Warnings for girl-sex, non-con, and infidelity. Enjoy!
Naomi Penber was happy.
She had a wonderful life – a wonderful husband, therefore a wonderful life. He loved her, gave her everything she needed, and was forever solid and dependable: the sort of man every girl wished to marry. Her own Prince Charming, of sorts, one who continuously swept her off her feet and always, always protected her. Sheltered her. Provided for her. Loved her.
She was happy, really. She was in love – right? This was what love felt like – wasn't it? Of course it was.
She just wondered sometimes why 'love' made her feel like she was suffocating.
But no – dutiful wives did not think such thoughts, so she pushed any doubts from her mind. She loved Raye – she had been married to Raye for coming on three years – and she was happy. Very happy. If she occasionally thought her life stifling, if every so often she wondered if this was what she'd really wanted for herself, she quickly reminded herself of Raye and how much she loved him.
Raye was…wonderful. Anyone would love Raye, were they as lucky as she as to be married to him. Surely she loved him.
She had loved him before, hadn't she? Why else would she have agreed to leave behind her life with the FBI and abandon everything just to be with him, just to be the wife he deserved? Only love could have promoted such a sacrifice.
It was only during the darkest pits of the night – with Raye snoring gently beside her, her hands tainted with the eclectic smell of hours of cooking, her body sweating and aroused, filled but still unfulfilled – that the doubts crept in and refused to be sent away. So she'd let them inside for a while, welcoming them into her soul, only until the sun brought a new day and new meals to cook and the same husband to kiss goodbye as he left for work, and she'd wonder.
But that was all. She wondered, and she doubted, and she questioned – and it wasn't what her mother had raised her to do but it was necessary, because she could feel herself slipping farther and farther away as she went through the motions of each day, telling herself she was happy because who wouldn't be?
It was selfish of her to be anything but happy. Content. Grateful.
So she was happy, and she tried her best to ignore the signs that shouted with too-loud voices that she might be otherwise.
And Raye didn't know.
She wouldn't let him know. This was her struggle, and until she got it sorted out he deserved a loving, dutiful wife who cooked him warm meals and washed his clothes and spread her goddamn legs when he wanted sex – because he was a good, wonderful man who made her happy, and she loved him.
And that was what you did when you loved someone. Her mother had told her that. Love meant giving yourself completely, no reservations, so surely she must love him. She gave so much; it couldn't be anything but love.
She couldn't be anything but happy.
After all, it wasn't as if she were shut away in some tiny house every day, waiting for her husband to come home, filling her days with nothing but cooking and cleaning and empty hours where there was too much space to think – like her mother had been.
No, Naomi was blessed with a husband who loved to travel as much as she did – whose job required he travel – and so they were often jetting around the world, seeing new sights and new peoples and new hotel rooms. And even if she did spend most of the day shut away in spacious hotel rooms, waiting for her husband to come back, filling her days with nothing but cooking and waiting and empty hours, she had it a lot better than most people. She got to travel and see the world, at the side of the man she loved.
Why would she want anything else? This was what she had wanted when she'd married Raye. Hadn't it been?
Of course it had.
They were in Chicago now. Naomi liked Chicago. She liked big cities in general (Raye liked the countryside), and Chicago had a nice flavor, exciting and sophisticated, with all the haste and grit hidden away in the darker corners.
And it was grey. Very grey.
The weather had been overcast for the past three days, the rain indecisive – gentle and brief whenever it did decide to fall, the clouds hovering constantly but rarely giving more than empty threats and half-hearted drizzles.
Naomi had stepped out for a bit, just for a nip of coffee and maybe a little cautious exploring, because she couldn't stay another minute in the hotel room and not go insane, even if Raye said it was dangerous to go out on her own. She would be fine. She had taken care of herself before; she could do it again if the need arose.
She hadn't thought to bring an umbrella on her excursion. The clouds had been clearing up a little all morning, looking like they might decide to move along and bother some other city with their uncertainty, so she set out with just her tight jeans that brought back a hint of swagger to her step and her leather jacket to fend off the biting wind.
The brisk, moist air had done wonders for her mindset, the coffee even more. They certainly didn't solve her doubts, but they did distract. Distraction was good. Distraction was what she needed, so she didn't have time to think and wonder. She was even a little excited to make dinner that night – it was a recipe her mother had taught her, and Raye had said it was one of his favorites. Maybe he'd give her a smile as she served it and say how precious she was to him, how much she deserved to be cared for and protected, and she'd fall in love with him all over again.
