Page 74 of Lost In Us (Lost 1)

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His words are like a balm to me. They fill my mind, my body… every cell of it. They find their way to my core, brimming over the creases carved by tears, healing them with the most powerful salve there is: hope.

"James, y-y-you've," I stutter. "I don't know what to say. My head is spinning." I untangle my hands from his and massage my temples, because my neurons have chosen the worst moment to start doing somersaults.

James smirks. "That, I think, is not my doing, though I'd love to take credit for it. I think it's the five glasses of champagne you've had."

"Oh. There were five? I… right, I need time to think this through," I say.

"Patience isn't my strongest suit either. But I want you to take your time and think this over. I don't want you to rush into a decision. Do you want to return to your apartment?"

"Are you kidding? I'm in my own version of Tolkien's Rivendell and you think I will leave it to return to my apartment? It's good enough even without elves."

The truth is, I have two other reasons why I don't want to leave. First, my head throbs so badly that I don't think I can survive a car ride without throwing up at least once. And second, my apartment is the last place I want to be. I can pretty much guarantee that Jess won't come home until morning hours, and with her gone, it won't be long before the depression triggered by Kate's birthday will overpower me. I stuffed that place with too many memories of her. How ironic that the alcohol in my blood can make the whole room spin in front of my eyes but can't make me forget about Kate's birthday.

"Do you want to go to your room now?" His voice snaps me back to reality. "It's only ten o' clock, but…" He points with both hands at me, amused, as if saying, you look like you can't stay up for much longer.

"Going to my room sounds excellent."

The second I get up from my chair, I realize that wherever the room is, it can't be close enough. I gulp and clutch my tiny envelope bag tightly to my chest. The spinning only gets worse when I start walking. James walks slightly behind me, holding his hand at the small of my back. We take a turn into a small corridor past the reception desk, and, to my dismay, arrive in front of a spiral staircase.

"No elevator?" I ask, eyeing the set of interminable stairs.

"Would you have asked about an elevator if you were at Rivendell?" James whispers in my ear.

"No," I giggle. "I would've asked the elves to use some of their magic to levitate me to my

room or something."

"Ah, I can do that without any magic," he says and swipes me right off my feet.

"James, no," I half-cry, half-laugh, clinging to him, praying not to throw up. James's chest reverberates with laughter. He's got one arm around my back and the other one under my knees. I keep my eyes closed the entire time, taking in deep breaths. The scent of his ocean and musk cologne travels down my throat, exciting and calming me at the same time.

"Right, I have to put you down, or I won't be able to unlock the door," he says, and I almost tell him I'll gladly sleep in front of the door if it means I can remain in his arms.

He opens the black wood door with a creak and turns on the light.

"Wow," I exclaim. Despite the fact that my brain is spinning inside my head, it can still acknowledge the gorgeousness of this room. It's not exceptionally large, but the black furniture, the four-poster bed with creamy, transparent curtains around it, and the oval mirror next to it give the place a luxurious, royal air. "Where is your room?" I ask suspiciously.

"Not far away from here." His eyes twinkle. "The terrace is great." He walks to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors opposite the entrance, and swings them open. I gasp as a breeze of fresh air fills my lungs, and for a fraction of a second my surroundings come into focus and my head clears up a bit. I immediately realize that spending some time outside is the best shot I have at waking up my brain from the slumber it's fallen into.

I make my way toward James but stop abruptly less than a foot away from him. At the side of the glass doors lies a black backpack I know only too well. It belongs to Jess.

I raise my eyebrows at James. "How did this backpack get here?"

One corner of his mouth twitches playfully. "Ah, Jess packed some of your clothes in it. She thought you might need some for the weekend."

"You were awfully convinced I'd agree to stay here, weren't you?" I wrack my brain, trying to figure out how she managed to sneak it inside the taxi without me catching on, but I can't for the life of me.

James grabs his hands behind his back, tilting his head to one side. "Actually, I wasn't, but Jess insisted she should send some clothing, just in case you want to change. Though I have to say you look lovely in this dress. And of course, you know I'm a great fan of you wearing no clothes at all."

"I only agreed to stay here tonight," I say, trying to ignore the hot shiver that coursed through me at his words. I dart past him, stepping outside on the terrace, which is twice as large as the bedroom. The sound of water flowing is much more intense here than it was when I rolled down the window in the cab. There are two lounge chairs on the terrace, but I don't sit on either. I just walk to the edge of the terrace, leaning against the railing, holding my bag under my arm. And though the distance to the ground isn't far—we're only on the first floor—I discover that looking down is something I'd better refrain from doing until the alcohol is gone from my blood. One glance in front of me and I learn why the sound of flowing water is so pronounced.

"I didn't know there was a waterfall. I didn't see it last time I was here."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say. It's not particularly high, maybe no more than seven feet, but it's splendid. On the other side of the waterfall and river is a thick forest, bathed in moonshine. "This whole place is."

An earsplitting sound coming from my bag startles both of us. I open it slightly and take out my phone. "The battery is low." I smirk, blinking up. "I bet Jess didn't pack my charger."


Tags: Layla Hagen Lost Erotic