Hotel

She stood near the bar, talking to a guy wearing a suit worth more than I make in a month. Her hair was wound up tight in a bun, except for one blond wisp trailing down the back of her neck.

That rebel curl said everything.

Lawyers everywhere. A big conference. The banquet had let out a while ago, but the suits lingered, talking shop. Normally, I stayed out of view of guests, but the wine cooler compressor was on the fritz, so I waded into the crowd. The suits shrank back as if my toolbox were some kind of catching disease.

Except her. She watched me come.

As I passed by, I looked down her dress. Her breasts were so perfect, I nearly tripped over my work boots and fell face-first into her cleavage. The guy she was talking to shot me a frown. She looked at me, raised her brows, and turned her back.

Damn, that made me hot.

She knew it, too. I was sure of it, though I didn’t catch her looking again. But a half hour later, after I’d packed up my tools and was on my way to the maintenance office, she gave her friend the slip and followed.

And damn, that made me hotter.

* * *

He wasn’t like the men I worked with, all slick and expensive, talking court cases and brokerage accounts. His rumpled khakis needed ironing and his brown hair cried out for barber’s shears. He had a broad chest and a flat stomach, and hefted that massive toolbox as if it weighed nothing. And I know this sounds weird, but when I spotted the smear of grease on his knuckles, I went quivery inside.

I caught up to him near the elevators. “Um…excuse me?”

He paused with his hand on the knob of a door marked Employees Only. “Yes, miss?”

“I—I’m having trouble with my air conditioning.” One side of his collar was crooked. I resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place.

“What’s wrong with it?” He opened the door. I caught a glimpse of a desk piled with tools and work orders.

“I can’t switch it off. The room’s freezing. Maybe…maybe you could come take a look?”

His gaze sharpened. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Room 323,” I said. “I’m going there now.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and disappeared through the door.

* * *

Normally, I slept in an old t-shirt. For the conference, I’d packed a black negligee, one I hadn’t worn in years. Shivering a bit, I belted a white hotel robe over it.

It took him a while to show up. I opened the door; he stepped inside. He’d brought the toolbox, even though he had to know he wouldn’t need it. Even so, he made a show of adjusting the thermostat.

His hands were clean and slightly damp. He’d washed them for me? The thought made my stomach tingle. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, I noticed. Well, hell. Neither was I.

“There.” He flicked the thermostat cover closed. “It’s reset. It’ll be warm in here in no time.”

“Oh, yeah?” I stepped closer. “How warm?”

His gaze turned speculative. “Remains to be seen, I suppose.”

He wore a name patch sewn onto his shirt. “Derek?” I tapped it with one red fingernail. “I used to have a boyfriend named Derek.”

“Yeah?” His eyes lit with amusement. “Was he any good?”

“He was okay.”

“I’m better,” he murmured, and untied my robe.

* * *

I shoved the bathrobe off her shoulders. Her sheer nightie, and the shadow of her nipples beneath it, nearly caused my head to explode. I wanted to tear that gauzy scrap of lace off her body. I ran my hands up the back of her thighs and palmed her bare ass instead. She shuddered and fell into me. I lifted her, then slid her slowly down over my erection. Fireworks burst behind my eyelids. She wriggled against me; I lost my grip.

She dropped to her knees and went to work on my belt buckle. I groaned and started plucking hairpins. When the shining mass of her hair fell, I wrapped it twice around my hand guided her mouth to where I desperately wanted it to be.

God, her hot tongue. I took it as long as I could, until my knees wobbled and I was afraid we’d end up on the floor. I pulled her up and manhandled her to the bed. We fell together into a crisp, white cotton cloud.

“Your turn,” I said.

I opened her legs and lapped her up; she tasted like honey. She wriggled and moaned, nearly bucking off the bed into my mouth. I grinned. Not an hour ago, she’d been an ice princess. Untouchable. Now my hands were all over her and she was burning up.

I crawled up her body. When she wrapped her legs around my hips, I drove into her for all I was worth. I fucked her like I was nineteen again, blown away and wondering how the hell I’d talked the smart girl into doing it with me.

* * *

I lay on my back, gasping. Beside me, Derek did the same. It took a while for us to catch our breath. After a while, I looked over at him. He glanced at me at the same time. We both laughed.

“Holy shit,” I said. “That was amazing.”

“Agreed,” he said. “We should do this more often.”

“No argument here.”

“No argument?” He snorted. “What kind of lawyer are you?”

“The kind that comes on to the hot hotel maintenance guy.” I came up on one elbow and walked my fingers across his chest. “And doesn’t let him out of bed ‘til morning.”

He groaned and flung an arm over his face. “Exactly what time tomorrow is your mother expecting me?”

I leaned in and kissed his damp shoulder, inhaling his sweat and musk. “Eight. Kyle and Kieran have lacrosse practice at nine.” Kiss. “Mom’s keeping the baby all day, but she’s dropping Emily at gymnastics at ten. You’ll need to pick the boys and get Em over to Tara’s birthday party by noon.” Lick. “I’m meeting a client for bunch at eleven, but I’ll be done in time hit the grocery store before I swing by to pick Em up.” Nibble. “Oh, and Tara’s present’s all wrapped. It’s on the dining room table.”

“Hell.” My husband rolled on top of me, hard and ready to go. “Remind me again why we had so damn many kids?”

“Because we like kids.” My hips tilted in invitation; he surged in. “And we like doing this.”

Derek stroked deep and sure, stealing my breath just the way he had when I was eighteen. Could that really have been fifteen years ago? It didn’t seem possible.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “This.”

 

Thanks for reading my Flash Fiction!

Check out longer stories at JoyNash.com