The Honey - Don't List

But when you’re near someone and feel like your knees turned to jelly, and when you can look them square in the eye and tell them exactly what it is you want them to do, well, that’s just the start of something beautiful.

In the handful of steps from the elevator to James’s room, my confidence evaporates. It’s been years since I’ve undressed in front of a man. What was I thinking? I’m not even sure who this brazen person is. It’s a wonder James didn’t gently guide me to my own room and instruct me to sleep it off.

Debbie would probably tell me that burst of madness in the elevator was born of frustration and anger—some need to be in control of my life because it feels like I never have any control at all. I’ve given ten years to Melissa Tripp. My young years! Ten years of hard work and ideas, hoping one day I might be acknowledged for even a fraction of it.

That is obviously not going to happen.

I rarely let myself think this way. Thoughts like these would make the day-to-day too hard, and any suggestion that I’m more than just an assistant would make Melly’s head explode. It’s not even that I want credit, exactly, but maybe I just need to know that she knows? Does she? Or have we played these parts for so long that she’s managed to fool herself right along with everyone else?

Here’s to another ten years.

Taking a deep breath, I press my face between James’s shoulder blades as he swipes his keycard. Gesturing for me to lead us inside, he follows, dropping his wallet, key, and phone on an entryway table. The door sweeps shut, sealing us into an air-conditioned silence. I clock the way he turns his ringer off. Good idea. But before I can do the same, he reaches up and gently slides the purse strap from my shoulder.

“I’ll get it,” he says.

I’ve never met anyone before who so easily and unobtrusively anticipates my needs. “Thanks.”

His room is a mirror image of mine, but otherwise identical—if not a whole lot tidier: king-size bed and upholstered headboard, requisite dresser and TV, desk, same framed watercolor prints on taupe walls, velvet couch, damask drapes. But my destination, of course, is the minibar.

While he pulls the sheer drapes closed—affording us both privacy and light—I open the small refrigerator and examine its contents. Soda, water, beer, juice, Red Bull. Tiny bottles of alcohol are neatly lined in the door. Normally the only thing I’d be interested in is the single-serving bottle of wine or maybe a bag of M&M’s, but today I reach for the hard stuff, twist off the top, and finish half the tiny bottle of vodka in a single go. It burns in the best way. On top of the fridge in individual weighted compartments is an assortment of chips and candy, along with a small box with a red heart on the front. I feel my face heat as I finger the label and read its contents—condoms, lube, personal wipes. And the label: INTIMACY KIT.

Okay, universe. No need to shout.

With liquid courage still smoldering in my chest and making its way slowly through my veins, I pick up the box and turn to face James.

He’s standing by the window, expression unreadable.

“I’m usually a very independent person,” I tell him.

I toss the box to the bed and his eyes follow the movement, widening when he realizes what it is. “I got that.”

“I don’t usually like help and I rarely ask for it, but …”

He lifts a brow in question.

“I’d like it if you undid my buttons again.”

Only a tiny beat passes—the time it takes for the words to travel across the room, for his brain to interpret them—and then James grins, crossing to me in a few short steps. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

Slipping off my shoes, I kick them to the side. “I’ve never had hotel sex.”

Slower than I’d have thought possible, he pulls the front of my shirt free from my skirt. “Never?”

“I did have sex outside once.” I watch as he undoes one button, and then a second, his fingers lightly grazing the skin of my stomach.

I have to work to keep my voice steady: “I was a senior and dating this guy named Jesse. There’s a trail in the Grand Tetons that takes you to Death Canyon. I’d never been there before, but he really wanted me to see it.” James pulls his attention from the buttons to glance at my face. I give him a little grin like, Yeah, I’m sure that’s really what he wanted me to see.

He laughs, this warm husky sound that makes my blood simmer.

“We stopped to have lunch and spread out a blanket in this gorgeous spot that overlooks the lake and—” I give a meaningful pause. “We never did make it to the canyon. What about you?”