JENNIE
Sometime later, I'm safely back in the confines of my own room.
I've had a long steaming shower, exfoliated the crap out of my mud-soaked body, and thrown my sneakers in the trash. And even though I'm in my pajamas, sleep is just not happening.
Truffling through the mini-bar and counting the one hundred and eight ceiling tiles doesn't help either because I can't stop thinking about Lisa. Seems all the looks, banter, and deliberate groping on my part have now turned a seemingly innocent crush into a full-blown infatuation.
I know I'm here for work.
I know.
But it's impossible. There's something addictive about our interactions. Being with Lisa feels like an extravagant luxury, even when she's coated head to toe in mud. It's not one I'm sure I deserve, but one that I would love to last a bit longer. Now, I'm wondering if she's thinking of me.
Dear God. I slap my hand over my eyes. I need to think of an excuse to see her. What can I borrow from her massive suite? Blender? Too weird. Plush robe? Too creepy.
Think Jennie, think!
Right, that's it. Either way, I decide I'm not going to be contained by these four walls and slide out onto the carpet, whipping off my pajamas. Hopping into my shorts, I crash into the dresser and then bounce back onto my mattress, where I slip on my shirt. I toe on some flats and rush to the door, ripping it open, only to find Lisa standing there in a white mini-dress with her hand poised like she was about to knock. With a neckline dipping down to accentuate her smooth, soft neck and collarbone, the white fabric clings to her breasts.
Lisa looks like heaven and hell, gift-wrapped.
I hold onto the door for support.
"Oh, hey... " She drops her arm and gives me her trademark slow smile. "Hi... "
My stomach twists. Her voice does things to me. Her presence setting me alight.
Obviously, I say something stupid, "You look clean."
"Shower helps."
I nod slowly. When she starts blinking those dangerous doe eyes at me, I know I'm in trouble.
"I wanted to know if... "
"If?" I manage.
Her eyes fix on mine with unmistakable intent, and I'm trapped in her gaze. My breaths coming out in shorter and shorter gusts. All I can hear in my ears is static.
Wait.
Is she... Are we...
Oh, fuck it.
I lunge forward, grabbing her by her dress. My mouth crushing down on hers, claiming, demanding. I kiss her passionately, recklessly, as though it's the only kiss that matters. We wrestle each other and stumble inside, door slamming, and bounce off a small table.
Tongues twining, lips bruising. Her back hits the wall, my hips pinning her there.
There's no room to breathe, but oxygen is suddenly the furthest thing from my mind. My breath is hers, and her mouth.
Oh my God, her mouth.
It's like crushed velvet. The feel of her lips, the pressure, and that perfect angle. Stars explode behind my eyelids, and my longing transforms into a staggering hunger.
She's drowning my moan with these kisses that just melt you to the bone, and my hands are all over her body, desperately craving friction. I'm scraping my teeth down her jaw, sucking at her neck, and she starts yanking at my shirt, buttons scattering on the carpet.
