Totally sapped, she collapsed on Keith’s chest as he cried out with his own release. His arms came around her, binding her tightly to him as he spent himself.
Chests heaving together, they lay torso to torso. She couldn’t have moved if the hotel room caught fire.
“That,” Keith huffed, “was un-freaking-believable.”
It had been. Keith never talked like that, but she agreed—no other term could describe it.
“And then some.”
But only because Keith had encouraged her to spread her wings. Only because he’d told her how hot it was. Only because this was a fling and nothing more.
The thought made her a little sad all at once. Why couldn’t sex between them be adventurous and fulfilling and wonderful while they were a couple?
Well, because it didn’t work that way, obviously. Either it could be tender and meaningful or it could be a smoking-hot fling. And honestly, it hadn’t been all that tender the first time around, when she’d thought they were in love.
“As much as I enjoyed the floor, I’m a little carpet burned,” Keith murmured and stroked her hair. “Shall we move to the bed?”
Cheek to his pectoral muscle, she listened to his heart rate slow. Did that mean he was good and rested already? “I’ve got another round in me.”
He groaned and it was not one of anticipation. “Dawn is going to come much sooner than I’d like and I’m afraid storm cleanup is going to be brutal. What if we just go to sleep?”
Sleep? Here? That was the opposite of a good idea. As if doused by a bucket of cold water, sense returned to her brain. Rolling off Keith carefully, she scouted around for her dress, found it and yanked it over her head without taking the extra time to don her bra and panties.
“I, ah...think I’ll head back to my room.”
Still naked and apparently not interested in fixing that, Keith sat up, muscles bunching and flexing. Dang it if he wasn’t the sexiest male on the planet, with or without clothes. Why was she leaving again?
“Your room doesn’t have an air conditioner,” he reminded her. “Stay. I’d like to see your face in the morning.”
Oh yeah. That was why. “No, it’s better we keep this expectation free. Sleepovers are like the gateway. It starts feeling like we’re a couple again and neither of us has the luxury of that.”
Wincing at her catty tone, she gathered all her things and headed for the door before he could say anything. “Thanks, Mitchell. That was amazing. See you tomorrow.”
The storm nearly blew her sideways, dousing her instantly. As she dashed through the rain to the other tower—because in her panic she’d fled without her umbrella—she had to admit that part of her wished they did have the luxury of more and it was something they both wanted.
They’d tried a just-starting-to-date relationship. They’d tried being an engaged couple. They’d tried hot, no holds barred and no strings.
And against all good reason, she wanted to know what it would be like with Keith if they were in love. If birth control wasn’t so critical... But it was critical, because she couldn’t trust him with anything other than her body. It didn’t matter if he cared about her or had other interests besides sex, because she couldn’t let him hurt her again.
She sighed as she mounted the stairs to her room, dripping water and despondency all over the place. Maybe no strings got easier. She’d have to try harder to not care that Keith’s expression had resembled granite when he’d watched her leave.
Cara Chandler-Harris Designs would never walk out on her, never disappoint her. What did she need with a man long-term anyway?
* * *
Keith let Cara go and spent the night watching the weather radar on an endless loop. It mirrored the chaos in his head perfectly.
Too restless to sleep, he prowled around the suite looking for something to punch, because he feared that was the only way he’d expel the black mood he’d fallen into when Cara had waltzed out the door.
It was for the best. She was absolutely right. They weren’t in a relationship. Sleepovers weren’t a good idea. When the storm passed, Keith would be overloaded with revised expo plans and Cara would be in the way. She knew that, had made herself scarce, and he should completely respect and appreciate it.
But all he could think about was how he’d yearned to slide into sleep with her sated body nestled against his, breathing in sync.
Disgusted and furious for no reason, he took a long shower and forced himself to crawl into bed, where he listened to the wind howl and caught snatches of shut-eye, only to bolt awake because he’d dreamed Cara had come back, blubbering apologies and begging him to let her stay. But it was only the crack of branches outside or the tap of rain against the window that, in his delirium, he’d mistaken for her.