The Rivals
“Just the one.”
“So why do you get it?”
“Because I’m the more diligent employee and followed up first thing this morning. Where were you? I saw you disappear bright and early out the front door.”
“I had a meeting.”
I perked a brow. “Another meeting? Let me guess. This one is secret, too?”
Weston’s lips pressed into a straight line.
I offered a knowing smile before walking down to the other end of the counter. “That’s what I thought.”
He followed yet again. “If two guests checked in and both requested an upgrade, how would you decide whom to give it to?”
“I’d give it to the one who requested it first.”
“That’s right. So that’s what we should do here.”
I’d had to wait for my checked luggage after our flight while I’d watched Weston breeze right out the door at JFK. I didn’t see him again after that until the next morning, so it was safe to assume he’d checked in first. He was technically right on what should happen here. But I’d had a lot of trouble falling and staying asleep the last week, and I thought having separate rooms to work and sleep in might help my mind relax better. Every time I looked over at my growing pile of work or my laptop, it made me think of ten other things I needed to jump out of bed and write down on my to-do list.
I sighed. “Could we at least alternate? A week at a time, perhaps?”
“Or…we could share it. We both know how much you enjoy being alone with me in the bedroom.”
I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Your loss.”
I shook my head. “I’m sure I’ll be kicking myself for turning down such a generous offer.”
Weston moved to stand directly behind me as I looked down to type into the reception computer. “You look beautiful with your hair up, by the way. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He was so close that I felt the heat from his body on my back. “I didn’t do it for you to appreciate. Just living up to my part of the agreement we made—regardless of how stupid I think it is.”
Weston inched closer. His breath tickled my neck when he spoke again. “So you didn’t think of me at all when you were looking in the mirror getting ready this morning? I think you did.”
I had thought about him while I was putting my hair up. He’d told me he liked to look at my neck, and the thought that he might get off on it today had made me anticipate seeing him all morning. But I would never admit any of that.
“Contrary to your belief, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Especially mine.”
“Do you want to know why I love your neck so much?”
Yes. “I don’t really care.”
“I love your skin. When you wear your hair up, I can stare at your neck without you knowing I’m looking. Like this morning, while you were getting your coffee at six twenty.”
Maybe it should’ve felt a little creepy hearing he’d watched me grab my morning coffee, but for some reason, it didn’t. Oddly, I found it kind of erotic that he stole glances when he could. Though I tamped down that feeling. “I think you need a hobby, Weston.”
“Oh, I have one I quite enjoy.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Next time, I think I’m going to fuck you while you look in the mirror you use to put your hair up. So whenever you stare at your reflection, you won’t be able to see anything but me watching you come while I’m buried deep inside you.”
I was certain that if I backed up a few inches, I’d bump right into a steely erection. And though I was currently wearing my hair up as part of a bargain to keep what had happened between us private, I had the strongest urge to take a step back and find out, even while standing in public for anyone to see.
Luckily, a couple walked through the revolving door and headed right for the front desk, shaking me out of my moment of almost-insanity. Weston took a few steps back as they approached and then disappeared altogether while I checked them in. I took a deep breath and tried to focus, though the short training Louis had given me this morning on the hotel’s guest registration system seemed to have gotten lost in my lusty haze of a brain, and I had to get Renée from the back to help me finish.
Not too long after that, I got back in the swing of things. I spent a few more hours working the front desk, and then went to check in with my family’s team working on the valuation in the conference room upstairs. To my happy surprise, my father was no longer there. I sat with Charles, the senior manager of the audit team, who was in charge of the project. Three men and one woman sat around the table, buried in paper as they combed through the hotel’s assets. Charles told me he would be bringing in a few art evaluators to assess the market value of some of the paintings scattered throughout the hotel, as well as an antiques expert. My hour-long conversation added a dozen more things to my to-do list, and when I looked down at the time on my phone, I couldn’t believe it was almost six o’clock.