, but it’s not his height that’s earning him such deference. The apologies being thrown his way suggests he’s a celebrity or something.
With a face like that I highly suspect he’s done some sort of work in front of a camera.
I wrack my brain trying to recall if I’ve seen him in any films or television shows. Not likely since he doesn’t have a French or Korean accent, which make up about ninety percent of the media I watch these days.
“And your companion. Were you hurt, madam?” I blink at the manager whose eyes are now on me.
“Oh, I’m not his—”
“It was touch and go for a minute there,” Travis says, casually slipping his arm around my waist.
My mind glitches at his audacity.
But my body? Well, it has a different reaction entirely. I actually lean into him.
“Isn’t that right?” he asks, staring down at me.
The entirety of my concentration collapses down to his lips that form a perfectly shaped bow. I want to trace it with my finger.
Never have I ever paid such close attention to shape of a man’s mouth. But this man …
That mouth starts moving, forming words I don’t hear the first time.
“What?”
“Is there anything these gentlemen can get for you? To make up for the trouble of being inconvenienced.”
No, nipples, do not harden!
The sound of his voice. It’s all smooth, deep, and a direct invitation to the space between my thighs that has continued to host its own heartbeat.
And his arm is still around my waist.
“N-No.” I clear my throat. “I’m fine.” This I say to the manager because I can’t stare him in the eyes for too much longer without losing a piece of my sanity—as if I haven’t already.
“Thank you, gentleman.”
“Thank you, Mr. Town—Travis. We look forward to seeing your performance this weekend.”
Oh, so he’s a performer. I wonder what kind. Musician? Acrobat? Stage actor?
I’m still mulling over career options when I notice the manager and hotel technician are halfway down the hallway.
That’s when I finally gather myself enough to step out of his hold.
“Well, that was an adventure.” I brush invisible lint off of my dress before lifting my chin. “Thanks for your help in the, um …” I tip my head in the direction of the elevators. “I’m heading to my room now.”
I go to take a step and stop. My gaze moves upward toward the top of the elevators.
“Fifty-three?” I shriek. “How did we make it to the fifty-third floor?”
“You don’t recall that interesting ride we took up?” he asks, moving in front of me.
I grit my teeth to keep from snapping at him. The idea of having to get on the elevator again to go back down to my room on the twentieth floor, causes a droplet of sweat to form at my temple.
I've had enough of being trapped in tight spaces for one night. A lifetime, really.
“I guess I’ll take the stairs down,” I mumble to myself.
“Or,” he drags out the word, “I have another idea.”
My forehead wrinkles at the not-so-subtle innuendo in his tone. I would say it’s a turn off, but my already hardened nipples and the strumming between my legs calls me a liar.
“Do I even want to know?”
He holds up the box of food in his hands. “Are you hungry?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and suppress the butterflies that decide to make an appearance in the pit of my belly.
I go to tell him no, but what comes out instead is, “I haven’t eaten dinner tonight.”
I’d planned to order room service after Kandace left to head back to her hotel where she’s staying with her husband.
“Let me feed you.” He lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “It’s the least I can do for reminding you that your troll boyfriend was the one to dump you and not the other way around.”
My breath hitches. “I’ll join you under one condition: that we drop him as a topic of conversation.”
The movement of his shoulder as he lifts and lowers it is sexy as hell. “Fine by me. I don’t like talking about people who aren’t relevant anyway.”
I raise an eyebrow at his cockiness.
“Dinner,” he says.
The next thing I know, his strong, firm hand wraps around mine, guiding me to the door of his suite.
The last thought I have as I enter is, I am not going to sleep with this man.
CHAPTER 3
Alyssia
“You should’ve ordered two servings,” I say, peering down at the last piece of calamari on Travis’ plate.
“If I knew I was having company, I would’ve.”
My lips fall into a frown when he spears the perfectly breaded and fried piece of seafood with his fork, but instead of eating the delicious morsel himself, he holds it up to my lips.
Travis stares into my eyes, patiently waiting for me to open my mouth to receive the gift of the last bite of the meal we just shared.
When I do, the glint in his eyes mirrors the Las Vegas Strip lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his suite.
He watches me eat with a rapt attention that comes close to stealing my breath. I chew slowly, enjoying the way his gaze travels downward from my eyes to my nose, to the movement of my jaw, farther down to my neck as I swallow. He observes it all.
“Did you get enough?”
I nearly miss the question as my mind begins wandering into dangerous territory. I do my best to hold the promise I made to myself before stepping into his hotel room firm in my mind.
“Huh?” I blot my lips with a napkin and try to ignore how Travis watches even that movement.
“Are you still hungry? I could order room service,” he offers.
I wave my hands. “I should feel bad for making you split your meal.”
“Don’t,” he insists. “You were the cause for me actually taking my time with dinner instead of scarfing it down while I worked.”
“Workaholic, huh?” I tease.
He chuckles before running a hand through his curly hair. “Focused,” he answers, his voice strengthening.
“Then you’re in town for work?” We haven’t discussed our careers, and frankly, I don’t want to, but the question comes out anyway.