Maybe all her doubts would just fade away like dust caught in a breeze, like they used to whenever Raye held her close and breathed in the scent of her hair and engulfed her in his presence. Maybe she would just stop thinking.
Maybe she'd remember why she had married Raye in the first place.
It poured on the way back to the hotel.
Naomi ran as fast as she could, but even she couldn't run fast enough to dodge the rain. Without the shelter of an umbrella, the rain was free to shower over her, over her hair and clothes and skin, gliding though strands of black and dripping into her eyes. Another day Naomi might have been annoyed, but today it only felt liberating. A rejuvenating ecstasy, reminding her of when she used to play in the rain as a child, with no concern for anything but her and the crying sky.
It was when she walked into the hotel lobby that she became self-conscious. She suddenly became acutely aware of her sopping jeans, her soaking hair, her saturated shirt clinging almost indecently to her skin. She left a trail of puddles along the polished floor as she tried to slip unnoticed to the lift, feeling each disdainful glance from refined patrons raking along her sodden form.
Years ago she would have walked proudly and without concern, too certain of herself to be cowed by disapproving strangers and a little water, and a little of that confidence resurfaced as she made the walk of dripping shame, their contempt sparking a repressed fire within her. Her shoulders straightened slightly and her eyes blazed just a little, and she remembered what it used to feel like to be Naomi Misora: capable and strong and more than just a sheltered trophy.
Maybe she could be that person again, just for a moment. Just until she got back to the hotel room and started the chicken for tonight.
She reached the elevator with her chin lifted, perhaps not as high as before but high enough, and found someone else there waiting.
It was a woman, with eye-catching blond hair, her face obscured by dark sunglasses and a bubble from her chewing gum. She wore just a lightweight summer's dress, a bright red that stood out against the muted colors of the lobby, and she held a purse and a closed, black umbrella in hand.
And she was completely soaked.
Her gum popped and she turned her head as Naomi approached, revealing daring red lips which were curling into a smile.
"Got you too, did it?" Her voice was quick and light and unapologetically refined, with a hint of something Naomi could only call mischievous. It was the voice of someone who knew what she wanted from life and took it, with an audacious smile and an impish joy.
Naomi smiled politely.
"I'm afraid it did. I didn't think to bring an umbrella."
The woman laughed – a free, lilting dance of a laugh, like the sound of raindrops on metal.
"I even had an umbrella, and a fat lot of good it did me. Stubborn thing refuses to open." She shook the black plastic a little, as though to demonstrate its obstinate determination to go against her wishes. "I knew I should have taken the orange one, but it clashed horribly."
Naomi turned her eyes to focus on the woman's outfit, but felt a little uncomfortable when she realized how clinging the thigh-length dress became when soaked in water. The material was hugging tightly to the woman's chest and legs, revealing more of her figure than generally accepted in polite society.
Naomi pulled her eyes away again quickly.
"It's a shame about the rain," she said lightly. "I hope your dress isn't ruined."
A grin was curving up the woman's painted mouth, and Naomi was sure she could sense her discomfort and was amused by it. But all she said was, "Thanks, hun," with another pop of her gum, then a tiny light above their heads dinged on and the lift doors glided open.
Naomi stepped back as a crush of people poured from the tiny box, pressing a little closer to the strange woman to make room, until finally the lift was empty and they both could step in, the doors slowly shutting them inside.
The air was warm inside, pleasant after the drafty lobby. Beneath Naomi's fingertip, the button for twenty-one lit up.
"Which floor?" she asked courteously.
"I'll get it." The blonde woman reached across Naomi, flicking one of the buttons with a bold red nail, and as she did her arm brushed with a ghost's touch against Naomi's chest – and she was suddenly acutely aware of how the cold rainwater had made her nipples tighten and stand up against her wet shirt.
The small lift was at once very uncomfortable. Naomi pulled her jacket closer around herself.
The woman popped her gum again, seeming not to notice Naomi's distress, and began rifling through the small purse she had clutched in one hand.
"That's a lovely ring," she commented airily, not looking up from her search. "Wedding ring?"
Naomi nodded, the fingers of her right hand unconsciously flitting up to twist at the cold metal.
"Yes. We'll have been married three years next month."
The woman pulled out an empty wrapper and spat her chewing gum into it, squishing it up and dropping it back into her purse.
