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Patience shakes her head. "No. I think everything is booked out."
Ava gives me a worried look. "Should we go somewhere else?"
"You can try," Patience interjects. "But I think everywhere is pretty much booked out too. The birdwatchers are in town, see?"
Ah. That explains it.
I nearly smile, amused at the turn of events. It seems that fate is determined to test my limits. Isn’t it ironic that just when I resolve to be a good guy and leave Ava alone, life throws me this curve ball.
I mean, it’s just one night. But I’m not entirely sure we’ll get out of this unscathed.
"We don't have a choice," I shrug. "We'll share a room."
Ava hesitates and her expression is like I just suggested she enter a torture chamber for a few minutes.
And then she nods.
Chapter Seventeen
Ava
It’sjustonenight.
I walk around the rustic hotel room, eyeing the pink decor and roses dusted over the heart-shaped bed. Patience from the front desk neglected to mention that this is also a honeymoon suite. There’s even a romantic view of a pond outside that sparkles in the sunset.
And it’s like the whole atmosphere throbs with a tension I can’t explain.
Or rather, I can explain it. I would just rather not acknowledge it.
I’m too busy battling with myself.
It’s just one night.I tell myself.One single night.Eight hours maybe. And then in the morning we head out and get back on the road. You can do this.
Eight hours sleeping on the same bed with him, with his body a few feet away from me.
Eight hours listening to him breathe, smelling that masculine scent that makes my toes tingle.
Eight hours trying not to think about all the other things we could be doing.
But I can do it. I’ve been doing well so far, staying away from all that. Outside of some flirting, there really isn’t anything going on between Maddox and me.
So, this should be a breeze. I change into my pajamas get in bed and wait for the moment of truth.
The bathroom door opening has my heart catching in my chest. And then it drops into my stomach beating at double when I see him.
He’s not wearing a shirt.
He’s wearing pajama bottoms but they mold over his muscular thighs, so filthily that he might as well not be wearing anything. I can see the prominent bulge between his thighs and it takes me back to dirtier thoughts. I swallow. He's freshly showered, with beads of water still trailing down his chiseled chest, which looks like something the Greeks would carve back in the day. He carelessly rubs his hair as he walks in, his eyes scanning the room in that ever-watchful way of his. And then his eyes meet mine.
He smirks like he can tell everything I’m thinking. I tear my gaze away.
“You look comfy,” he comments eyeing the blanket that I’ve buried myself under. Plus the pillow fort that I’ve built between us.
I point to it now. “That’s your side.”
“I see that.” His shoulders flex as he extends his hand to plop the towel on the couch, his pants shifting lower.
I try my best not to look, I really do. I ignore the rush of lust in my body, making me heated and sweaty. Then I pin him with my best mom look. “Aren’t you going to put on a shirt?”
