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I can finally hear over the blood pounding in my ears, but a moment later, Raleigh shifts out from under me, sitting up. I’d hoped my foray into one-night stands meant I’d get a whole night.
Raleigh’s not trying to get away, though. He’s looking around the room.
“Where’s West?” he asks. That gets me paying attention. We stumble around the suite, yanking shirts over our heads and calling quietly for West, mindful that while this might be a beach vacation, it’s after midnight and we’re not the only guests in the building.
“He’s gone.” Raleigh looks puzzled, but I know exactly what happened.
“That chickenshit son of a bitch,” I mutter. Raleigh’s eyes widen. “Sorry.”
“Not at all,” he says, shaking his head. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Should we go after him?” I ask. Raleigh shrugs.
“Your call,” he says softly. “He brought us here to make sure you were safe. Stayed to make sure you were safe.”
“Well, he left,” I say, cross until I realize what Raleigh is getting at. “Oh.”
Raleigh gives me that cockeyed half-grin again. “I guess that means he thinks you’re safe with me.”
“I guess it does,” I say. How can anybody be that expressive, that open? He doesn’t hide a single thing he’s thinking.
“Callie,” he says. “Do you want me to go? This is his room, after all. I don’t know what’s going on between you two—”
“Nothing,” I say firmly. “Nothing is going on between West and me. You, on the other hand,” I say, snagging a finger in the hem of his shirt. Raleigh grins, wider this time. “What do you say we try that without an audience this time?”
“I say, you have my undivided attention,” he says, walking me back toward the bed.
West never returns to the room.
Considering we had what might have started out as the weirdest one-night stand in history, Raleigh and I more than made up for it. I make myself at home in West’s suite—he obviously doesn’t intend to—and sneak in for a shower, trying not to wake Raleigh up. My thigh muscles are protesting, plus a few muscles I didn’t know I still had. The reminder is delightful and I catch myself smirking at myself in the mirror. A quick check of my phone reminds me that the day is getting away already. I’m not expected downstairs until this afternoon, but probably better to get back to my own room before any of last night’s wilder partygoers start to wake up.
The faintest red mark on the side of my neck catches my eye and I blush, remembering how I stood there, naked as a newborn, in front of Raleigh. And West.
A fling with Raleigh is one thing. I’m going to have to see West Thorpe here and there for the rest of my life. Horror and humiliation rise up, threatening to pull me under, and I shut my eyes, bracing myself over the sink.
What is he thinking? What the hell am I thinking? Like we could just flirt with crossing that line and everything would be okay? Good Lord. If Finn found out—
He won’t. He can’t. Nothing happened.
The image of West casually tossing Raleigh onto the bed as I stand there and watch flashes through my mind. West commanding Raleigh’s every move as he touched me. West controlling Raleigh’s throbbing heat between my thighs.
My skin prickles at the memory.
That wasn’t nothing. Oh, God.
A soft knock on the bathroom door startles me out of my daze. I wrap the hotel robe around me tightly and pull the door open, steam swirling around my legs to escape into the room.
“Breakfast,” says Raleigh.
He’s grinning and wearing his jeans and no shirt and looks sexy and bright and far too energetic considering how little we’ve slept. He takes my hand and leads me over to the balcony doors. I didn’t get much time to appreciate it last night, but the view is spectacular, especially so early in the day. The Outer Banks are famous for their spectacular sunrises, and though we’re catching the end of it, today is no different. Pink and gold and gray streak across the sky, the tip of the sun still kissing the horizon. The table has been set with more dishes than I can count, among them, thank goodness, a pot that promises coffee is near.
“What’s all this?” I ask. Floundering here. “I mean, obviously, this is food. Breakfast. Thank you.” And now I’m stammering. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” says Raleigh smoothly. He bends to kiss me softly on the cheek. “It’s a good morning, I guess. And an ‘I’d like to see you again.’ And a thank you, for sure.” His face is heating, a quieter flush than we saw last night.
We. There I go again. Raleigh and West are going to be in my head forever now, inextricably linked by last night.
“I should be the one thanking you,” I say, blinking those thoughts away. Raleigh is here now; by God, I’m going to enjoy it. I gesture at the table. “I mean it. Why should you be thanking me?” He nods at the table and we sit. Raleigh clears his throat, then clears it again.
