Home Run by Bernadette Marie Page B

to ask for the fifty dollars so she could go ask for a cab when Christian was before her, his mouth on hers, his hands pulling her to him, and her spinning head pushing aside all common sense.
    One of his hands slid over her bottom and the other skimmed her back until it was at the base of her neck. Fighting the whirling sensation buzzing through her, she wrapped her arms around Christian’s neck and tucked her fingers into his hair.
    She wasn’t sure how long they’d kissed—how long his hands had roamed her body—how long she’d gone without breathing properly. All she knew was nothing, sober or drunk, ever made her feel as alive as Christian Keller’s touches and kisses.
    “I need to get a cab,” she mumbled against his lips.
    “Stay. Stay with me.”
    She shook her head as he brushed kisses over her temple. “I can’t go home with you. I…”
    He produced a card key from his pocket. “Here.” He pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes. “One night. Just one night with me. Please.”
    That sentence said so many things, did he even know that? He wanted to keep her alone, in a hotel. There wasn’t an invitation to his home. Had he planned this all along? And he’d been very specific with the one night thing. It was just like him. Promise her forever, take it all back, and then want only one night.
    His mouth was back on hers and she couldn’t think anymore. No, he couldn’t have one night. He couldn’t have any, but when his hand grazed her back again, she felt defenseless against herself. She wanted him. She loved him. He wanted her for one more night. Couldn’t she give him that?”
    “You planned this?” Her voice was weak.
    “Tyler gave it to me.”
    Okay, she’d give him the spontaneity.
    Victoria pulled away from his lips and his body. She picked up her purse and walked out of the banquet hall. In her head she repeated the phrase you only live once.
    She could hear Chris scrambling behind her. As she walked down the hall toward the elevator banks she heard the door push open.
    “Where are you going?”
    “I don’t know,” she called back. “Which room?”
     
    Christian stood there. His feet seemed to melt into the ground. Was she kidding? He’d planned to wallow in his own sorrows by drowning them and then staying in bed all week. He didn’t anticipate this.
    Finally his body caught up with his brain and he followed her to the elevator.
    She’d already pushed the up button and was waiting for him.
    Christian stood next to her, not touching her, but looking up at the numbers on the elevator. “Are you sure about this?”
    “Chris,” she said without looking at him. “One thing that differs between you and me is when I commit to something I don’t back away. You asked me to stay—one night.” Finally she turned to him. “I want to stay.”
    The elevator door opened.
    They walked inside and he pushed the number four. More than once he tried to replay the conversation with Tyler about what room, but he was sure he remembered that part.
    Between them nothing was said. They didn’t touch. They didn’t even look at each other. But an energy resonated between them that anyone around them would surely feel.
    When the elevator stopped they stepped out and she followed him to the room he was sure Tyler had mentioned. At least he hoped it was the right room. At that moment, the millions of bubbles within that champagne he’d already drunk were swimming in his head. He eyeballed the bottle in his hand. He wondered if either of them would even want to drink it.
    Christian pulled the key from his pocket and Tori took it from him. “I’ll get it.”
    She slipped the key into the lock and the light turned green. She pushed open the door, took a step in, and turned back to him.
    He stood there just looking at her. The most beautiful woman he’d ever known was in his hotel room and was all his for the night. He absolutely didn’t see this coming when he reluctantly put on his