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“What’s the catch?” Beckett cuts to the chase.
Astrid frowns her confusion.
“You’re hiding something. What exactly is the Familienhöhle?”
“We are talking about two rooms—”
“We’ll take them!” Beckett says.
“I must warn you, sir, the Familienhöhle only offers partial privacy and not everyone adjusts to the ceiling slant.”
That was German to me.
“Is that all you have left other than the nuptial suite?” Beckett asks.
“Yes.”
“Then we don’t have any other choice, Astrid,” Beckett puts an end to the most awkward check-in of my life.
“Hey, roomie,” Beckett says.
“Hey, you.”
Neither of us moves, our eyes fixed on one another from across the Jack and Jill bathroom.
Beckett and I are sharing a large space split into two by a very large enclosed connecting bathroom. The Familienhöhle, located in the attic of the inn, is top choice amongst parents traveling with teenagers, hence the partial privacy Astrid alluded to. The slanted roof may be whimsical and picturesque from the outside, but walking around hunched over isn’t all that charming.
I don’t know how the tall, gorgeous man standing across from me will manage.
Unable to contain myself, my gaze wanders down Beckett’s sculpted torso without an ounce of shame until it rests on the white towel wrapped around his waist. It’s set low enough to offer a peek of his lip-smacking V.
Even his feet are sexy.
Beckett’s half naked body is on full, carnal display. My pussy muscles clench in appreciation.
Every part of me yearns.
When I lift my gaze to his again, his lips pull up into a knowing smile, before he returns the favor. He traces his eyes up and down the length of my body, his gaze so searing, it’s as real as a caress against my skin—softly trailing down my neck, over my chest, down my stomach, my legs and up again until he stops right between my thighs.
I bite off a moan.
Just like him, a white towel wrapped around my chest acts as a shield.
“Figures we’d meet here,” he says.
“Seems like we have a thing for bathrooms.”
We laugh.
“How’s your side of the Familienhöhle?” I ask.
“A bit small, but it’ll do. What about you?”
“Same,” I tell him.
Beckett pushes off the doorframe he’s leaning against and crosses the bathroom in a few short steps.
The sexual tension between us is palpable.