"How sweet. Personally, I don't think I could do it – tie myself down to one person, I mean. Seems a little stifling. I'm sure your husband is perfectly lovely, of course," she assured with a flash of a smile, tucking her purse under one arm.
Naomi nodded. "Raye is…wonderful. I'm lucky to have him. We're very happy." She didn't want to be talking about Raye right now. She didn't want to be having doubts right now.
She watched the flickering numbers on the wall, announcing each floor as it was passed them by.
"You don't seem very happy."
Naomi's heart stuttered, truth hitting harder when from a stranger's mouth.
She had no idea what to say, but it didn't matter because she didn't have time to reply anyway. At the moment, there was a grinding screech and the lift suddenly caught in a jolting stop, right between the fifteenth and sixteenth floors, and Naomi was almost knocked off her feet.
"For god's sake," the woman snapped, having hardly moved at all. "Damned elevator. Hang on, I'll call them and let them know what's happening." She unhooked the phone provided for just such emergencies, and shortly was carrying on a quick, clipped conversation with someone on the other line.
"Elevator's stopped, love, thought you ought to know… Yes, fifteenth and sixteenth… What? All of them? Well that's a damned nuisance… All right, just tell them to hurry their asses up. I've got things to do today that are more important than waiting around in an elevator for idiots like you to do their job."
And with a clack of plastic the phone was hung up.
At Naomi's inquiring look, the woman sighed in annoyance.
"All the elevators have stopped, apparently. They don't know what's wrong, but they've sent for someone to take a look. They said the soonest they'd get here is an hour. Can you believe this utter shit?"
Naomi murmured a quiet, "Oh dear," but was a little distracted, because the woman had chosen that moment to remove her sunglasses, uncovering a pair of bright, dark eyes that looked unsettlingly like two sapphires, but warmer and much more alive than any gem had the right to be.
"You have beautiful eyes," Naomi blurted out without thinking, and immediately bit her tongue.
But the woman just smiled a quick, half-teasing smile. "Thanks, love. But I like your eyes – they're like a hot cup of coffee with just a dash of cream, just how I like to drink it."
Naomi shifted uncomfortably and gave a weak smile. "Um, thank you," she said. She didn't know why the air felt so uneasy, so uncertain – so full of potential – but there was something about this woman that made her feel…something. And she didn't know what, and she didn't know why. There was something very free about the woman, like rain falling with joyful abandon from the sky, and her soul had felt stifled for so long it didn't know what to do with such carefree confidence.
"I'm Wedy," the woman introduced crisply.
"Naomi." There was no harm in giving a first name.
The woman – no, Wedy – extended a slender hand towards her, and for a moment Naomi just blinked at it, her mind forgetting even the most basic of social cues. Then, belatedly, she raised her own hand and grasped it.
It wasn't until their hands were clasped that Naomi realized how long it had been since she'd had physical contact with another human besides Raye. It felt…startling. And pleasant.
"Nice to meet you," Wedy said, her lips twisting daintily.
Naomi nodded and smiled, trying to think how long was customary to remain with hands wrapped around each other's, because surely this was longer than standard, though the soft hand felt nice against her own, cold from wind and water.
Wedy finally let go, but her mischievous eyes didn't drop from Naomi's face.
"Listen, sweetie," she said, taking a step towards her. "I'm actually on a bit of a schedule here, but I think I have a bit of time for fun before I blow on out of here. What do you say?"
Naomi wanted to point out they were on a stuck lift, so there wouldn't really be any blowing out anywhere for a while, but Wedy took another step and then Naomi had other things to worry about, like why a strange woman was sauntering towards her and eyeing her wet denim-covered legs.
"E-excuse me?" she asked, cursing the stutter as she took a step backwards.
"A bit of fun." Wedy took two steps forwards, a sly grin pulling up the corners of her mouth, and Naomi took another step backwards and hit against the lift wall. "Don't worry – it's not like you can get pregnant."
Naomi's brain tripped and stumbled as it tried to keep up with the situation. Was she...being propositioned? In an elevator, by another woman?
"But, I'm married," was all she could think to say, wondering if there was any way she had misunderstood the situation.
Wedy was only about a foot away now. She flicked a piece of wet blond hair over her shoulder and ran those distracting blue eyes up and down Naomi's flustered form.
"Oh, he won't know. He won't notice a thing, just like he hasn't noticed all that sadness pooling up behind your eyes. What can it hurt?"
