Olivia Westview
The room was quiet now, save for the muffled hum of the city and the faint rustle of my clothes as I moved around.
James had left not long ago, slipping out with a lingering kiss and that mischievous smirk I couldn’t resist. He was heading back to his hotel to get ready, promising to send a car for me so we could meet at the airport and board the plane together.
Not before another round of intimacy, of course.
I paused mid-step, biting my lip as the memory of it washed over me. His hands had lingered far too long as I’d playfully tried to push him out the door. “You’re going to make me late,” I’d scolded, breathless and half-hearted, because I didn’t mean it. Not really.
“Let them wait,” he’d replied. His fingers had traced the curve of my hip, slipping beneath the fa
