I didn’t know what the hell to think about her. I hated her back then for leaving the way she did. I hated her for doing what she'd done, helping her parents with the scam that ripped off the same people in town who already despised my family even before I was associated with her.
She had made things worse for me. She didn't understand that. Or didn't care.
But here she was, in my arms again, all curves and tattoos and sass. And I wanted her.
My hands traveled down the sides of her hips, following the length of her dress until it ended. I took the edge of the material in my hands, then slid my hands underneath it and up around her hips, cupping her curvy ass. When Tempest laughed, it was a sound that was more familiar than anything else in the world. She batted at my hands. "Silas, my dress is up over my ass," she said.
"Oh, is it?" I groped her ass harder. "That's not decent at all."
"Let go of me, before someone comes down this hall."
"Who's coming down this hall?" I asked. "I like this ass. I used to love this ass."
"Well, the entire world doesn't need to see it," she said. But she was grinning.
"Then you'd better hurry up with that key card," I said. "Because I’m sure as hell not going to stop touching it."
Tempest laughed again, and the sound made her impossible to resist. Seeing her did something to me. It awakened things in me I thought I'd buried a long time ago.
Her lips parted slightly, and I didn't wait for whatever she was about to say in response. I let go of her ass with one hand and slid the same hand behind her head, pulling her against my mouth. She opened for me, her tongue pressing against mine, moaning into my mouth as she kissed me.
Then, as quickly as the kiss had started, she put her hands on my chest and pushed me away, her lipstick smudged on the edges of her lips, now plumped from the kiss.
“Hold on,” she said. “I have the key card right here.” She fumbled with the clasp on her purse, and I slid my hands back to where they had been, caressing her ass. “Hands off, Silas.”
I grabbed the key card from her fingers and waved it near the door handle, swinging it open. Squatting down beside her, right there in the hallway, I pulled the skirt up over her ass, my arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her in place.
Tempest squealed. “What the hell are you doing, Silas?”
“I’m not sure I remember your ass,” I said. “It’s been a long time. I need a closer view.”
“Not here,” she said.
“You’re right.” Before she could protest again, I leaned into her, standing up with her draped over my shoulder, her rear near my head, skirt bunched up to her waist.
“Silas Saint,” she said. “Put me down.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I have a better view now.”
“Put me down.”
But I didn’t. Instead, I smacked her ass cheek as I walked inside the room, then grabbed a handful of flesh. “You used to like it when I touched you like that.”
“We were kids,” she said.
“I’m sure that's all it was,” I said. "We were just horny teenagers, right?" I ran my hand down her curvy cheek, still on my shoulder, then touched my finger between her legs, feeling her wetness. She squirmed at my touch.
“Silas, put me the fuck down now,” Tempest said.
But I ignored her as I walked through the suite, past the sitting room and the grand piano, noting the ridiculous opulence. “Jesus, Tempest. You're living large, aren't you? Who the hell stays in a hotel suite with a grand piano?”
“It’s a business expense,” she said.
“Business expense,” I said. The words came out bitter, even though I didn't mean them to sound that way. Put it out of your head, I told myself. You don’t need to ask about however the hell Tempest gets her money. This is just a fling. This is revisiting the past, getting beyond it, and letting go.
When I reached the bedroom, I deposited her onto the bed. “At your service, my lady,” I said, in the best butler voice I could muster. I added a gesture and a bow, just for the hell of it.
I was trying to lighten my mood, but failing. It just made the moment more awkward.
“At my service?” she asked. She turned onto her side and propped up her head with her hand. A piece of hair fell across her face and she tucked it behind her ear. “If that’s the case, you’d better get to work.”
"Is that right?" I asked, standing beside the bed, drinking her in with my eyes. She lay with one leg crossed over the other, the fabric of her dress riding up on her thigh, covering the ass I'd just smacked. I wondered if I'd left a handprint on her flesh, and my cock stirred at the thought.
I crossed to the other side of the room and tugged at the sides of my shirt, intending to toss my clothes on the overstuffed chair in the corner. But I stopped at the sight of the chair.
Shit. That fucking chair probably cost more than the purse from my fight.