Chapter Forty
Griffin
I reach out, then open my eyes when my hands touch cool sheets. Slightly disoriented, I stare at the spot where Sierra should be.
I didn’t dream the night. Or going to sleep with her nestled against me, my arms wrapped around her like a shield against the world.
Did she go to the bathroom?I don’t hear anything.
“Sierra?”
No response.
I get up and look around. Her clothes and shoes aren’t strewn on the floor anymore.
Did she go back to her room?For some reason, the thought annoys me, and then the annoyance annoys me more. I don’t generally like getting up with a woman I’ve spent the night with. They tend to cling or start thinking they can make demands on my time or connections—if they know about my parents, especially my dad.
I booked a double-bedroom suite out of habit, and perhaps I shouldn’t have. But I didn’t want Sierra to feel like she had to sleep with me in exchange for the trip. When she kissed me that first night here, I wasn’t sure if she really wanted me or if she was just doing it because she thought it was what I wanted. I wouldn’t have given in last night, either, until I was certain she wanted it for herself.
And it would have been fine if she didn’t want to sleep with me throughout the trip. This is all for her. Despite what she thinks, it wasn’t as perfectly planned as I would’ve liked. Until yesterday afternoon, I wasn’t sure if we were going to the concert. One of the most unreliable people I know promised to have the tickets for me at the hotel, and I only accepted the offer because it was that or go through Dad or Joey, and I’d rather choke on cat vomit than ask anything from either of them.
I use the bathroom, brush my teeth and throw on a robe, then pad out of the room. My clothes turn out not to be strewn all over the floor, either. They’re draped over an armchair facing the TV.
The memory of her kneeling and giving me head sends a hot rush of desire along my spine, making my cock stir.
Down, boy.I’m not on the prowl right now. If Sierra wants another go, I won’t turn her down, but this isn’t just about sex.
The door to her room is ajar. I knock gently a couple of times and stick my head in.
“Sierra?”
The room is quiet, and the bed hasn’t been slept in. But she’s been in here. Her purse is lying on the sheet, and her flats are set neatly by the foot of the bed.
So where did she go?
I step inside. The layout of this room is an exact duplicate of mine. The king-sized bed, a gorgeously lacquered cabinet that is an interesting fusion of Japan and West. A minibar and a couple of plush armchairs.
The faint sound of water running comes from the bathroom. That door has also been left open.
I find my mouth curving into a relieved and anticipatory smile. “Sierra?”
“In here,” she says, sounding happy.
I walk inside and see her in the huge shower stall, her body wet and covered in thick foam.
“Good morning,” Sierra says with a smile through the glass door.
“Good morning. Why are you up so early?” Her glistening nude body looks even better in the morning.
“I always get up at six a.m.,” she informs me primly.
“We’re sixteen times zones away, and you got up late yesterday.”
“It’s a habit. That massage reset my internal clock, and no number of time zones is going to stop me from getting up at six.” She shrugs a shoulder. It makes her breast jiggle.
Blood heats, pooling in my highly eager dick. “So you have no interest in going back to sleep?”
“Nope. Wide awake.” She opens her eyes exaggeratedly.