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He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at my soaked body as if in a trance. A breeze drifts over me, sending a shiver down my spine. “Brandon,” I clip out. “My room is flooding.”
“Sorry.” He blinks once before moving aside quickly, ushering me into his room. Even in my frantic state, I’m immediately hit by the stark contrast between his bungalow and mine. This one is big and luxurious with a fully equipped kitchenette and stainless-steel appliances. I let out an almost hysterical laugh. “Well, I see why they don’t rent out bungalow twenty-seven.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a shack. Hence this.” I gesture at my clothes. “We need to hurry. The room is flooding as we speak. Can you call the front desk?”
He nods before walking to the bedside table, that troubled expression never leaving his face. He feels guilty, I know, and even ten minutes ago, I would probably want to soothe him for it.
Maybe I will later, but not now. Not while I’m soaking wet and cold because of him.
A smile rises to my lips as I roll my suitcase into his bathroom. I was too frantic to appreciate that look on his face when he first opened the door, but when I’m dry, I’ll be able to drink in the memory.
Hypnotized. That’s how I would have described it.
Brandon
My pulse quickens as the phone rings. I can still see the way her clothes clung to her, outlining her every curve. The image burns in my mind.
It’s all my fault. I deserve this punishment.
I acted selfishly, putting her in that clearly unlivable room. What if it was worse than a busted pipe? What if the whole damn thing had caved in on her?
Icy-cold recrimination washes over me. It’s all my fault, and this is what I get. I glance over at the bathroom where shadows play at the bottom of the door. She’s undressing in there, shedding the clothes that were practically painted on her body.
She might be naked at this very moment.
Don’t think about all that pretty skin. Don’t think about the water dripping down it.
The front desk finally picks up after probably the fifteenth ring. I explain the situation briefly, my words stumbling over one another. I can’t keep my gaze from sliding back to the bathroom door. An odd sense of anticipation tingles over my skin.
“I’m sorry,” the office staff says after a pause. “But we’re fully booked. We don’t have any other rooms available.”
“What about the room next to mine? It was vacant just this afternoon.”
“I’m so sorry, but it’s no longer available.”
Dizziness descends over me, making me sway forward.
God, no.
Deliver me from this. Keep me from sinning.
I beg you.
Mariana will have to stay here. In my room. My blood runs hot and cold at the same time, my heart pounding against my chest.
As I slam down the phone, Mariana walks out of the bathroom. She’s wearing a large, baggy T-shirt, and a fist clenches around my gut. This is what she looks like in her bed at night. If I were sleeping with her, I could slip my hands under that big shirt and kiss her from her naval to that beautiful pink…
No.
This isn’t even a fantasy anymore. She’s here. She’s real. My beautiful Mariana. Sinning now feels as inevitable as the moment David ordered Bathsheba be brought into his chamber.
God, please help me.
Of all the women in the world, why does it have to be her I crave so intensely? I don’t want calamity in my life if I sin with her again. I don’t want to lose the family I’ve come to need as if it were my own.
“You’ll have to stay here.” My voice is hushed and husky, and Mariana’s eyes widen. Fuck, I didn’t mean to use that bedroom voice.