Naomi's mind felt absolutely blank of anything useful, stuck in stunned surprise. She couldn't think, much less speak, and she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't stepped into a dream somewhere along the way. Completely taken aback, she stuttered out the first words that found her tongue.
"I- I mean I'm straight!"
Wedy smiled, and the closer she got the less useful Naomi's brain became. "Nah, you just think you are. Trust me on this one, doll – you aren't completely straight. Would you like me to show you what I mean?"
As she floundered, Naomi managed to catch on to one coherent thought, and she clung to it like it was her only lifeline: she was happily married to Raye. It would break his heart if she cheated on him.
She was married, and married women did not behave like this.
"Step away from me please," she said, making her voice as firm as it had ever been years ago.
Contrarily, the other woman's body pressed a little closer, now just inches between them, a smirk twisting red lips.
"Are you sure you want that?" Wedy whispered, her voice soft and full of promise.
Am I sure? Am I sure of anything anymore?
"I'm proficient in three types of martial arts," Naomi tried again, hating the way she wavered under the teasing stranger's gaze, despising the sudden weakness of the desperate edge in her voice as she felt a rush of hormones and questions she didn't know what to do with. In an instant, all her doubts abruptly turned on her and attacked all at once, her previous lifeline trying to choke her now.
Was she happy?
Raye hardly spoke to her now, spending all day working and giving her meaningless phrases of empty love and absentminded affection. Every question she had ever wondered about in the dark of night returned, pelting her with the unavoidable reality of a sweep of chilling rain.
And blue eyes sparkled in sly amusement, confusing her further.
"Ooh, are you?" the woman asked in a lilting purr. "Three types? How fun. I'd love to see what you can do."
Another inch closer, then there was nothing between them but a sliver of air and a whole lot of electricity Naomi was trying very hard to ignore as her mind struggled for an anchor to steady her.
She was a good wife, a good wife, a straight wife, who loved her husband – didn't she? – and honored him and prepared him dinner and made sure his clothes were clean and mended and obeyed him without question and gave up everything so she could sit in a hotel room all day and spread her legs when he wanted and-
A sinuous hand was rubbing at her hip, gentle and beguiling, softer than she'd experienced before.
"You seem frightfully sad, love. Troubled. Why don't you let me help you forget for a moment? No one will know. It will just be for you."
Then the hand was creeping up the soft contours of her stomach, higher, brushing softly against her shirt until it reached the gentle swell of her chest. Naomi trembled, all ability to think rationally slipping away without a backwards glance. She knew she needed to make a decision, yet she just stood there and trembled, another woman's soft hands on her body – and through inaction, made her choice.
The hand closed around one breast, holding it lightly, and Naomi didn't know why she was letting a stranger who definitely wasn't Raye touch her in this way, but she didn't want it to stop so she let it happen, her breath shaking a little as she slowly pulled it into her lungs, smirking blue eyes on hers.
"Let me show you the pleasure another woman can give," Wedy whispered in a seductive hush, a snake's tempting hiss, and she placed a delicate hand on Naomi's thigh.
Naomi could feel herself sliding away, caught in the snare of laughing eyes and persuasive hands.
Their bodies were so close, and Naomi was trembling, and she was sure Wedy could feel it but she couldn't care; that moist-looking mouth – so soft, so red – was getting closer and closer, she could feel breath on her lips, all it would take was one tiny movement and their lips would be brushing.
And right as they were about to touch the hand on her leg slid upwards sharply and squeezed right between her legs, tight and intimate.
"Oh god!" she choked. Her knees buckled a little.
"That's it, love," the stranger whispered against her mouth, half-supporting her as she lost some of the strength in her legs.
And Naomi couldn't help it but she gasped against those lips, and the palm began grinding into her through her snug jeans and underwear, rubbing steadily, Wedy's hand firm and supple against her body.
"That's it," Wedy murmured again. "Let me hear it, doll. Let it out."
A quick inhale, a trembling exhale, and Naomi could hardly stand. For a moment, she thought to pull away and make this stop, but all her will and resistance were quickly being drained from her and she did nothing.
The palm cupping her breast and brushing against her hardened nipple began rubbing softly, the fingers curling under to let long nails, the color of freshly-spilt blood, scratch her sensitive peaks through her wet clothes. The hand between her legs was insistent, slim fingers slipping downwards to press along the seam of her jeans, and she shuddered as they trailed lightly along the center line, back up the zip to stop expectantly at the button.
