Rolling in the Deep by Rebecca Rogers Maher Page A

are. What we are.
    What we want.
    “Holly.”
    She stares at my mouth, breathing hard, and I swear to God my knees almost buckle.
    “There’s a…there’s the hotel. The one behind the…out the side—”
    “Yes,” she says. She raises her gaze to mine. Her blue eyes are dark and dilated. “Yes, Ray.”

Chapter 11
Holly
    We find an emergency exit on the side of the building and open it carefully. It leads out into a short stretch of grassy marsh. On the other side of that is a mid-range hotel, tall and nondescript against the bright afternoon sun. I’ve passed it every single day I’ve worked at Cogmans, and each time I’ve wondered who in the world stays there.
    We walk in through a tall, bright atrium that leads to the front desk. The silence is cushioned, lush, and compared to the constant chatter of Cogmans, it feels…expensive. I duck into a ladies’ room while Ray checks in, just to get away from the ambiguous stare of the woman behind the desk. She probably thinks I’m a prostitute. I yank my denim skirt down lower so that it almost covers my knees, and wash my hands. The soap smells like sage and mint.
    Ray is waiting for me by the elevator. I see him before he sees me, and I almost turn around. I almost sneak out the way I came in.
    When he suggested the hotel, I didn’t have time to think. Or rather, my ability to think was…compromised.
    I wanted him. I wanted to forget. About everything else. If we had made love right then and there, surreptitiously behind a stack of detergent, I could have claimed that I’d been caught up in the heat of moment, that I didn’t mean to do it.
    But I stopped. I said yes. I walked here with him and waited while he checked in. I can’t pretend that I didn’t decide this, that I’m not actively choosing it.
    —
    Ray turns and sees me, and smiles, and it’s the shyness of that smile, the sweetness, that makes me walk toward him.
    Yes, I am choosing this. I want this. I take his hand, and the warmth of it, the fullness of that warmth, is an unspeakable relief.
    He doesn’t say anything in the elevator. We stand side by side, hand in hand, and watch the numbers light up one by one.
    When the doors open to our floor, he leads the way to the end of the hall and slides the card key into the lock. The room is larger and brighter than any I’ve ever stayed in before. The bed is wide and clean.
    I’m guessing Ray charged the room to his credit card since we don’t have our money yet. I bet it’ll feel good to him to pay off that bill next week.
    I think of the debt I’ve been struggling under for years, the interest that keeps adding up, the balance that’s now three times as much as what I actually spent. A balance I’d never have been able to repay in one lump sum, let alone in minimum-payment increments.
    I’ve carried that debt since Brett and I got married. I charged my wedding dress to that card.
    Next week it’ll be gone, like it was never there. I’ll be free.
    Ray moves into the room, a gentle energy vibrating off him. He’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. Work boots. Muscles line his back, his arms. He stops at the window and turns to me, the sun in his hair.
    I go to him, and lean my forehead against his chest.
    He’s free now, too. Both of us, we’ve been cut loose. None of the old rules apply to us anymore. We’re out in the ether, alone.
    Except for each other.
    I press a kiss against his rib cage. I listen to his heart beating.
    “No one knows we’re here,” he says.
    His smile arrows through me, and I remember the first time I met him. He walked into the break room while I was drinking coffee, and sat down and introduced himself like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t the hottest man I had ever seen in my life, like his body didn’t radiate heat.
    Maybe he didn’t realize. I tried to be helpful to him, as a coworker, to be kind, and I forced myself not to show any reaction to him, any attraction. I didn’t want to give him that kind