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“Motherfucker,” I grumble before tossing my phone on the dresser. Flustered, I run a hand through my hair. Time for damage control. “Sorry, Opal. The guys are dicks sometimes.”
Opal’s eyes are glued to the sex toys on the bed. Apprehension radiates from her like static in the air. She chews on her bottom lip to the point it looks like she might bite through the delicate flesh.
“Hey,” I whisper, taking her face in my hands. Am I overstepping? Should I not touch her like this? She seems to not mind, and frankly, I don’t think I could stop myself from touching her if I tried. “Don’t worry about those. I’ll get rid of them. Do you want to take a shower?”
Opal’s eyes go wide with alarm. “With you?” she yelps.
Unable to hold back, I crack up. Her nerves are too cute. “No, Gorgeous. As much as I would love to see your sudsy body, you need some time to decompress. A hot shower will help.”
Disappointment crosses her face before she schools her features. “A shower sounds wonderful,” she admits. “This body glitter is irritating my skin.”
“Go get cleaned up. I’ll take care of the, um, stuff.”
Opal locks herself away in the bathroom while I gather the ridiculous assortment of sex toys, dumping everything in the corner. It’s a shame to not use them…
Hmm. Nothing is stopping me from using them on someone else. Someone who deserves a good ass whooping.
Grabbing the jumping bat, I hightail it out of the suite. I have a favor to repay.
With my adrenaline pumping, I knock on the solar system suite, stepping out of sight of the peephole. The door opens. I fly into the room wielding the bat like a baton. Punk screams like a little kid as I tackle him on the flying saucer-shaped bed, beating his sorry ass with the sex toy. Chase busts a gut from the other bed designed like a spaceship.
Such children.
When I feel like I’ve pummeled Punk enough, I go after Chase. I get a couple of good whacks in before he whines, “What the fuck did I do, man?”
“I know you hacked the security lock, you dickhead. Atlas sure as shit wouldn’t have given you the key. How else would Punk have snuck into the room?”
Chase groans, scowling at his best friend. “I told you he’d figure it out.”
Still sprawled out and nursing his wounds, Punk hasn’t moved from the bed. I grab his boxer briefs and yank upward.
“OW!What the fuck, bro?!” Punk hollers, grabbing his ass cheeks.
I toss the jumping bat, beaning him in the head. “The beating is for upsetting my woman when she’s already dealt with enough bullshit. The wedgie was for opening the door when you couldn’t see who was on the other side. Security 101. Don’t do it again.” I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.
Punk is an idiot of the highest caliber. If he’s going to pull a prank, then he should have thought to stay in a different room than the one he and Chase typically squat in. I always find my target.
Back in the ridiculous honeymoon suite, I shake the comforter free of the rose petals. For a moment, I debate removing the champagne, but then figure what the hell. Maybe a little alcohol will help us unwind. I pop the cork, pouring the bubbly into the glasses.
Hold up.
A thought slams into me like a wrecking ball. Is she even old enough to drink?
Fuck.I checked into a hotel with a woman, but I don’t even know her age.
Opal was stripping at a Utah club that serves alcohol, meaning the dancers should be twenty-one, minimum. She looks legal—young, but legal.
But that club was sketchy as fuck.
As soon as she comes out of the bathroom, I’m going to ask her age.
Would I care if she isn’t twenty-one? No. But I sure as fuck care if she’s a minor. I have no desire to do prison time. Hell, I don’t care if I’m a whole decade older than her, so long as she’s consenting age.
With the room back to normal—or as normal as this place can be—I kick off my boots, drape my MC leather cut over the back of a chair, and remove my belt and gun. I sit on the end of the bed, nursing my second glass of cheap champagne to combat my anxiety, praying the woman who I’ve already claimed in my head is fucking old enough to be alone with me.
Opal emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and glitter-free.
Lord almighty!
