"You're right on time." Patrick, trademark smirk in place, opened the door to let Robin into his hotel room.
Robin dropped her purse on the chair nearest the door and looked around. "I'm impressed." Patrick had filled the hotel room with candles, soft jazz and a lovely arrangement of flowers that looked, Robin walked closer, exactly like the ones he had brought her the night she was supposed to have cooked for him. "Interesting choice." She turned and looked at him.
He walked over to stand in her space and looked down at her. "I thought the flowers deserved a second chance." He licked his bottom lip and she could see the lust mingled with amusement in his dark eyes.
"Well." Robin smoothed her palms over the thighs of her black slacks and looked at the bed and then back at Patrick. She hadn't considered exactly how they would get things rolling. For that she was just going to have to rely on Patrick's experience.
"You look beautiful." Patrick reached out and caressed his fingertips down the velvet of her shirt from below her breast to her waist. The touch made Robin catch her breath.
"Thank you. You look pretty hot yourself." She tilted her head and smiled at him. He was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a black turtleneck and black pants. Now that she had given herself permission to do so, she allowed her eyes to take in every scrumptious inch of him. He was, she admitted, a completely delectable man. Physically, she amended as she looked into his self-satisfied expression.
"Glass of wine?" Patrick asked huskily.
"Yes." She watched him walk over to the bar and again enjoyed the view as he poured two glasses of red wine from the bottle he had already opened to breathe. Nice ass. She chuckled to herself at her prurient thoughts and sat down on the couch.
"Something funny, Sunshine?" He said as he handed her a glass and sat down facing her on the couch.
"Should you really be drinking with only forty-percent of a liver?" She swirled and sniffed the wine. Impressed, but not surprised by his good taste. She wouldn't have expected less from someone well-practiced in the art of seduction.
"I can handle myself. How about a toast? To mutual pleasure."
"To mutual pleasure." They clinked glasses.
>>>>>>
"To think you denied yourself all that pleasure this long." Patrick smiled a smug smile and feathered his fingers up and down Robin's naked back. She was lying face down on the pillows next to him trying to catch her breath.
"You would say that," Robin said dryly, not bothering to disabuse him of his notion that she had wanted him from the get go. The truth was that his good looks and charm had been considerably dimmed for her by the horndog exterior. It was seeing the man underneath that had stirred her attraction. But right now she was glad for the exterior because those qualities were going to be her shield.
"Come on you know…"
"Patrick, you already got me in your bed and I'll be here for the foreseeable future. Don't ruin it by saying something stupid." Robin rolled onto her side and looked at him.
Wisely taking her counsel, Patrick rolled over to set his alarm clock. "What time do you need to get up?" he asked.
"Right now." Robin rolled out of the bed and bent over to pick up the clothing they had strewn about in their haste to get from the couch to the bed. She idly noticed that she hadn't even gotten to drink half her glass of the great Italian wine. She made a mental note to ask Brenda if she knew the wine estate.
"You're leaving?" Alarm clock forgotten, Patrick sat up in bed, not bothering to cover his nudity as he gaped at her.
"We're done, right?" Robin winced as she sat down on the bed and began putting on her black boots. She hadn't meant to be so crude. Well, he was hardly likely to have his feelings hurt, she surmised. He had wanted casual sex and now he'd had it.
"Well, that depends." Patrick crawled over and pressed his lips to her neck.
Robin sighed and leaned into his seduction, but when his hands started to creep over her shoulders down to her breasts she stood up. "It was great. See you at work tomorrow." She bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out the door leaving him scowling behind her.
She held her composure until she got into the elevator and then she collapsed back against the wall and blew out the breath she had been holding. She pressed a shaky hand to her stomach. "It's just chemicals," she reminded herself. Citing off in her head the neurotransmitters that were released by sex that caused a woman to form a false bond with any man she had sex with. She then calculated the time it would take for them to work their way out of her system. If she was lucky it would be before she saw Patrick at work the next day.
But while she was feeling the aftereffects she could only be relieved that she had made rules for herself. She knew she would need them in order to get through this fling with Patrick unscathed. They were as follows:
1. She would never spend the entire night
2. They would only get together for sex in his hotel room
3. Avoid any date-like scenarios best as possible
4. They could not be together more than three nights a week (negotiable)
5. Nothing would go on at work (not negotiable)
And last, but most important – SHE WOULD NOT FALL IN LOVE.
She didn't really think she could fall in love with him given his phobia of emotional intimacy, but even knowing that she was under the influence of post-coital bliss it had been difficult to not curl up in bed with him and spend the night. It was only the image of an awkward morning after that helped her stick to her rules.
God, she ran her hand over her brow as she got into her car. She could barely function just imagining them waking up together, trying not to look each other in the eyes and then running into each other at work a short time later. This way they would both be able to get a good night's rest before and have hours of buffer time in between their play and work.
Then when this was over, whether it was days or weeks, she would have had some fun and be open for whatever and whoever came next.