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"Fuck," I curse through clenched teeth.
He clears his throat. "Excuse me, ma'am?"
“Can I just book another room?” I ask instead of repeating my curse.
His apologetic smile tells me his answer before he speaks. “Every room is booked.”
Of course, because Law booked the entire resort for the wedding, for both privacy and comfort of the guests. But I get the feeling that telling the still smiling man before me that I actually made those arrangements won’t help me any.
I take a deep breath before saying, "Thanks. Have a good night."
But then the curses are flowing from my lips again as I walk back to the elevator. I even punch the wall, knowing whoever is watching the camera is probably thinking I've lost my mind. When I reach the twelfth floor and get closer to my room, I seriously ask myself if sleeping in the hallway would be so bad. But my aching feet, quickly growing headache, and want for a bed have me turning to face away from my door to look at theirs.
I have to inhale and release a deep breath before raising my hand. Curling my fingers into a fist, I knock twice.
Chapter 2
"Well, if it isn't Princess Lexa."
Jeremiah stands in the open door, his suit gone, replaced with black sweatpants sitting low on his hips. No shirt in sight. And I should know with the way I'm finding it hard to look anywhere other than his chest. At that tattoo I am finally seeing on his chest. I've only ever seen the top of it, but could never make out the jagged lines, different lengths and angles. Now, I can see that it's puzzle pieces, three of them, fitting together just right. On the left is his name, on the right Ezekiel's. The middle piece has no name at all, but its meaning is very clear.
Don't even think about it,I chide myself.
I close my eyes and give my head a shake to remind myself I am not here to stare at his muscles, or tattoos. And definitely not here to let my mind make up situations it has no business even thinking of. I look back at his face, find his signature smirk there as his own eyes go up and down my body.
I was nervous to knock on their door, even knowing it was my only option at this point. But standing here now, in front of a shirtless Jeremiah, knowing Ezekiel is somewhere inside of the room, I find it hard to even breathe, let alone think straight.
"To what do I owe the honor?" he asks.
My mouth opens, and it feels like the words just all come tumbling out.
"I lost my room card. My phone is dead. I went to the lobby, and they won't give me a new card, and there's no other rooms available. My feet are aching, and these damn pins in my hair are giving me a killer headache."
His eyebrows raise at my rambling, and I can see he's fighting not to laugh at me.
"Well, do you wanna come in?" He waves his welcome. "I mean, I really do feel like you're only here because you have no other choice, but if it gets you in the room, I think I'm okay with that."
His words take some of the tension, and awkwardness, away from the moment, and for once, I'm thankful for it. But then I look past him, into the room, and my nerves return right away. I've done all I could not to be alone with them for months, and now here I am, about to walk into the lion's den, because that is exactly what this feels like. Like once I go in, nothing will ever be the same.
Jeremiah moves aside more, motioning me in. "You coming?"
I am not even letting my mind go where his words try to take it. Instead, I swallow and walk past him. The room smells just like them, because they always freaking smell alike. Like vanilla musk, manly and so damn enticing. I've had to stop myself from leaning in and inhaling their scent a few times, just like I do right now.
"Where's Ezekiel?" I ask as I sit on the couch in between their bedrooms.
"In the shower. He'll probably be out in a minute."
I look around their room. It's almost identical to mine, except a different color scheme. They're actually using the second bedroom, whereas mine had just been my makeshift office.
"I hope I'm not—what are you doing?" I exclaim at the feeling of his hand on my calf.
I look at him in alarm, but he just smiles. "You said your feet were hurting. I'm taking your shoes off."
"Well…I—" He arches a brow as his hand slides down to my foot.
When I don't say anything else, he takes my shoe off. It hits the floor with a soft thud, and I cannot hold back the moan that escapes me. It feels that good to have the shoe off. He licks his lips at the sound, and I look away. I can't be noticing things like this while I'm in this room. Far too dangerous. He removes the other shoe and I expect him to stand, move away, but he stays there, on one knee before me.
"Yes?" I ask.
