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Her face was clean and her hair was damp, shiny, and trailing over her shoulder. She was wearing the fitted T-shirt and yoga pants. Maybe the fact that the clothes were very, very tight was the reason his pulse skyrocketed and his palms started to sweat.
“Bathroom’s all yours,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze as if embarrassed by her body-hugging clothes. How did he tell her they were perfect on her?
“Thanks.” Chandler strode toward her and couldn’t resist brushing her arm with his and getting closer than he needed to.
She sucked in a breath and blinked up at him. She smelled clean and fresh. He loved how petite and feminine she was. His brother Thor had always thought she looked like Jennifer Lopez. Chandler could see the similarities, but he thought she was even more beautiful.
He leaned toward her, tempted like he had never been to steal a kiss without even properly dating her, and alone in a hotel room where the temptation to do more than kiss might prove his undoing. That went against what he’d been taught and the self-control he’d exercised with women his entire adult life.
Steeling himself, Chandler said a prayer for strength, nodded to her, and hurried into the bathroom. He’d already showered after the lacrosse game, so he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into the simple cotton shorts they’d brought up. He eyed himself in the mirror, thinking he should probably put the T-shirt back on, but he’d never slept in anything besides underwear, so he figured the shorts were at least more modest than that. He’d never slept in the same hotel room as an unrelated female either, so there was that.
He walked out of the bathroom and stopped as he looked at the bed and Kylee’s head peeking out of one side of it. She’d piled the many decorative pillows down the middle of the bed to form a barrier. Chandler laughed and asked, “To keep me on my side?”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him an adorable grin. “I didn’t want you to claim you needed to sleep on the couch.”
He prowled toward her side of the bed even though he knew he shouldn’t. “What makes you think I’d sleep on the couch?”
Her eyes widened and trailed over his chest. “Without the pillow barrier, either you’re on the couch or I am, and I know what gentlemen you Delta boys are.”
The reminder of being a Delta was one he needed, badly. “Good point.”
Chandler pushed a hand through his hair and walked around the bed. Kneeling down, he said a prayer of gratitude for his and Kylee’s protection and for heaven bringing her into his life again. He wondered if there was any chance of reconnecting like he’d hoped when he first saw her, but the danger surrounding them and the Delta secret were huge. He needed to push his selfish desires away.
Standing, Chandler looked over the pillow barrier at her small form in the bed, her dark hair and gorgeous tanned skin a beautiful contrast to the white bedding. She was turned away from him and her eyes were closed, but it was obvious by how quick she was breathing that she wasn’t asleep and was feeling the tension in this room as surely as he was.
Was there really any harm in a goodnight kiss? The very thought of that had his body warming up and made him pant for air. If he walked around the bed, bent over, and simply gave her a pure but lingering kiss, would she slap him?
She probably should.
Instead of giving into his desires, he slid into the soft, cotton sheets. She let out the sweetest little gasp of air.
“You all right?” he asked.
“This is hard,” she said quietly.
He rolled over and removed the two pillows blocking her face from his view. “Resisting all my charm is hard?”
She rolled over, took one of the pillows, and hit him in the face with it.
Chandler was very tempted to start a pillow fight but knew it wasn’t smart. Instead, he laughed. “I guess I found a sensitive button.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said primly. “Though I appreciate you rescuing me and think you are a great guy, and an even more impressive athlete, I am not one of your arm candy, post-pictures-of-us-all-over-social-media type of girls. I’m terribly sorry that I’ve upset your life and your …” She paused, and Chandler wanted to tell her he was thrilled she showed up and he wasn’t some display arm-candy girls type of guy, but she went on, “I’m sorry I’ve messed up your regular dating patterns, but I can’t be some fill-in. Please, can you just … not treat me like your latest fling?”
“Oh,” was his very articulate response. There was so much he wanted—needed—to say to all of that. How to get her to understand that women asked for pictures with him all the time and then they posted those pictures? He never wanted to be the jerk who told someone he wouldn’t take a picture with them, but where the women posted and what they said was out of his control. Unless he wanted to make himself insane searching his own name online and correcting every fake claim.
She hit the button for the bedside lamps on the wall by the side of the bed and plunged the room into darkness. Now all he could hear was her breathing, which was still too fast and told him no matter how unhappy she seemed with him, she was affected by him. He wanted to say something, anything, but the moment had passed and he’d messed it all up.
Finally, he started with, “Kylee, you don’t need to be jealous of the women who post pictures of me.”
“Pas du tout!” Her exclamation of outrage filled the quiet room. “I am not jealous. You and I have no relationship, so who you date and what type of woman you like is no concern of mine.”
Chandler thought it was a huge concern. Was she really not jealous? How could she say they had no relationship? Actually, from her perspective, she’d written him off at sixteen and that was that. She’d only come to him now because she was in a dark and desperate situation. Dang. He wished he knew how to say ‘dang’ in a different language.
“Once again, thank you for upsetting your life for me and protecting me. I appreciate your kindness. Goodnight.”
He heard her roll over and could feel the angst radiating off of her. She was ticked at him but trying to show her appreciation at the same time. Chandler thought of himself as pretty laidback. He’d gotten into a few fights throughout the years and spent countless minutes in the penalty box, but he wasn’t an out of control or contentious person. Right now, he felt himself getting more and more frustrated. She was the one who’d dumped him all those years ago because she was dating someone else, a boyfriend she’d conveniently forgotten while they were stealing kisses in the forest back home. Now she was upset at him because women posted pictures of him or because he dated like any adult male would? It was unfair, and it ticked him off.
He tried to put himself in her shoes. She was tired and probably irrational right now. Maybe in the morning they could talk reasonably about this. Maybe he could find out why she’d not only kissed him but connected so deeply with him as teenagers when she’d had a boyfriend back home. Maybe he was tired and irrational as well. Actually, that one was more than a maybe.
