Page 45 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

Yes.

The way she kissed me said all I had to do was invite her into my room and she would come.

I walked her down the hall to her room. This was the moment when we would have to decide what happened next. Where we either acknowledge what was sizzling between us or retreat back to safer ground.

“Thank you,” she said softly as we stopped in front of her door. “For tonight. For the dancing, the pizza. Everything. It was perfect.”

“It was,” I agreed, though perfect seemed inadequate to describe what I was feeling.

She looked up at me. I could see the same uncertainty in her eyes that was churning in my chest. The same want warring with practical concerns. The same question about what came next.

She pulled her key card from her purse. I found myself holding my breath. Was she going to invite me in? Was I hoping she would? Was I hoping she wouldn’t? If she did, I was not strong enough to walk away. My cock was half-hard just thinking about getting close to her.

“Goodnight, Rhett,” she said, sliding the card into the lock.

“Goodnight, Clem.”

She pushed the door open, and that’s when our evening took another completely unexpected turn.

There, on the bed that should have been empty, were two very naked, very tangled bodies. Bodies that belonged to Conroy and Simone.

For a split second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing. These were the same two people who, less than two hours ago, had been dancing like strangers at a middle school formal. Simone had practically sprinted from the dance floor to escape Conroy’s enthusiastic but clumsy attempts at romance.

Apparently, she hadn’t run very far.

Simone’s shriek of mortification filled the room as she grabbed for bed sheets, her face turning a shade of red that was visible even in the dim lighting. “Close the door! Oh my God, close the door!”

But it was Conroy’s reaction that really got me. The man had the audacity to look up from where he was sprawled across the bed and give me a cheerful thumbs-up with his good hand. He looked like he had just scored the winning touchdown instead of being caught in a highly compromising position.

“Rhett!” he called out, completely unbothered by his state of undress. “Bad time for company.”

Clementine slammed the door shut with a startled yelp. We both stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door like it might open again and reveal that what we had just seen was some kind of hallucination.

The silence stretched for about three seconds before Clementine started laughing.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, one hand pressed to her chest like she was trying to catch her breath. “Oh my God, did that really just happen?”

I was still trying to process the scene. “I thought she was running away from him.”

“She was! Did you see her on that dance floor? She looked like she thought he was contagious!”

“And now she’s…” I gestured vaguely at the door.

“In bed! With Conroy!” Clementine doubled over with laughter. “How did that even happen? What did he say to her? What did he do?”

I shook my head, completely baffled. “Maybe he’s better at conversation than he is at dancing?”

“He’d have to be. A brick wall would be better at dancing than Conroy.”

We stood there in the hallway, both of us shaking with laughter at the absurdity of it all. After watching their disaster on the dance floor, the last thing either of us had expected was to find them tangled up together in her bed.

“Poor Simone,” Clementine said, though she was still giggling. “She’s going to be mortified tomorrow.”

“Poor us. Conroy is going to be walking around with that smug grin for the rest of the tour.”

“God, you’re right. He’s never going to let us forget that we witnessed his moment of triumph.”

The laughter was exactly what we needed to break the tension that had been building all evening. It reminded me why I had been drawn to Clementine in the first place. She wasn’t just a hot piece of ass. We vibed on more than one level.

But as our laughter died down, I became acutely aware of our situation. We were standing in a hotel hallway in the middle of the night, and Clementine no longer had access to her room. At least not until whatever was happening behind that door reached its natural conclusion. Or she decided she was cool with voyeurism.

And I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

It was too late to try and get her a room.

And that left one option.