Perfectly Pink - An It's Always Been You Romance (Complete)

Chapter 27

Simon's fingers massaged her scalp through the towel with slow circles, each rotation pitching her deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation.

Which was a good thing, because she was anything but relaxed. Since entering the lobby of the hotel, each step toward their destination–his room–caused her insides to coil tighter and tighter. When he'd offered to dry her hair for her, she couldn't move, unable to turn and take the fluffy white material from him for fear she might run instead. Run out of this room. Run away from him.

Over the years, after every encounter, Mary had been the one calling the shot. In control. Of the situation. Of her feelings. Of Simon. Sex was the goal. Sex was the outcome. Nothing more. And the moment she left, because she always did the leaving after satisfying her desires, life went back to the way it was before. She returned to her world, continued to try to find a place for herself in the political landscape that held advantage for both her and her father. Restore the Montgomery name to its former glory.

Tonight, however, felt different.

She wasn't in control.

She was everything but in control.

Shivers ran up and down her back.

"We should get you out of this wet dress." Simon's words, low and soft, tickled the back of her neck.

Arms crossed to hide her shaking hands, Mary stared at her reflection in the hotel room window, the suite surrounding her, anything but the man who radiated heat. The fact it was a suite and not a standard room filtered through the part of her brain that noticed these things and tried to make sense of it. Maybe the conference offered discounts to attendees. Or perhaps he'd been upgraded due to lack of room. He could have used points, but that would mean Simon travelled enough to earn points, and that didn't fit into the neat little box she put him in.

So many things this evening, no these past few weeks strained against the confines of the plain cardboard box she stuffed Simon in in her mind. The small-town guy she assumed never left Bridgetown who travelled to New York, Washington, and who knew what other metropolises regularly. The beer slinging bar manager, who appreciated fine wine, knew her favourite boutique brand. The burger tossing café owner who frequented niche dinning experiences and dreamed of opening a Michelin Star worth restaurant.

And what was that bit about being the silent investor in Henry's expansion endeavour? Simon had the money to sink into what many considered one of the riskiest business propositions these days—opening a new restaurant. Henry had asked Sophie to invest, but she couldn't come up with the fifty thousand buy in. But Simon could? Was that whim or smart entrepreneurship?

The man in question held up a robe in the two-dimensional vision the window offered. "I brought you this." Damp material clung to his body, his shirt and pants soaked in their mad dash from the restaurant. The hair he'd so carefully combed now in disarray, tousled and dripping in a way that made the lower half of her torso clench in desire.

It wasn't a question anymore. She couldn't resist giving in to her want. Her need for him. A small voice in her head tried to bring reason, demanding she listen. If she slept with him tonight, things would be different. This wasn't the man she was meant to be with. He offered none of the qualities Hunter could provide. There'd be no road to the white house, no political influence. She would not make her father proud.

Right now, she didn't care.

Or she cared too much.

Mary swept up her bedraggled hair in one hand and placed the other against her pounding heart. "Unzip me?"

Cold fingers brushed against her shoulder, the nape of her neck, sending goosebumps flying across her skin. She watched Simon's doppelganger in the glass, his expression a reflection of her own. Desire mixed with... apprehension. He knew it, too. Knew this was not another meaningless sexcapade.