“Wow. Fancy,” he observed.

April closed the door and turned the deadbolt. “You mean the room?” She gestured to the mini fridge, encouraging him to help himself to a beer. When he cracked a can open and took a gulp, she continued. “You’ve never seen the rooms here?”

He gave her a droll look. “What, you think I hook up with all my customers?”

Her face heated to an unequivocal shade of crimson. He’d said what they’d been dancing around but had never given words to. She shook her head meekly in response and then grabbed a bottle of water, chugging half of it down. Secretly, she was over the moon that he didn’t make a habit of doing this—that she was different, special in some way. But a part of her still felt like she was flailing in a vast ocean without a life jacket.

Nick sat in the chair by the desk, allowing her to sit on the bed alone. Presumably a conscious decision on his part, as if putting a bit of physical distance between them meant he wanted her to set the pace. She appreciated the gallant gesture, even though she wanted to crawl into his lap and grind down. He took another swig of beer, and she was momentarily hypnotized by how the muscles in his throat worked.

“For the record, I also don’t, um…hook up with bartenders when I’m on the road,” she offered pitifully.

Amusement rippled over his features. “That’s good to hear.”

“I do have a confession to make, though.”

He blanched at the abrupt change in topic. “Okay?”

“I didn’t have a client dinner tonight. I went to the Italian place around the corner by myself. I wanted to come to the bar, but I was…” She trailed off and mentally searched for the words before throwing her hands up in defeat. “Scared, I guess. Or embarrassed. Or both? Because you were already consuming my thoughts, and I’m fully aware it’s insane that someone I’ve shared only a few conversations with could affect me so much. I figured it would be better if I just…stayed away.”

She blew out a breath and avoided his gaze. God, what was even happening here? This was not how she’d expected their nightcap to start. She’d envisioned something similar to her dream—immediate groping and mouths battling. Not messy confessions and this awkward seating arrangement. The tension between them had built for days and been poised to explode. Yet here they were. Almost afraid to get physically close to one another.

“I spent the whole night worried I’d said something wrong yesterday,” Nick eventually disclosed. His voice was low and soft. A balm to the visceral burns of her insecurity. “That maybe I’d gotten too real or whatever, telling you about my mom. I couldn’t figure out why you hadn’t shown up. And then I thought I’d imagined the whole thing.”

Her eyes shot up to his, and the vulnerability drawn on his face made her want to hold him close and never let go. “You didn’t imagine anything,” she assured him.

He leaned back in the chair and inhaled deeply. Instead of answering, he took a few more gulps of beer and watched her attentively. His stare wandered down the length of her, lingering on her painfully hard nipples, which were all too noticeable through her thin T-shirt.

The bad news? The wine, gin gimlet, and countless cups of water she’d gulped down tonight were wreaking havoc on her bladder.

“Excuse me for a second,” she said, getting to her feet.

Nick nodded. “Of course.”

As she proceeded to the bathroom, she heard him toss the empty beer can into the nearby recycling bin. She closed the door and quickly used the facilities. While at the sink washing her hands, she glanced in the mirror. She looked…like she’d been working all day and had knocked back a few.

Despite all that, she still had her wits about her, so she reapplied her mascara and spread a bit of concealer under her eyes, topping her touch-up off with lip balm. She knew sex was a certainty at this point—he was in her hotel room, after all—but vanity held strong. After one final perusal in the mirror, she nodded firmly at herself. Once she stepped outside, she would officially make a move. No more of this blundering small talk.

April opened the door and found Nick standing on the other side, leaning against the wall. “Oh, hi. Do you need…?” She stepped out and gestured behind her to the restroom.

Quick as a flash, he grabbed her waist and spun her around. He pushed her back against the wall he’d been leaning against, and an ardent gasp escaped her throat. Feeling his hands on her after only a few innocent touches was almost too much to bear.

“Yes, Ineed,” he growled before sealing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was perfect—fervid and searching and reverent and frantic, the ultimate culmination of nights of shameless flirting and tentative connection. His fingers dug into her hips, and she finally draped her arms over his broad shoulders, indulging in the feel of his physique. His mouth worked magic, moving his lips against her own, and she opened to allow his tongue full entry. She was no novice when it came to kissing, but this was on another level. It stripped her bare, and she suddenly couldn’t imagine ever doing this with anyone other than him.

It was dizzying to finally be so close to him—to taste the hint of beer on his lips and inhale his scent. An alluring aroma of sandalwood and citrus wafted from him and intoxicated her further. This man was more potent than any cocktail she’d ever consumed.

He pulled away abruptly and rested his forehead against hers. “Shit. Sorry,” he panted.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Mauling you like that.”

“Oh, sure. I’m absolutely scandalized,” she teased. “How dare you.”

He laughed huskily and brought his hands up to cradle the back of her head. “Can I take your hair down?” he murmured.

Something about the simple question made her heart tingle. It was so wholesome. As if they were young lovers frolicking on a moor during the nineteenth century, as opposed to two people in their midthirties who had loved and lost and made mistakes but still somehow found the strength to be vulnerable with each other.