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His hand found the small of my back. “Well then, ma’am, since you aren’t very helpful, I’ll take care of this,” he said to the receptionist, steering me and my carry-on away from the desk.

I bit my lip, vanilla coating my tongue.

There was something very hot about him stepping in like that. Too bad I was pretty sure he’d made the situation worse.

“Well, the chivalry was nice,” I said in a low voice as he guided us who knew where. “But how the hell are you going to get a room here? You have a contact number for the Four Seasons CEO?”

His eyes slid over to me as he pressed the brass call button for the elevator. “Nope. Don’t have his number.” He pushed me inside, but didn’t bother stepping away. “But we don’t need a room.”

“Did you not listen to anything I said down there? They don’t have me booked here, so yes, I need a room.”

“Always so damn mouthy.” Those blue eyes slid to me, and I shivered at the heat in them. “You’re staying in my room, Trouble.”

TWENTY-THREE

MONROE

SHE WANTS YOU TO FEED HER ALL RIGHT. FEED HER THAT DICK.

I hadn’t shared a room with anyone besides Goldie since I was a player. A perk of being the head coach was that I always had a room to myself.

But even back in the day, it wasn’t sharing one king-sized bed.

To be fair, the four-poster looked comfy as hell, with the cloud-like comforter and absurd amount of pillows. Pillows that were currently piled high, splitting the middle.

“There.” Gracie patted the top of pillow number six. “Now we can both sleep in peace and not touch each other.”

She’d gone on a full-blown rant when we first made it in, most of which I didn’t understand since it was in Spanish, but “pinche pendejo” was thrown around about as many times as her hands were—so, a lot.

“I can’t believe you knew there was only one bed.”

“As I’ve said for the hundredth time since you threatened my life, I thought there’d be a pullout.”

“Ah, yes.” I wasn’t sure if she was glaring at me or the chair I was parked in that ideally would have been a sleeper sofa. “Because relying on a pullout has always worked so well.”

Coffee lodged itself in my throat, and I choked. I fought for my life not to shower the carpet with it.

“What would it’ve changed?” I asked between coughs, refusing to address the pullout part. “You’re in here because there are no more rooms available. Plus, it looks like you’ve solved our problem with your fort.” I motioned to the monstrosity. “Which, by the way, what are we supposed to put our heads on? And who gets the comforter? Do we split that through the night?”

Her eyes narrowed with every word.

I shouldn’t taunt her. To say she was a little high-strung at the moment would be an understatement. Not two minutes earlier, she’d covered her face with a pillow and screamed. Then followed it up by looking me dead in the eyes, head cocked to the side in a creepy horror movie tilt, and said, “It’s fine. I’ll just smother you in your sleep.”

When I asked her if she was joking, she’d winked and disappeared into the bathroom.

Knowing all that did nothing to stop my mouth from moving. It was like I was addicted to every withering glare and retort she threw my way.

“We’re not sharing the blanket, Monroe. I’ll turn the heat up so you don’t get cold.” The lacy trim of her bra peeked out over the top of her tank top, thanks to her crossed arms acting as a makeshift shelf.

“Fine. I’ll take my clothes off,” I said with a shrug, loving how her lips parted, her brown eyes widening.

“That’s so not appropriate.”

I tucked my hands behind my head, stretching my legs out in front of me like I didn’t have a damn care in the world, when really my heart was beating like a racehorse over the thought of sleeping in the same bed as her in a few short hours. “Since when have you given a damn about being appropriate or not?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth twisted up, waiting for the green light to unleash whatever ridiculous comeback she’d worked out.

And that sick part of me craved her lashing, so I drawled, “Will feedin’ you help with this attitude problem?”