Winnie is kind. She’s sweet. But when I’ve needed breaks from social situations in the past, the follow-up usually comes with accusations. That I ditched. That I didn’t care. That I chose someone else.
Not someone checking on me.
“Yeah,” she says, frowning a little as she looks down. My body is still braced when she adds, “I’m really sorry.”
I tilt my head. “Sorry?”
“I was excited about the festival, but I forgot about some of the details. How loud it gets. How much is happening all at once. I was picturing a calm day at the beach, and that’s not what it turned into for you. Rafe explained why you probably left when I asked.”
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes genuinely apologetic. I wasn’t expecting that shift, and I’m not sure what to do with it.
“What’re those?” I ask, gently steering the conversation.
“Oh. The guys noticed you left before the desserts came out, so they sent a care package.”
“The guys?” I ask, taking the boxes and opening the top one. Inside are cookies, a slice of red cake with white frosting, and a yellow wedge. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean my pack. None of those sorry assholes can bake to save their lives.
“Yeah. Hunt and Connor, Wyatt and Jack. They all made something for the festival. It turned into a competition, so they want youto tell them which one you like best since you don’t know who made what. I’m supposed to report back.” She waves her phone, which definitely has a group chat dedicated to this.
Something tight and warm blooms in my chest, and it has nothing to do with anxiety.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone,” she says, yawning into her hand. “I just wanted to check on you.”
I reach out with the hand not holding the boxes and catch her fingers lightly before she can go too far.
It’s late. The windows are dark. The guys are probably setting up for the pop-up tomorrow and didn’t want to disturb me.
“You tired, Softness?” I ask.
She nods. “It was fun, but something about walking on a beach always makes me feel like I ran a marathon.”
A sharp flicker of irritation runs through me. They were going to let her drive home like this?
“Stay with me,” I say. I’ve never been good at indirectness. Still, even after how today went, a small part of me braces.
“But don’t you need time to yourself?” she asks softly. Hopefully.
I shake my head. “I’ve had some time. And I can’t think of anything more calming than having my mate in my bed beside me.”
She smiles and steps inside.
Winnie
The suite is beautiful. A crystal chandelier hangs in the middle of a beautifully decorated living area. Four doors lead off into what I assume are bedrooms.
“Wow,” I say. “Staying here must be astronomically expensive.” Eli nods but doesn’t comment on it, gently leading me by the hand to a side room.
It’s dark. Curtains pulled, lights off. Even the alarm clock light is covered. I make a mental note about possible light sensitivity when he sleeps.
He lets go of my hand and looks to me. Seeing him without his mask when he opened the door was crazy exhilarating. I didn’t realize just looking at someone’s face bare could be so erotic. But then my brain and my eyes caught up with the rest of what I was seeing—Eli in absolutely nothing but his boxers. Chiseled pecs, muscle-corded arms. Abs. Gage had said he might be at the hotel gym if he wasn’t in the room. I can see why.
I shake myself away from my thoughts and look to the rumpled but inviting king-sized bed.
“I can’t sleep with a bunch of clothes on,” I say, feeling the heat creep up my cheeks. It’s true. I like feeling the sheets slide over my bare legs, and if it’s cold, I like ten layers of blankets more than hot pajamas.
He steps up to me, invading my space. “Do you need help getting this off?” he asks, fingering the side of my sundress.
I should say no. I’m a perfectly capable woman who’s been undressing herself since she was two. But the words stick, become jumbled, and instead come out as a hoarse, “Okay.”
