You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(53)

Yes. Sharing a room. Another squee moment, am I right?

He asked me if I wanted my own room during our trip the morning after we had sex, when he was driving me back to my apartment, and I started to laugh.

Seriously? After that night we shared? Um, no.

There’s no use in pretending that we’re maybe giving this thing another try. It feels like we’re back together. For reals.

I gaze out the window as we speed through the city. I should be tired. I barely slept on the plane, despite how comfortable first class was. But I was too excited to see London, to see Jordan. Too wide awake considering we left in the middle of the afternoon. The ten-plus hour trip was brutally long considering how eager I was to get there.

It’s almost noon and the city is bustling with activity. Horns are honking, the double decker red buses are literally everywhere, and my head won’t stop spinning.

My phone buzzes with a text notification and I smile. I know who it is.

Jordan.

Tell me you’re in the taxi.

Still smiling like an idiot, I send him a reply. I’m in the taxi. On my way to you.

I add a heart emoji to the end of my sentence.

He quickly sends me back a smiley face emoji in response, though I see the gray bubble indicating he’s typing.

We leave for practice at two. Let’s do lunch. Unless you’re too tired?

Not tired, I say in reply.

Good, he says. We’re in room 626. Meet me there?

Perfect.

He takes a minute to respond, and waiting for him makes me antsy. Can’t wait to see you.

My heart swells and I’m sure I have a giant smile on my face as I stare at my phone screen.

I can’t wait to see you too, I respond.

It feels like the drive takes forever, but we finally make it to the hotel, and it’s beautiful. The building appears incredibly old, and it looms above me when I get out of the taxi. A multitude of flags hang from the front of the building, snapping and waving in the wind. The air is crisp, the blue sky dotted with big, fluffy white clouds.

“Here you go, miss,” the taxi driver says, setting my suitcase beside me on the sidewalk, then bows a little, like I’m royalty.

Ha.

“Thank you.” I already paid him on the credit card machine in the taxi, and included a tip. I don’t have any British money on me, so I’ll probably need to find an ATM at some point. All the travel guides I read said I shouldn’t use those currency exchange windows—the rate is too high and I’ll end up getting ripped off.

Considering I need every dollar I make, I’m not a huge fan of getting ripped off.

I grab my suitcase and wheel it into the hotel lobby, smiling when the doorman nods his greeting as I walk past. I spot the bank of elevators to the right and soon I’m in one, gliding my way up to the sixth floor.

I’m tapping my foot, nerves making me jittery. Jordan and I haven’t seen each other since that night we spent together. And what a night it was. I fell asleep pressed against him. Woke up to him touching me, his big warm hands everywhere at once. We had sex again, slow and half asleep, no kissing, no real foreplay involved. Just him behind me, sliding in easily since I was so wet. He filled me completely, his hand on my hip, his face pressed against my hair. His thrusts were slow. Lazy. His other hand slid up my chest, cupping my breasts, his fingers playing with my nipples, both of us eventually coming in this languid, dream-like way.

If he woke me up like that for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t mind.

The elevator dings and comes to a stop, the doors sliding open. Heading left, I practically skip down the plush carpeted hall, halting when I spot room 626.

Biting my lower lip, I knock on the door, waiting for Jordan to open it.

Within moments he’s there, holding the door open, his gaze hungry as he takes me in. “Finally,” he says in greeting, taking my hand and practically dragging me inside the room. I clutch the handle of my suitcase in my other hand, bringing it with me.

The door slams shut behind me and he helps me with my suitcase, setting it against the wall before he turns to me. “Hi,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on my lips, making them tingle.

For whatever weird reason, I suddenly feel shy standing in front of him. All this build up over getting here, and now I’m tempted to run and hide. “Hi.”

He touches my hair, tucks it behind my ear. “You look pretty.”

My heart flutters at his compliment, but he must be lying. My hair is a bit of a tangled mess, and I’m in yesterday’s clothes. I brushed my teeth on the plane thanks to the mini sized toothbrush and toothpaste they gave me, and I splashed water on my face, so I know I’m not a complete hideous troll.

But I’ve had better days.

“Thank you.” I really take him in. He’s wearing Adidas track pants, black with the signature three white stripes on the sides—surprising considering I always thought he was the Nike type. A red 49ers shirt stretches across his broad chest and he’s wearing white socks. No shoes. It looks like he’s recently got a haircut, though he kept it long on top, which I love.

More silky-soft hair to run my fingers through.

His face is covered in scruff, as if he hasn’t shaved in a day or two and his eyes are as blue as ever. Those blue eyes are watching me watch him at this very moment, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

“You look good too,” I finally say when I realize both of us have been quiet.