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Poor Saint Nick.
He was about to have a rough night.
He pulled the cushions off the couch one at a time, the confusion written on his face morphing into dread. “It’s not a bed.”
I moved the bag to the hook on the inside of the bathroom door and glanced at him over my shoulder. “The bed is right there.”
“There’s only one.”
“Look at you, you can count.”
“I’m not sharing the bed with you.”
Nick feeding me was far more intimate than sleeping next to me, but whatever. I grasped the zipper. “Fine, take the couch.”
“It’s scratchy.”
I blew out a breath that came out as a half sigh, half laugh. “So be a grown-up and just sleep on the damn bed, Nick.”
“With you?”
“It’s a king size. I think we can manage. Why, think you can’t resist me?” Okay, what I was about to do was rather cruel considering his current crisis, but I’d ask forgiveness later.
Actually, I would rather go down in flames.
I dragged the zipper in one long pull around all three sides and let it fall open, my stare on him the whole time.
Mr. Composed, I’m totally going to rock your russet world disappeared right before my eyes. Saint Nick, the one who was definitely, probably not so fun at parties, appeared complete with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.
Over six feet of rock-hard athletic body, forearms for days, and scruff covering that square jaw so bloody sexy it made clits ache with a single glance stood there, absolutely speechless.
He raised a finger and tilted his head as though he planned to say something, but then his mouth snapped shut.
A muscle ticked in his cheek.
His ass landed on the couch with a thud.
He interlaced his fingers and settled his steepled fingers against his lips while sliding me a sidelong glance.
Some people traveled with twice as many clothes as they need. Some with an array of makeup cases equipped with colors for any event.
Me… I brought a self-love arsenal that would make a repressed mama’s boy’s ass pucker with just one glimpse. “Don’t be scared, Saint Nick. They’re for me, not you.”
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “All of them? How many holes you got?”
I laughed. “Some are more accommodating than others. Capable of taking on multiples. The female body is rather amazing like that.” I rolled my lips over my teeth to stifle my laugh at the strangled sound coming from the man behind me.
“I’m not getting in that bed with you,” he said with a hint of censure in his tone.
“Suit yourself.”
I grabbed my pajamas and ducked into the bathroom. The fan muffled my giggle while I dragged my jeans down my thighs. I’d bet I’d find him in the same spot when I finished.
Good. I would not be off-balance by myself. Especially since this sharing-a-room thing totally killed my weekend plans to diddle my skittle.
I dragged a brush through my hair and threw it up in a messy knot on my head before I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tossed my contacts.
A few minutes later and feeling more like me than I had since I arrived, I found Nick leaning back on the couch, a bottle of tequila tipped to his mouth. His gaze locked on the garment back rocking back and forth against the door from the force of me whipping the door open.
