Page 18 of Pillow Talk

Chapter 6

Alexa

Driving through downtown New York at night is incredible. I let the bright lights distract me from the fact that I kissed Ben. That his lips on mine was magical, and I want more.

We arrive at his condo in Manhattan, and I’m stunned. It’s sleek, stunning architecture, a fusion of mirrored glass and steel. I look up until my neck is craned back, and I nearly topple backwards. Ben is there to catch me.

Seems to be a reoccurring theme in the two whole days that I’ve known him.

“Let’s get you upstairs and to bed,” he says, grabbing a card from the driver before ushering me into the swanky building. The lobby is a contrast of dark grey wood, chrome trim and creamy white marble. This place is unreal.

“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,” I tease. The wine on the plane, coupled with that kiss and what I’m going to blame on jet lag, has me feeling woozy.

“Only the lucky ones.” He winks as he swipes his card in the elevator, and we go rocketing up in the glass cage.

Entering the apartment leaves me in the same type of awe as the lobby. It’s hard to imagine people really live like this. Dropping my bags at the door, I cross the hardwood floors, and I’m immediately drawn across the room where the floor-to-ceiling windows frame a picture-perfect view of Manhattan. The city and all its dazzling lights spread beneath me, it’s a rush.

While the space isn't overly huge, coming from someone who lived in a one bedroom studio with a shower curtain for a wall, this place is palatial.

“Does it ever get old?” Looking over my shoulder, I ask Ben whose eyes are locked on mine.

And without even have to explain myself he replies, “Never.”

“Then, why do you live in San Francisco instead of New York?” I question, walking towards him.

“Most of my family is in California, and I like remaining close to them. My business has been predominantly in San Francisco, bringing me to New York only occasionally.”

“So why even have a place here? I mean before now. Not trying to be rude, but it’s a little extravagant, don’t you think? A home on each coast yet no private plane?” I tease. My filter seems to have taken the night off.

“Lately, I’ve needed to be here on the East coast more and more frequently, and hopefully, that's going to be the case after all these meetings. I’ve had this place about a year.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t, as he fights an amused grin. I can tell from the way his lip twitches.

“I'll show you to your room.” He changes the subject and starts down the hallway with my bag. I guess that's my cue that it's time for bed, and even though I slept on the plane, I am pretty exhausted from the time change and traveling all day.

Walking past a large open concept contemporary kitchen, I follow him down the hall. Pointing left, he directs me, “Your bathroom is right through here.” I nod and continue following a few more steps before he turns to the right and opens a door, flipping on the light.

"What the hell?" His voice heavy with irritation.

I'm confused because this looks like a home gym or a home office with the loveseat. Surely he can't mean this is where I'm going to be staying. He brushes past me and through the door.

“I'm going to kill Noah,” he says, grabbing his phone and dialing. Marching down the hall, I hear him talking. “It’s not funny!”

I stand in the room, unsure what to do. It’s a great space, but not what I had in mind for a room. To be honest, I kind of assumed that we would be in an actual hotel.

Shutting off the light, I wander back out and close the door behind me.

I hear his voice raise. "Coincidence my ass! I don't care if there wasn't room for your stuff at your new place. Don’t think I don’t know what you're doing. You better get the stuff out of here. I don't care if you have to call someone to move it in the middle of the night.”

I take the opportunity to use the bathroom and freshen up. One look at that marble shower and my muscles start loosening up, just thinking about standing under that hot rain. Turning it on, I watch as steam fills the room.

Because the bathroom is not overly large, I grab my toiletry kit and set my bag in the hall. Surely he won't care; I am a guest here after all. And he did say this was my bathroom.

Water feels heavenly cascading down my body. Who knew a showerhead could have so many settings, and the jets. Ahhhhh. The jets come out from the wall; it's like a freaking HGTV commercial. This is the kind shower that would never run out of hot water. No banging on the pipes required. The irony is not lost on me that I went from homeless to showering in marble in less than forty-eight hours.

When I finally feel like I’ve washed away the day and then some, I step out and wrap myself in one of the towels from the linen cabinet. It’s the fluffiest, most plush towel I've ever had the privilege of wrapping my body in.

It’s like someone pulled a cloud from the sky and cut it in rectangular shapes, just to cover wealthy people's bodies.

Thankfully I am now a guest of all of this particular said wealthy person.

Pulling my hair into a low braid, I wrap the towel tightly around me, securing it at my chest, and open the door to reach out in the hall and grab my bag. It’s not there!

I tiptoe down the hall towards the living area, looking for Ben, but he's nowhere to be found. Walking back the way I came, past the bathroom and the spare room, I come to the only door that Ben didn’t open. I gently knock on the closed door, but there’s no answer.

“Ben?” I call out. Turning the knob, I step into what’s obviously the master suite and see the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, dominating the center of the room. Worn, grey leather tufted headboard with nickel nail heads and snowy white linens beckon me. I don't notice much else beyond the bed in this room because I want nothing more than to climb into the layers of the white and drift away. The sound of water running alerts me to the fact that he's probably taking a shower of his own; at least there are two bathrooms. I’m too tired to think about how amazing he probably looks dripping wet.

Walking close enough to touch the bed, I run my hand across the soft white duvet. I'm assuming since there's only one bed, he'll be a gentleman and give me this one until we can sort out the whole furniture debacle.

Testing out the feel of it, I lean on the bed. Since I still don't see my suitcase, and I don't want to rummage through his drawers, and I don’t want him to see me in a towel, I climb into the bed to wait for Ben. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I just laid back. Drawing the covers up to my chin, I snuggle in deeper.

I just need to keep my eyes open.

Maybe I'll just shut them.

But only for a second.

Or two.

Or-