Page 19 of Wild Thing
We left the bar together and walked through the grand foyer. Even in silence, it felt comfortable. There was a small crowd of people waiting as we arrived at the elevators.
“What floor are you?” Brax asked.
“Fourteen. You?”
“Twenty-two.”
Okay, phew. There was several floors separating us. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
The doors pinged open, and after the flurry of people made their way out, we entered. It was a packed elevator, forcing our bodies to squish up on each other.
I pressed my back into Brax’s front. I’d be damned if I was going to push up against a stranger. It was then I noticed his distinctly spicy scent; sandalwood and leather. Like the forest after a rainstorm in the summertime.
Brax slid one arm around my waist to steady me, hooking his thumb into the loophole of my jeans. His arm around my waist felt so… intimate. And so fucking good.
We rode the elevator in silence, and I swore everyone could hear my thunderous heartbeat. A few stops on the lower levels, and pretty soon, it was just Brax and I.
His body continued to press against mine, even with no one else left. We glared at each other in the reflection of the elevator doors as it traveled towards my floor. I could feel Brax's breath on my neck as his muscular, tattooed arm remained tightly wrapped around my waist.
Neither of us moved.
It was at that moment that I knew we were definitely going to have sex. It wasn't a matter of if, but when.
Arriving at the fourteenth floor, Brax slid his arm away but ever so slightly grazed my ass. A purposeful accident, I was sure.
“See you tomorrow, Wild Thing.”
I turned my head, giving him a slight smile as I exited the elevator towards my suite. I could feel his eyes burning into my ass as I heard the elevator doors close.
I didn’t look back as I strode towards my doorbecause I was fucking cool and not desperate for my ex's attention.
I needed a cold shower. I felt hot and lightheaded.
Must have been the wine.
It surely had nothing to do with my hot as hell ex-boyfriend showing up unexpectedly.
Yep, definitely just the wine.
Five
DYLAN
Taylor arrived five minutes ago, and already she had attacked the mini bar, popping the mini bottle of champagne and pouring us both a glass.
“Cheers Dyl!” she hollered, as she enthusiastically clinked her glass with mine. “So happy to see you girl!”
“Same, Tay.”
Taylor is probably the only girlfriend that knew the real me; the warmth beneath the icy cold exterior. We'd met in London. She was on a working visa, just as I was, and we both arrived heartbroken and full of rage.
And misery loves company.
We interned at the same architecture firm, bonding over our shared dislike of our manager. Nothing cements friendships more than a common enemy.
In the name of "healing", we tore through Europe the best way we knew how—by partying our asses off. Sightseeing in Paris, eating our body weight in pasta in Rome, micro-dosing mushrooms in Amsterdam... we did it all. It had been a special, crazy time helping each other heal while learning who we were without the fuckboys who had broken our hearts into pieces.
Taylor adjusted her shoulder length white blonde hair, pulling it back into a slick pony. “This weather is seriously fucking with my hair.”
