I knocked harder, worried I’d wake up half the guests on the floor but not caring. “I know you’re in there.”
The door knob clicked and slowly opened, granting entrance to the room as a body fumbled its way back to the bed. She slid onto the mattress and tossed the covers over top of herself but not before giving me a view of her bare legs. The thoughts running through my head were wrong, so very wrong. I shouldn’t think of her sexually. Too many years separated us in age, but that didn’t stop my mind from the train of thoughts I could never allow to go anywhere. Images of me running my hands over her smooth skin.
No stop.
“Come on, blue. It’s time to get up.”
She rolled into the covers like a mummy. “No, and you can’t make me.”
“We need to get going. It’s the band’s big day,” I said and walked into her room when she didn’t object.
She rolled over again and tucked the blankets tighter. How did she continue breathing so wrapped up in the sheets?
“He doesn’t go on until tonight.” We were both aware of their concert time, but I wanted to spend the day tormenting her to make up for yesterday, and I couldn’t wait to begin. Loretta may have had youthful age and a laid-back personality on me, but I had experience on her—the experience of knowledge to drink a glass of water in between each beer I consumed. She’d laughed and called me an old man, but she wasn’t laughing now.
“Everyone needs to do their sound checks and what happened to you wanting to live life to its fullest?” I asked, holding back laughter. She’d started sprouting her “make the most of life” mantras at the beginning of pitcher two when I suggested we call it a night.
“Nothing good happens before eleven o’clock in the morning.”
She didn’t make a move to get out of bed, and the longer I stood there staring at her prone form, I felt sorry for her hangover. A nice man would have brought something to help. Coffee, a special hangover cure, or even Tylenol. I didn’t want to become the asshole she claimed me to be, but I had limited options at the moment.
Although.
I supposed she considered me an asshole, so I needed to live up to the reputation.
With as little sound as possible, I made my way to the bed and then leapt onto it, making sure I bounced hard twice in the space beside her for maximum impact. The whole bed jiggled and Loretta moaned, the sound turning pained as I flopped in her direction.
“Not cool, dude.”
“You better hurry and get dressed. I wouldn’t want to tell Pierce the band he invested so much in didn’t make it to their performance.” Yes, I resorted to blackmail. She started it.
She rolled over with the sheets still covering her face, but I didn’t need to see her to know she glowered at me. “They don’t even go on until eight o’clock tonight.”
“Sound checks.” We both knew sound checks didn’t happen at seven in the morning, but she didn’t call me on it. This wasn’t about the band but my desire to see her face, even if that meant we spent the day in her hotel room lounging on the bed. I repositioned myself up against the headboard and worked on getting comfy. It seemed as if we’d be there a while. If she didn’t plan to leave, neither did I. Loretta lay there in silence for a full five minutes, and I wondered if she’d fallen back to sleep.
Finally, as I’d been ready to scooch and catch a few more minutes of rest myself, she huffed and tossed the covers from her head exposing the tips of her shoulders. Very sexy and bare shoulders.
I’d never—not fucking once—found a woman’s shoulders to be a turn-on, but apparently when attached to Loretta shoulders became arousing. I was losing my mind.
She rubbed her eyes, squinting into the light of the room even though the shades were drawn. “Is that seriously what you’re going to wear?” she asked, with so much distaste I had to glance and check my outfit again.
I thought she’d find this better. An asshole but a different special one. More appealing. “What? It’s not a suit.”
Loretta groaned and rolled off the bed, her feet hitting the floor for less than a second before she balanced on her haunches to rifle through her suitcase. She clearly hadn’t taken the time to unpack and put her clothing in the hotel-provided dresser or hangers in the closet. It was the first thing I did.
She pulled a shirt on over her tank top and covered up the piece of her back I’d been staring at. “It’s jeans and a polo shirt. Straight-leg jeans, Reggie.”
I still didn’t see the problem. “Yeah, I dressed casual.” For her, but there’s no way I’d admit that reasoning.
She turned and smiled at me, shaking her head as if she’d given up the argument. “I guess it’s a start.” She adjusted the hem of her shirt and pulled a few more pieces of clothing from her bag.
I did my best not to stare, but as she bent over and the teeny pajama shorts she wore rose higher on her thighs, my eyes traveled with them until I forced myself to turn my head in the other direction. It wasn’t right to ogle no matter how much I wanted to enjoy the view.
My gaze locked in on the tacky watercolor painting hanging on the wall. I had a matching print in my room and suspected most rooms carried the same picture. I didn’t see Loretta again until she walked in front of me on her way to the bathroom. She paused at the door and turned, meeting my eyes.
“It’s okay, Reggie,” she said, and I frowned at the use of the nickname. I knew she’d never stop using it. “I know my ass is hot. You can stare at it.” Then she reached out with her hand and smacked her own behind before dashing into the bathroom.
My eyes widened so fast they dried out from the room’s air. The door closed quickly but not before I shouted after her. “Two perfect melons.” It wasn’t the best pickup line anyone had come up with, but I’d been short on time. And it was the truth. I’d take a bite out of her ass any day.
