Chapter 44 One more drink

Chapter 44 One more drink
Tom’s POV
Jane opened the door and stepped inside first.
“Come in,” she said over her shoulder, already walking forward like she owned the space. “This is my room. I know it’s a little small, but—”
I didn’t let her finish.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I reached for her arm and turned her toward me. She let out a small sound of surprise as I pulled her close, my mouth finding hers before either of us could think better of it. The kiss came out of me fast and unfiltered, all the restraint I’d been carrying since the office dissolving in one sharp breath.
For half a second, she was still.
Then she responded.
Her hand slid up my chest, fingers pressing into my shirt as she kissed me back, slower than I was, measured, like she was testing the pace rather than matching it. The contrast only made me pull her closer. I’d come here with one clear intention, and now that we were finally alone, I didn’t see the point in dragging it out.
She broke the kiss first.
“Wait,” she said softly, palm against my chest. “Tom.”
I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing heavier than I wanted to admit. “What.”
She smiled, amused rather than annoyed. “At least let me finish welcoming you.”
“I don’t need a tour,” I said. “I didn’t come for the furniture.”
That made her laugh, a low sound that felt deliberate. “You’re impatient.”
“I’ve had a long day.”
“So have I,” she replied. “Which is exactly why we should slow this down just a little.”
She stepped back, smoothing her hands down her dress like nothing had just happened, then turned and walked deeper into the room. I followed without thinking, eyes scanning the space automatically.
The bedroom was large, far from small. Clean lines. Soft lighting. A sitting area near the windows. Everything looked carefully chosen, nothing out of place. It didn’t feel like a hotel room. It felt lived in, intentional.
Jane gestured toward a small table near the couch where a bottle and two glasses were already set out.
“Drink first,” she said. “We might as well get comfortable.”
I frowned slightly. “I thought we already were.”
She glanced back at me, eyebrow raised. “You don’t like drinking with me?”
“It’s not that,” I said quickly. “I just… I don’t plan on staying long.”
That was true. Or at least, it felt true in the moment. I had Trisha at home. Drunk, probably asleep by now, but still. I’d told myself this was a quick thing. A mistake, maybe, but a contained one. In and out. No complications.
Jane poured anyway.
“Relax,” she said, handing me a glass. “One drink isn’t going to trap you here.”
She took the glass from my hand before I could lift it and took a sip herself, eyes still on mine. Then she passed it back to me like it was nothing.
I hesitated for half a second, then drank.
“See,” she said. “Easy.”
She sat down on the couch and patted her lap. “Come here.”
I let out a small laugh. “You’re not subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
I sat, and she shifted immediately, turning sideways so she was sitting on my lap instead. Her arm slipped around my shoulders, her weight settling comfortably against me like she’d done this before. Like it was natural.
I rested my hands at her waist. “You’re really committed to the buildup.”
“Anticipation matters,” she said. “Especially with you.”
I looked at her. “With me.”
She nodded. “You rush through things. You always have.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” she said calmly. “You rush at work. You rush decisions. You rush feelings.”
I frowned. “You don’t know that.”
She smiled, tracing the edge of my collar with her finger. “I know more than you think.”
She took another sip from the glass and tipped it toward my mouth. I drank again, more than I meant to this time.
She leaned in, voice dropping. “I’ve had a question for you for a while.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “I saw your post. The engagement.”
“Oh,” I said. “That.”
“Yes,” she said. “That.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I’m engaged.”
She studied my face, like she was looking for something specific. “Does she know you’re here.”
I didn’t hesitate. “No.”
“And that doesn’t bother you.”
I shook my head. “Not right now.”
Her lips curved into a small smile. “So she’s not going to be a problem.”
“Not at all,” I said. “You’re the only thing that matters right now.”
She laughed softly at that, like she found it entertaining rather than romantic.
“You say things very confidently,” she said. “I like that.”
I leaned in to kiss her again, but she tilted her head away just enough to avoid it.
“Drink,” she said instead.
I did.
The alcohol burned more than I expected, and I blinked, adjusting. “What was the question.”
She smiled. “Later.”
She shifted on my lap, one hand resting on my shoulder, the other lightly touching my arm. We sat there like that for a while, drinking slowly, the room quiet except for our voices and the hum of the city outside.
At some point, she stood and tugged me with her.
“Sit back,” she said, pushing me gently onto the bed.
I did, stretching out against the pillows. The mattress was softer than I expected, and I felt myself sink into it slightly.
Jane sat beside me, still holding the glass.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I’m not,” I replied immediately.
She tilted her head. “You just yawned.”
“I’m fine,” I said, laughing it off. “Just a long day.”
“It hasn’t even started yet,” she said, brushing her fingers along my arm.
My head felt heavier than it had a minute ago. Not dizzy exactly, just slow. Like my body was settling before my mind caught up.
“You okay,” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just need a second.”
I tried to sit up, but the motion felt off, my balance lagging behind the intention. I laughed again, a little forced this time.
“Guess that wine hit harder than I thought.”
She smiled, watching me closely. “You don’t drink much, do you.”
“Not really.”
She took the glass from my hand and set it aside. “It’s fine. Just relax.”
I nodded, closing my eyes briefly.
When I opened them, the room felt dimmer somehow, the edges softer. Jane stood, looking down at me.
“You’re already fading,” she said lightly. “That was fast.”
“I’m not sleepy,” I said, though my words came out slower than I intended. “Just… relaxed.”
I tried to sit up again.
The world tilted.
I reached out instinctively, missing the bed by inches, and then I was slipping, sliding off the mattress onto the floor. It didn’t hurt. It just felt distant.
I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my limbs heavy, unresponsive. My thoughts came apart in pieces, drifting instead of forming.
Jane stepped into my line of sight.
She was standing over me now, her expression calm, composed, and something else I couldn’t quite place. She smiled down at me, slow and deliberate.
“Tom,” she said softly.
I tried to answer. I wasn’t sure if anything came out.
Her face blurred slightly as the room dimmed further, my vision tunneling until all I could see was her silhouette against the light.
The last thing I registered before everything went dark was the certainty that I wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
Then there was nothing.