Fight or Flight(22)
With the ache in my body now satisfied, the heat of pleasure dissipated and I felt cold. I eased off him and he let go of my hips so I could slip off the bed. I grabbed my clothes from the floor around the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
Misery overwhelmed me, and I wondered how I could go from enjoying the most pleasure I was sure any woman had ever felt to feeling wretched with myself. Disappointed in myself.
And wondering how the hell I could get out of there without losing face.
I took my time until I panicked that maybe he thought I was trying to stick around.
However, when I stepped out of the bathroom, Caleb was lying sprawled with the sheets over him, his arms above his head, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes closed.
The asshole had fallen asleep.
“Caleb?”
He didn’t even twitch.
I stepped closer to the bed. “Caleb?” I shook the mattress a little.
Still nothing.
Wondering if he was pretending to sleep as an immature way to get rid of me, I held my finger under his nose. The lack of movement from him and the steady, even breaths he took convinced me he was asleep. Relief moved through me. I slipped on my shoes, studying the potently beautiful and masculine man lying in bed.
It was the kind of sex I would never forget, even if I had been getting sex regularly.
And I decided right there and then to get over myself. So what if I didn’t like Caleb? Being attracted to someone I didn’t like didn’t make me a bad person. It made me human. And you know what? For a couple of hours everything had been simple and good.
Knowing he was asleep, I approached him quietly and acknowledged that if he was clean shaven he’d look almost boyish in his sleep. I wanted to kiss that pouty mouth one last time, but I was afraid it would wake him.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’d never say this if you were awake because … well, we both know you’re an asshole … but I needed this. It’s … it’s been a shitty week. And this was nice. Uncomplicated. Thanks for being just the guy I could have sex with.” I smiled. “And thanks for living up to my grand expectations. Not that you need your ego stroked.”
I turned and moved across the room, grabbing my purse off the floor. Then I stopped and looked back at him, sleeping peacefully. “And P.S. You win when you realize that anyone can hurt you, even those you never expect it from. Once you know that … you’ll never be knocked off your feet long enough to lose.”
As I slipped out of the hotel room, I knew deep down I hadn’t said those words to a sleeping man who couldn’t hear them. I’d said them to myself. Because as much as I didn’t like the bastard … he’d somehow still taken something from me in there, and I couldn’t have that.
Even though he had slipped past my defenses, I needed the reminder that it didn’t mean I could trust him.
Seven
Although I had to get up early to catch my flight, I woke up feeling refreshed, realizing I’d slept better than I had in ages. I didn’t walk away from Caleb filled with regrets and I didn’t overanalyze. I truly appreciated our one-night stand for what it was: a major stress reliever. As soon as I’d gotten back to the room, I’d passed out on my bed, out like a light.
The overthinking came the next morning while I was in the shower. It wasn’t so much overthinking or regret as really the wish that I hadn’t said as much as I had about Nick and Gem. I wasn’t so drunk the night before that I couldn’t remember every second of it. I didn’t mind my inhibitions being lowered enough for me to have sex with Caleb, but I did mind that they’d been lowered enough for me to talk about Gem’s death. Reassuring myself that it wasn’t a huge deal because I’d never see Caleb again, I was suddenly hit with harsh reality. I would see Caleb again. He was on my freaking flight to Boston.
I really, really hoped we would not be sitting next to each other.
“Awkward” didn’t even cover it.
Still, it wasn’t worth getting worked up about, so I attempted to shrug that niggle off my shoulders and sweep away the nervousness in the pit of my stomach. To my relief, I didn’t see Caleb in the hotel as I checked out and headed along the walkway to the airport.
The more I thought about my epic sexcapades with the Norse God (in my head I allowed myself to call him that because, seriously, the man had found my G-spot), the chirpier I became despite my anxiety over seeing him again. I had not once in my life engaged in a one-night stand, but it would seem that I did it perfectly. I chose a seriously sexy (if unlikable) man to sleep with, he gave me the best sex of my life, and the cherry on top of the icing on that cake? He was from an entirely different continent, and after this flight I would never see him again in my life.
“What you grinning about, girl?” the cheery security personnel said, smiling at me as I handed her my passport and ticket.
I hadn’t even realized I was smiling. I lied, “I’m happy to be going home.”
“Well, you have a nice flight,” she said, handing my documents back to me.
“Thank you,” I returned sincerely. Seriously … good manners did matter.
And positivity really did attract positivity.
After I got through security, which was heaving with people—even the fast-track line for first and business class—I strolled into the busy terminal, heading for the nearest coffee cart. Miracle of miracles, there was only one guy in front of me, and soon I was holding a grande macchiato in my hand, relieved to be going home, and feeling so sexually satisfied that I thought maybe the universe was looking out for me after all. Last night with Caleb had been a much-needed diversion. Thanks, Universe. I owe you one.