I move to pull away, but a hand on my waist stops me.
Fine. I was only pulling back on his behalf. It was a polite gesture, but since he clearly doesn’t care about being sprayed by a little soda, I give up and kiss him more.
The hand at my neck trails up into my hair and immediately hits one of my remaining metal extension clips. Torn between annoyance and embarrassment, I start to pull back again, but Jack doesn’t want me to. Instead, lips locked on mine, he undoes the clips himself.
He takes one out, gently pulling it from my hair as his lips explore mine, and I have to suppress a groan. The combined bliss of relief from discomfort and Jack’s lips on mine has me feeling things I didn’t come to this party expecting to feel.
This near-stranger is undoing my extensions and me at the same time.
10
SIENA
I turnover in my bed, determined not to let jet lag get the best of me. If I just keep my eyes closed, my body will eventually understand I mean business.
That’s what I’m telling myself.
I grab my phone from under my pillow and open one eye just a sliver. I’m a vampire, and any amount of light could do irreparable damage to the sleep I’m set on getting. I glance at the time through my eye-slit, then drop the phone next to me in utter disbelief. It’s just after midnight, but I’ve been at this since 8:30, and even though my body is sleep-deprived, it’s telling me it needs to be fed. Yelling, really. I forgot how miserable jet lag can be.
A sudden sound nearby makes me freeze.
Holy cheese snips. I can’t tell if it was outside or inside. Was Jack right? If I pull back the curtain, am I going to see Philippe staring at me, a bottle of champagne in hand and a rose between his teeth? I didn’t get creep vibes from him, but maybe I misjudged him.
I toss off the covers, not sure if I should fix my messy sleep braid and straighten my pajamas or run to shake Jack awake for protection. He’s probably a deep sleeper. Does he sleep with his shirt on or off?
Not important right now, Siena. Or ever.
There’s a knock on my door, making my heart rate skyrocket.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Eet eez I, my petit escargot! King Philippe!”
Letting out a sigh of relief, I roll my eyes. I walk over to the other side of the room, flipping on the light and opening the door.
Off.Apparently, Jack sleeps with his shirt off. He’s got a jacket on, but it’s only half-zipped, giving me the teaser I never knew I wanted of his pectorals and the top of his abs. He looks far too chipper for the time of night and amount of sleep we’ve both had in the last two days. “Disappointed?”
“Immensely,” I lie, turning away from the temptation to explore the geometry of the body visible under his jacket. “Why are you knocking on my door at midnight?”
“Because we have a situation.”
I turn around just shy of my bed. What sort of situation could we possibly have when we’ve only been here a matter of hours? “Did you clog the toilet?”
He scrunches his nose. “You think I’d come to you for help unclogging the toilet?”
“I’mveryhelpful in a crisis.”
“Good. Because I’d say we’re at DEFCON 5.”
“You know that’s the lowest DEFCON level, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” he says in a totally unconvincing tone. “Okay, no, I didn’t know that. It sounded cool, though.”
“So, what’s the emergency?” I nod at the phone in his hand. “Forgot how to text?”
“Very funny,” he says dryly. “Just because I don’t use my phone as much as you doesn’t mean I don’t knowhowto use it. In fact, I just sent a text.”
I put up my hands and sit on the bed. “Ireallydon’t need to know about your booty calls, Jack.”
