Page 8 of Promise Me Never

The elevator was empty when they got in, and they were both quiet, the heat simmering between them. They didn’t talk as they walked down the hallway to his suite. He opened the door and held it for her again. She walked in, looking around. It was opulent. It must have been one of the nicest suites in the hotel. A far cry from her room; two queen beds and a built-in desk against the wall. She looked up at the gorgeous chandelier that hung over a gleaming mahogany table with elegant silk cushioned chairs around it. A sunken living room with two sofas, an entertainment center, and a bar. A closed door—the bedroom, she presumed.

Bennett shut the door behind him and dimmed the lights. They stood for moment, staring at each other, then moved toward each other at the same time. His lips touched hers, and she kissed him deeply, suddenly lightheaded. He pushed her up against the wall, his hand on her leg and moving higher. She unzipped his pants at the same time his hand moved under her dress. He was so much more confident than anyone she’d ever been with. Not that there had been many. The men always told her they’d call, but few ever did. So many first dates, so few second ones. She shook off those thoughts and reminded herself of where she was and who she was with. She had never wanted someone so badly before. They slid to the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. A moan escaped her lips as they moved together. When they had finished, he kissed her again, then stood, extending a hand to help her up.

He grinned at her. “How about that drink?”

She followed him over to the bar. He pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses, filling them both and handing her one, then opened the door to the bedroom. Putting his glass on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed, he came over to her, kissing her again. Then he slowly lifted her dress over her head. She stood before him naked, for once not feeling self-conscious about her body. Maybe it was the way he looked at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

She unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall on the floor. His chest was well-muscled and his stomach flat. He was gorgeous. She knew he was in shape, she’d seen enough videos of him, but seeing him in the flesh, actually touching him, made her dizzy with desire. She ran a hand over his chest. “So are you.”

He took the glass she was still holding and put it next to his. They fell on the bed and began to kiss again. She couldn’t get enough of him. They made love a second time, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Savannah woke first the next morning. As she lay in Bennett’s bed listening to the gentle rhythm of his breath, she replayed their dinner in her mind. They had talked nonstop with no awkward pauses and discovered they shared similar opinions on wide-ranging topics: social issues, politics, and entertainment. He brought out the best in her. With him she was funny, articulate, and insightful.

It was early, only six a.m., but she was too excited to fall back to sleep. She looked over at him, marveling at the fact that she was lying next to the Bennett Bryson. But even if she’d never heard his name before, if she hadn’t been a huge fan, she would have still wanted him. Their attraction had been magnetic from the moment they’d laid eyes on each other. He’d admitted as much too. She couldn’t deny that she felt special knowing she was the first woman he’d approached since being widowed almost a year ago. That he had, in fact, sworn off relationships, but she had changed everything.

His eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him.

“Aren’t you tired? You should be after the night we had.” He gave her a lazy smile and reached out a hand to caress her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

He’d said it again. He made her feel beautiful.

He leaned in to kiss her, and she wished that she’d brushed her teeth. But he didn’t seem to mind and soon they were entwined, and she was consumed once again with desire for him. She pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his back. He moaned as they made love. When they were finished, he held her gaze until she felt as though he was staring into her very soul, and she finally looked away.

“I guess I should be going. I imagine you’ll be wanting to get on the road soon,” she said. It was killing her, the thought of never seeing him again. But she wasn’t naïve. He was famous and used to women throwing themselves at him all the time. He would think she was crazy if she told him that she already had feelings for him. Now she realized it had been foolish to sleep with him. She was already halfway in love, and he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of her. In the cold morning light she knew she had screwed up.

| Nine |

Before—Poppy

He called me that same night. Three a.m. I’d just gotten home when my phone lit up with an unknown number. New York exchange.

“Hello?”

“I hope I caught you before you went to bed.”

“Who is this?” I knew perfectly well who it was, but one must play the game.

“Are you in the habit of giving your number to many strangers?” There was a smile in his voice.

“Hello, Bennett. Are you in the habit of staying up this late?”

“The curse of the writer. Have to get my word count in.”

“Well, I am about to go to sleep, so—”

“Ah, get to the point, aye?”

“Only because I have to be up at seven to get to my day job.”

“Day job?”

“Art gallery.” I started to tell him that I was an artist, but that was a conversation for another time. And exhaustion was creeping up on me.

“Busy girl.”

“Woman.”