“I am. You?”
I shake my head and rise from my chair, crossing the carpeted floor to the window. “Friend-cation,” I reply over my shoulder.
Travis approaches. “The friend from the bar who has better taste than you.”
I narrow my eyes on him, pulling a sideways smile from his lips.
“Kandace does have better taste than me,” I admit.
“They say acceptance is the first step to recovery.”
I bite my inner lip, refusing to smile.
“Then you two make these trips to Vegas often?”
“Vegas, Miami, Mexico City. We don’t live near one another, so we have to plan our get togethers. It just so happened that her husband had a work conference here this week at the same time one of our favorite cover bands is playing.”
“Let me guess, she’s the one who introduced you to the band.”
“Every great friendship has the more outgoing one with slightly better taste and the introverted one. Guess which category I fall into?”
He cocks his head to the side, the space between his brows wrinkling. “Is that true?”
I jut my head back. “You’ve never noticed?”
His expression gives his answer away.
“It’s everywhere,” I exclaim. “Bert and Ernie, Galinda and Elphaba …”
“Lilo and Stitch,” he adds.
I snap and point at him. “See, you get it.”
“Jekyll and Hyde,” he adds.
“Does that one really count? Technically, he was only one person.”
Travis shrugs a shoulder. “Never read the book even though it was assigned. Wasn’t into school much,” he offers casually. “For the sake of your argument, we’ll say it counts.”
“Oh, bacon and eggs is another one.”
“Bacon is the extrovert of that duo.”
“Definitely bacon,” I mumble with a grin before turning to face the window again.
We both stare out at the lights in silence for a while. Travis’ arm brushes against mine, and though there’s no direct skin to skin contact due to our clothing, heat rushes through me.
The silence isn’t awkward or displeasing in the way I would think it would be with a person who’s a practical stranger. Not even when Travis slips a hand behind my back, holding me by the waist.
“I love this view.”
“One of my favorites in the city,” he tells me. “I request this room every year when I come into town.”
“What do you enjoy about it?” I ask.
I sense the precise moment his gaze leaves me and he peers through the glass.
“I like seeing the city from this high up. Reminds me of all of the possibilities, the ways to enjoy. I don’t get a lot of free time while here for work and my job has me viewing the city from a much lower angle.”
“On the Strip?” I ask.
“You could say that.”
I nod, not wanting to probe any further about his work.
I motion with my chin toward the view. “What possibilities do you see from up here, Mr. Townsend?” I tease.
His hand inches farther along my waist, pulling me into his body. I willingly go, inhaling his citrusy, masculine scent.
“Winning,” he answers, staring down at me. “That’s what Vegas is all about. People come here full of hopes and dreams to hit it big at a casino, or make it onto one of the coveted stages or … what I do. It’s all about winning.”
“Winning is everything?”
The corners of his lips flex. “Here it is. And in life.”
On an inhale, I mull over his words.
“Winning looks different for everyone,” I finally say. “Some people just want safety, security, and a place to call home.”
His fingers tighten. “That’s not winning. Those are the basics.”
“To some, the basics are winning. Especially if you once had those very things ripped away from you—” I clamp my mouth shut.
“Everyone knows what winning looks like,” he says, then motions toward the lights. “There. That’s winning. You’re lucky if you get to own it, even just for a moment.”
There’s a reverence in his voice with an underlying edge in it. I wonder what he’s seeking, or what’s seeking him.
“And I always get lucky in Vegas,” he finishes.
The hard edge in his voice arouses something inside of me. I don’t believe in luck, not for me, anyway. Yet when he says it, I believe it exists for him.
And that makes me want to believe it for myself.
It gives me something to reach for, something almost palpable and solid to hold onto.
As a person who’s felt adrift for longer than I can remember, there’s a security in being with someone who knows who and what it is they want. Even if this coupling, if it’s even that, lasts for a little while.
“Then you must be a gambler,” I say. “Your luck extending to the casinos.”
His eyes drop as he looks down at me. “The gamblers get lucky betting on me,” he states, his voice rigid with conviction.
“No one can make the claim that you lack for confidence.”
He moves in front of me, pinning my back against the window glass. My arms come up around his shoulders.
“Confidence well earned, Alyssia.”
My knees weaken a little from the sound of my name on his lips.
He presses into my body, making heat lick through my veins. The fire burning in his eyes rivals the lights on the Strip.
At the back of my mind, something knocks, reminding me of a promise I’d made to myself before entering this room, but I can’t quite recall what it was.
“Then show me,” I say, my voice coming out as a challenge. “Just for tonight,” I add.
Travis accepts
He crushes his lips against mine while pulling my hands from around his neck. One of his hands tightens on my hip while the other binds my two wrists over my head. Pushing his body into mine, he forces my knees to widen to make room for his hips.
My dress rides up past my hips, exposing the lace panties I have on underneath.
Every touch, every caress, every brush of his breath against my skin reminds me of how long it’s been since I’ve been touched like this.
Even before Hudson and I broke up, we hadn’t been with one another for weeks.
Travis catches my bottom lip with his teeth.