At some point, Naomi's head had fallen forward, resting on the woman's shoulder who caressingly teased her body, gentle breath against her hair and ear.
Then two slender fingers pinched her chin, gently turning her face to look into Wedy's. The other hand brushed at her hair with the false comfort of a siren's touch.
"You don't need to worry," Wedy breathed. "Your body wants this – just let your mind rest. It will be okay. Just this once."
Then the long fingers were drawing her face closer and closer, their breaths were pushing against the other's, and Naomi's mind flew away as their half-parted lips connected.
It felt like the world paused for just a moment, even the rain holding its breath.
Then her everything swept back in, taking her along with it, and oh god, she was kissing another woman – what was she doing kissing another woman? – but it felt so exquisite, so wet and warm and sweet and intoxicating, a summer shower, and a nimble tongue slipped inside her mouth and brushed against her own, against the silky walls and trailing along the roof, leaving tingling nerves in its wake.
Naomi was tingling all over, her tongue uncertain of what it wanted to do. There was a sharp nibble on her bottom lip, and before she could even react, a slim thigh was pressing between hers, rubbing gently.
She gasped, and Wedy took advantage of it by forcing her tongue even deeper into her mouth, stroking, dancing.
Naomi was catching fire, each brush of the thigh between her legs sparking a knee-weakening wave of pleasure, and she found herself slowly sinking to the lift floor, her back sliding against the wall, Wedy following her down, never breaking contact.
They met the floor, and red lips began kissing along her jaw and chin, down her neck, sharp teeth raking along her collar bone and pausing at the neckline of her wetted shirt. Hands slipped beneath the shirt, fingers stroking lightly on her damp skin, and then it began to lift just a little.
A knee pressed right in between her legs on the floor, brushing against her zip, and as she was distracted Wedy's hands began peeling her out of her jacket.
She let them, even helping a little.
She didn't know what she was doing. What she was thinking. What the hell she was- ahhh…
Her ear was taken between delicate teeth, tugged lightly and soothed with a tongue's soft lick.
And Wedy's hands were back, lifting her shirt again, this time slowly dragging it all the way upwards and over her head, her arms lifting obligingly, until all she was wearing was a pair of wet denim, a bra, and prickling goosebumps.
Wedy's hot breath ghosted down her sternum, slowing in between her breasts. Naomi felt slyly tentative lick, tripping unexpected nerve endings, then Wedy's mouth was kissing its way over to one of her hardened nipples, visible through her bra. Wedy bit her lightly, taking smooth cloth and tightened nub alike into her mouth, teasing the peak with her tongue.
"Ohhhh…" Naomi moaned, despite her attempt to hold back as the blonde worked at her nipple.
Wedy began pressing spine-tingling, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach as she lowered herself to the floor, propping herself up on her elbows as she lay between Naomi's legs, pressing them open farther. She slowly dragged her tongue along the waistband, blue eyes dancing up at Naomi's flushed face.
Leisurely, her mouth moved downwards.
Her face was right in the center of Naomi's legs now, and Naomi knew her own face was burning up almost as much as her body was. She couldn't quite believe she was letting this happen, but she was, and however much she'd regret it later she was going to let it consume her now.
Then teeth began raking against her jeans, against her clit, between her trembling legs. There was a lick, right above where she could feel herself pulsing.
"I can almost taste you already," Wedy said with a throaty laugh, then she took a deep inhale against Naomi's jean-covered clit, her delicate nose brushing against coarse denim. "Mhm…you smell delicious."
Naomi was shaking – her legs, her hands, her breath – and she couldn't help the desire she felt despite her shame at the stranger's intimate position. She hardly noticed as Wedy began carefully unbuttoning her jeans, dragging the zip down slowly, then gingerly rolling her pants and underwear off her hips. She lifted up instinctively, allowing her to pull them away completely, the wet denim clinging stubbornly to her legs but eventually giving way to Wedy's will.
Oh god, what was she doing. She was sitting in a lift, completely exposed save for a bra, her limbs slightly trembling, letting another woman stare down into her private folds and she wasn't doing anything to stop it.
And she wasn't doing anything to stop the hands dragging bright nails lightly up her legs, dancing along her thighs, and she wasn't stopping the hand that slipped daringly in between her legs.
