Hacked by Love, Part 2

There was something about the woman that sat next to me in the hotel bar. She was beautiful in her t-shirt and jeans, and she didn't seem to notice that everyone around us was dressed to impress. When she touched my arm and I felt an unfamiliar zap, I felt the need to suddenly pull away. Minutes turned into hours while we talked, and I couldn't help but want to learn more about her. When we stepped into the elevator, we realized our rooms were on the same floor. We were right next to each other. I watched her hips move beneath the tight denim covering her curves as she walked ahead of me. When she stopped in front of her door and the air between us vanished, I had a huge decision to make.

1. Would I do what I knew I needed to do and walk away from her? I had the meeting of my life just hours away, and I needed to get sleep so I could be at the top of my game. It was my dream job, and I was meeting my enemy, the one who'd messed with me for years. My life was planned out, and that meeting was vital to the entire plan. I needed rest. I needed to stay focused.

2. Would I slam her body against the hotel room door and cover her mouth with mine? I'd been feeling so much tension since I'd walked out of my earlier meeting. A little stress relief might help, I told myself. What could it hurt?

The moment her lips came up to meet mine, I was done.

It was the first time since I was ten that I'd ever put anything in front of my dreams. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I needed to turn around, go to my room, and keep my head in the game, but I couldn't do it. There was something about her that I had to have. I'd never had a serious relationship, and I'd never cared for a repeat performance. I had things to do. Once they were done, I'd think about the long term.

I grabbed my clothes, threw them on, and hurried to my room. Two hours was all the time I had to sleep before my meeting, and I needed every second. There was only one problem, and she was in the next room. I couldn't get her out of my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought about all of things I wanted to do to her. That wasn't me. I wasn't that guy.

I walked into my meeting the next morning trying to keep it together. I was exhausted, and I was distracted. Neither of those were appropiate in that moment. When the door opened an hour later and my competition walked through the door, my world stopped.

My competition, the guy who'd been giving me shit for years, wasn't a guy at all.

My enemy was a woman, but not just any woman.