AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After a few minutes, she breaks away, snuggling into me. I reach over and click off the light, pull the duvet over our bodies, and together we drift off to sleep.
* * *
Knock,knock, knock.
I crack one eye open and peer around. The room’s dark, Madison’s naked body splayed across mine—one arm flung over my chest, a leg draped over my thighs. I’m essentially trapped, caged by a beautiful woman.
Things could certainly be worse.
Knock, knock, knock.
Okay, I’m not imagining things. There’s an insistent rapping, getting louder by the second, and it seems to be coming from the other room.
Right.
The door to the suite’s in the other room.
“Argh, what’s that noise? What time is it?” Madison’s warm breath feathers over my chest.
I check my watch. “Seven a.m.”
“Rude. Who pounds on a hotel room door this early in the morning?” she grumbles, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“No idea.” I untangle myself from her body and the sheets, rolling out of bed. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is. You keep sleeping.”
Throwing on my boxers, I move to the door, fully prepared to tell whomever it is to go the hell away.
“Madison! Open up, it’s me.”
A deep voice—a man for sure—and it’s vaguely familiar.
I crack the door open and peer out.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
It’s her asshole ex, Bentley, and he’s still wearing his tuxedo from the wedding. The pungent smell of alcohol wafts through the small opening and I have half a mind to slam the door in his face.
“What the—where’s Madison?” Bentley growls, his bloodshot eyes locking on mine.
“What do you want? It’s seven a.m.”
“I want to talk to Madison.” His voice is deep and menacing, more like a warning than a request.
“She’s asleep.”
“Bullshit. Let me in, caddy—” Bentley shoves hard against the door, catching me off-guard, and forces his way into the suite.
“Dude, you can’t just barge in here?—”
“The fuck I can’t. Where is she?” His head swivels from side-to-side, eyes wide and wild as he scours the space for Madison.
Squaring up my shoulders, I grip Bentley’s arm, preventing him from entering the bedroom.
“I said you can’t go in there, man.”
Bentley takes a swing at me, but misses, stumbling and falling off-balance. He grabs the edge of the couch, righting himself. With a heavy inhale, he spins around and takes another swing, not even skimming my shoulder.
Honestly, it’s comical. He’s clearly drunk or hungover, barely managing to stay upright and missing me by a mile.