And she didn't stop the finger that slipped deep inside her.
She gasped a little, feeling the cold, slender digit probing her and the palm that pressed unavoidably against her clit, grinding downwards.
Wedy had at some point straddled Naomi's thigh, her dress bunching around her hips as she began rocking back and forth, rubbing herself gently against the tone of Naomi's leg, but Naomi had no attention to give because she was being slowly overtaken by the thrilling delight that hand was working her towards, thrusting and stroking and fingering deep inside.
It didn't stop – it went on and on, until she felt she surely must go mad from the sensations building inside her.
Her breath was coming in shuddering gasps now, loud and uneven as she was rubbed and caressed incessantly. She couldn't stop it, she couldn't stop it, she didn't want it to stop, then her mouth was caught in a kiss of passion and unrepented sin, their breasts pressing together and hard nipples brushing as Wedy rocked and caressed and licked and bit and pulled her closer and closer to the edge – and then it was all too much, entirely too much, and Naomi was crying out and shuddering and bucking her hips into Wedy's hand as consuming waves of rapture overtook her completely, pulsing through her body in rush after rush of pleasure – a thunderstorm breaking throughout her suddenly, a pouring flood, powerful and intense and consuming as it snapped like lightning through her body.
"There you go, that's it," Wedy murmured into her ear as she trembled, her fingers still digging deep inside. "You're beautiful, come all over my hand, love."
"Ah, hah, ah!" Naomi gasped heavily, and Wedy pressed their mouths together again so she could swallow each one, licking her lips like a cat after a meal.
When the final racking tremor had passed and she was left sweaty and trembling slightly, Naomi sank heavily against the wall, reality rushing in, inescapable and unwanted.
Wedy stood, straightening her dress and tracking down her lost purse, dropped along the way.
"See?" she said, stooping to snatch it up with a pleased grin. "Wasn't that fun? I'm sure you'll feel much better now."
Naomi did not feel better; her heart was hard and fast against her chest, and she was beginning to panic.
"Oh my god, what have I done?" she whispered, horror slipping in as reality grabbed her once again. "What was I thinking?" She wasn't yet hyperventilating, but that was only because her traitorous body was too sated to do so quite yet.
"You had a bit of fun in an elevator with a stranger. No need to be so dramatic about it. Life does go on."
Naomi lifted her chin to stare in disbelief at the other woman, and was shocked to find Wedy had somehow removed one of the panels from the lift ceiling and had climbed up through it, peeking her head cheerfully down through.
"It's been smashing, but I'm afraid I must be going," she said, sounding completely unruffled and at ease. "This convenient elevator breakdown won't last forever, you know. And don't worry about the cameras – I'll take care of those." This was said with a significant glace at the black, all-seeing camera in the corner, which Naomi had completely failed to consider. "See you around, love!"
Then Wedy was gone with a blown kiss and a wink, the ceiling panel clicking tightly behind her.
Naomi was left to dazedly climb back into her still-soaked clothes and curl into a tight ball, her tears raining softly down her cheeks.
It was two hours before the lift was repaired.
When she made it at last to the hotel room, Raye was already returned.
"Naomi!" he exclaimed, taking in her bedraggled clothes and weary eyes. "Where have you been?"
"I just went out for some coffee," she said, her voice hollow and her eyes unable to meet her husband's gaze. "The elevator got stuck on the way back."
Raye's arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her against his body, warm and strong and solid, a mountain's embrace.
"Are you alright?"
Naomi nodded. "I'm fine."
Raye pulled away slightly and smiled down at her. "Good. And thank God nothing more serious happened."
I cheated on you, Raye. With a woman.
But Naomi just nodded again, guilt eating like acid at her stomach, her brain deadened.
"I'm going to go to bed early. I'm not feeling well."
"I think that's a good idea. Don't worry about dinner tonight sweetie, I can fend for myself for one night," he joked, giving her a kiss on the nose. "Get some rest."
She smiled wanly, knowing there would be little rest for her.
A pair of smirking blue eyes followed her all the way into her guilt-laced dreams, the scent of fresh rain on her sheets.
The next day, Naomi learned there had been several high-priority patrons of the hotel whose rooms had been robbed during the distraction of the lifts failing. Out of all the most expensive suites, only one had been missed.
She wondered if it had been a coincidence that the missed suite had been hers.
Sparkling, mischievous eyes and a red curled smile flashed in her mind, and she thought not.