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I growl, one of my hands rubbing my face from forehead to chin.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out!” I shout.
Again, nothing.
I tighten my towel around my hips and walk up to her, trying not to lose my cool any more than I have to. I’m bone-tired, but I shouldn’t scream at people.
Maybe she’s wearing earphones with black metal blasting through them or something?
I huff, rolling my eyes. “I’m standing in a towel here. Can you just stop whatever you’re doing and get out?”
By now, I’m so close to the woman that I can see her profile. Her long, wavy, dark brown hair is tied back in a low ponytail. There seems to be a frown of concentration on her brow, and there are no earphones anywhere in sight.
I should be able to see them if there were any. Even those teeny tiny models peep out from the shell of the ear a bit.
“Hey, come on! Are you deaf or something?”
Suddenly, I see her shoulders jump, and she turns. I can see from her reaction that she mustn’t have heard me walk up to her at all. One of her small hands is plastered to her heart.
Fuck, she’s tiny, and she’s looking up at me with large, dark, scared eyes.
I take a step back, the head of steam I’ve been working on since I spotted her in the suite evaporating fast.
CHAPTER3
Mia
Isee a shadow on the floor and turn around only to almost jump out of my skin, I’m so startled.
There’s a very large, very wet, very angry-looking man inches away from me.
God, he looks so pissed. And he’s wearing nothing but a towel.
He’s saying something to me. Scolding me, I think?
I can't make out what he says, I can't read lips when I'm nervous or scared, plus his long dark beard is wet and in the way, same for his brown hair, heavy with water and partially covering his eyebrows. Even with most of his features obscured, I don’t need to tap into the knowledge I’ve amassed over the years studying psychology and body language to see this guy is super mad at me.
He is glowering down at me.
I gulp, one hand pressed to my hammering heart.
I was so focused on the stupid little water stain on the glass that I didn’t notice his approaching form until his huge shadow fell on me.
He is standing far too close.
Damn, he is bigger than my brother. Or taller, at least. He must be standing at 6’5’’ at least.
My eyes sweep up and down his frame as I try to assess if he's merely annoyed that I'm in his suite or if I'm in some type of danger.
I see slabs of wet muscles covered in a million tattoos. I gulp.
God, he’s enormous.
I see aqua-green eyes, bloodshot and confused. Tired then. Full lips curled. Pissed off too. Large hands are gripping the too-tiny white towel hanging low around his carved hips, inked wrists pushing it closer to his body.
Not dangerous. I think. I hope. I'm not sure.
I take a step back. He does the same. His stance relaxing slightly.
