I knock twice before he opens the door. He's wearing a shirt — thank God and smiles at me as he steps aside, silently inviting me in.
"You better not get me in trouble on my first day working here." When I step into his hot-as-hell hotel room, the scent of him overpowers me. It's him mixed with the faint smell of cigarette smoke and some agonizingly good cologne. It's a deadly cocktail of tantalizing smells that makes me want to throw all caution to the wind and pounce on him.
"I remember you telling me about you doing bad things and doing them well, little Doe." He grins, a delicious twinkle in his eyes.
As I look around the room, I see he removed the bottle of liquor from his nightstand. Thinking about that bottle and its contents makes me almost taste the whisky. I clear my throat and try to focus on something else, something other than booze, and the way it made me feel. I swap that fantasy for another, watching his bed and imagine me on it, his body on top of me. It makes me tingle inside, feel things, and I regret going there.
"Coffee?" He asks, walking over to the white kettle on the dresser opposite the bed. He takes it and walks over to the bathroom. I hear the water stream as I ogle his Levis-clad ass. It looks far too good, too perky and round for a man's ass, but I stare anyway.
Masen puts the kettle back onto its holder, presses a button, and grabs the two mugs that come with the room. They're generic, thin, white porcelain.
"I don't like instant coffee." I bite, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I stand there in the middle of the room, feeling awkward, not knowing where to sit.
"Too bad. It's all I have." The kettle hums and the sound fills the room, accompanied by sirens that echo through the city in the background. I watch him while he dumps two packets of instant coffee in the mugs — truly watch him. I note the odd color of his hair, a shade in between auburn and copper. It looks dirty blonde with a hint of strawberry like this, but when the sunlight coming from the windows catches the long tresses on top, it shines like a copper coin, mixed with gold strands. It's odd, beautiful, and unique. His profile is exquisite, a strong jawline that's covered in stubble makes him look rugged and the perfect specimen of a man while his pouty, full lips do the opposite. They look soft, inviting, and the freckles dusted on his cheekbones and nose are adorable in a sexy kind of way. The sleeves of his white T-shirt strain over well-developed biceps covered in ink. I can even see traces of the giant tattoo covering his back through the cotton material. The white is a stark contrast to the dark lines of his ink, making him look even more tan.
"You're gonna just stand there, or what?" He barks at me, filling the white mugs to the brim before he takes a spoon and stirs.
I take the hint, sit down on the foot of the bed behind him, see myself in the mirror as I sit, and watch him still. The toe of my shoe catches the strap of the duffle bag under his bed. I lean down to untangle myself and his head snaps up, looking at me through the mirror.
"Leave it." He turns around and crouches down between my parted legs, stuffing the bag deeper under the bed.
I arch my brows. "Wow, what's your fucking problem?"
"You touching my stuff."
"Afraid I'm gonna find your stash of liquor, Masen?" I challenge him. He licks his lips and hands me a mug. The boiling water burns through thin porcelain and I pull my sleeves down to shield myself from any burn marks.
"You want to fucking talk or judge?" He pulls a chair from the table by the window and sits down on it the other way around, his chest against the back of the chair.
I say nothing in return, so Masen smirks at me and it makes me want to roll my eyes.