Page 59 of The Art of Catching Feelings

Which was unexpected on so many levels. For one, Chris couldn’t remember feeling that way even about women he’d been actively dating. He’d always been laid-back in relationships—he knew his schedule didn’t leave a lot of time for someone else in his life, and he’d always been careful not to promise anything he couldn’t deliver.

And then there was the matter of Duckie. She lived in his phone, in a text message exchange that was already time-stamped over three weeks ago. For all he knew, she wanted nothing to dowith him. Meanwhile, Daphne wasright there, standing in front of him, and he’d turned her down. He’d hurt her.

“Another?” the bartender asked, gesturing to Chris’ glass, which was now more melted ice than ginger ale.

Chris stood, grabbing a few bills out of his wallet and laying them down without even looking at them. From the bartender’s expression, he could tell it was way too much, but he didn’t care. He’d once rounded the bases for an in-the-park home run in less than fifteen seconds. He had to hope it was enough to catch Daphne before it was too late.

TWENTY-FIVE

The diamond-patterned carpet was swimming in front of Daphne’s vision, and she angrily swiped at her eyes before any tears could fall. She just couldn’t believe she’d been sostupid. She never put herself out there like that. Never. And now she remembered why.

She stepped into the elevator, frustrated when it took her several tries to get the door panel to light up from scanning her room key card. The doors were starting to close when she saw a blur of motion outside, and normally she would’ve hit thedoor openbutton, tried to hold the elevator for whoever needed on, but tonight she wasn’t in the mood to share space with anyone. She tucked herself into the corner, hoping they wouldn’t see her, but then a hand shot out to stop the doors from closing.

It was Chris. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, a single lock of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“What—” she started to say, but she didn’t get the words out before he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

And oh, did hekissher. It was a toe-curling kiss. A just-got-back-from-war kiss. His fingertips were at her jaw, and he tilted her face up to claim her mouth, his tongue sliding along the seam of her lips until she opened up for him. He backed her against themirrored wall of the elevator, and she was only dimly aware of the door closing behind them, cocooning them inside the small space. She gripped his biceps like she was about to fall over, even though there was no fear of that, not with the way he was holding her. His hands slid down, grasping her waist as he leaned into her ear.

“Idowant you,” he said. “I think I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”

“Not thefirstmoment,” she said, her voice coming out a little breathless.

“During that first interview, then,” he said, palms warm on her rib cage, skimming the undersides of her breasts. “The way you tucked your hair behind your ear.” His large hands were fully cupping her under her sweatshirt now, and he groaned as he rubbed his calloused fingers over the taut buds of her nipples. “Fuck. I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

“I knew you were looking.” She pulled him back down for another kiss, her tongue swirling with his in a hot, wet joining before he moved to press openmouthed kisses to her throat. Briefly she got a glimpse of herself over his shoulder in the mirrored wall of the elevator, and she barely recognized herself—her eyes glazed, her curls sticking up in every direction, her mouth swollen and raw.

They were still entangled with each other when the door opened on her floor, then closed again when they didn’t move apart. He reached around her to push another button. “My room,” he said.

She didn’t care where they ended up. Despite the fact that they’d just discussed the need to keep any relationship private, despite the fact that there were almost certainly cameras in the hotel elevators, she found she couldn’t think straight enough to worry about any of that.

Except—

“Won’t there be a lot more traffic with the team all hanging around?”

He considered that for a second before reaching around her again to press the original button for her floor. He didn’t have to crowd her to do that, but he seemed to want to stay as close as possible, one hand still under her shirt, the other pulling her back for a quick, hard kiss before the doors finally opened again.

“I don’t know who else has rooms on this floor,” she said against his mouth. “But what if—”

She gave a little squeak as he scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other wrapped tight around her shoulders. “We’ll say you rolled your ankle,” he said.

“Wait, really?”

He grinned down at her, and it was such a happy, open expression. She didn’t think she’d ever seen it on his face before—in pictures, maybe, but never in person. It made something tighten in her chest.

“No, not really. They’d see right through that. We’ll just have to be fast.”

And with that, the doors opened, and he started heading right before she’d had a chance to tell him her room number, laughing when she corrected him and he turned around toward the correct door. She reached down into the side pocket of her leggings, extracting her key card and waving it in front of the door until she saw the green light come on.

They were barely in the room before he’d laid her down on the bed, pushing her sweatshirt up so he could kiss her bare stomach, run his tongue along where her lower breast started to curve, take her nipple in his mouth. She gasped, arching up into him as she pulled him closer, her hands finding their way to the bunched muscles under his shirt.

“I want to worship you,” he groaned against her breasts, the day’s worth of beard on his jaw abrading the sensitive skin in a way that made every nerve ending fire.

“Worship me next time,” she said. “Tonight I just want you to fuck me.”

He had her leggings and underwear off in record time, and she pulled her sweatshirt over her head while he dealt with his own clothes. She should’ve felt self-conscious about being fully naked in front of him, so starkly, so suddenly, but she could only focus onhisbody, the flat planes of his chest and stomach, his thick muscular thighs. She’d already felt the hard jut of him when he’d slid her down his body, but now that she was seeing his erection up close, she couldn’t help it. She was a little intimidated. It had been a long time.

“Wait,” she said, the word coming out instinctively, before she even had the chance to think about what she was saying.

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