My hand, holding the key, is dangling, casually brushing his butt. Tap, tap, tap with every step. Would he notice if I added a little rub in there? I’m vaguely aware of the wet snow falling on my ass. Combined with the howling wind, my butt’s completely numb. But I’ve got a key in my hand, and before you know it, I can climb into the shower and have a little me time while fantasizing about this moment. Being manhandled this way is definitely going into the permanent rotation.
I’m spinning, then I’m suddenly on my feet. He takes a second to steady me, then dashes back to the car. The blood is rushing every which way in my body, and my head’s not really sure what way’s up. Maybe next time, I’ll opt for a piggyback. I could get behind that. Climbing up on that muscled back, legs wrapped tight around him.
Before the end of this trip, I’m going to get a piggyback ride. I’ve decided.
Daydreaming about riding Declan, I barely register it when he takes the key from me and ushers me into the room. It’s not until the door closes and we’re out of the wind that I register how cold I really am. My face is numb.
“Jesus. They only had one room left. We’re lucky as fuck.”
I hear him, but I can’t respond. I’m struck dumb, staring at the middle of the wall. There, covered in an ancient floral spread, is a single queen bed. One bed.
Oh my god, I’m in a romance novel.
“Fuck,” Declan mutters. He’s rubbing his beard, staring at the bed. Guess I’m not the only one floored by this little development.
“I guess it could be worse,” I murmur. “It could be a twin.”
Declan snorts, a surprised chuckle rolling from deep in his chest. The panic and worry of the last half an hour releases, and I’m laughing too. Our laughter gradually dies, and our eyes meet. The moment is charged. I know we’re both wondering what the hell we’re going to do. What’s the etiquette here? Do we roll for it? Rock-paper-scissors for it? Do we make a wall of pillows like in some stupid movie? Do I just crawl onto him an—.
Whoops. Got carried away there.
Declan clears his throat and pulls his eyes away. He picks up my bag and carries it into the bathroom.
“Why don’t you jump in the shower and warm up? I’m going to call Colt and tear him a new asshole.”
“Are you sure? You’re soaked.”
Declan’s face is grim. “Cara, you’re shaking. Get in there.” I am shaking. How did I not notice that?
“Okay, I’ll be quick.”
Closing the door, I drop to the edge of the tub. What a fucking day. We were supposed to be in the guys’ hotel in Vegas by now — because, of course, they own a hotel — sipping drinks and gambling. We were going to be in a big group, helping Colton celebrate his wedding. Now, thanks to that lunatic, I’m stuck in a motel room, alone with the man I’ve been crushing on for years, while a terrifying storm rages outside.
It could be worse. We could be dead. But I’m afraid by the time this storm ends, one of us will be. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this. With him. The man who wants to be friends.
I don’t want to be his friend.
But maybe that’s been part of the problem all along. I’ve been fixating on Declan, but we didn’t really know each other. Other than he loves his family and he plays video games, how much do I really know about him? I had no idea he’d stolen cars. And why does the idea of him hot-wiring a car get me so hot?
I rush through my shower, skipping the ‘me’ time. No way can I do that with him right outside the door. The walls are so thin I can hear the guy next door singing in the shower. For sure, Declan could hear me. I don’t care about giving some stranger a show, but not Declan.
I paw through my bag, discarding one item after another. I have Vegas clothes, not snowstorm clothes. And I really don’t have share your hotel room with your boss pajamas. This would be easier if I was one of those Victorian ladies who wore nightgowns that touch the floor and button to the neck. Instead, I’m stuck with my favorite satin babydolls. They’re sexy as fuck, but I love them because they only fall to mid-thigh. Long nightgowns or top sheets end up wrapped around me, and I wake up screaming, convinced I’m being swallowed whole by a boa constrictor.
I throw one of the babydoll sets on, and yep, sexy as fuck. Vegas was my chance to get wild and crazy. To try and put aside the worry of the last month and just breathe. I was going to try and find myself again. And maybe find someone to get on top of. Hence, the sexy wardrobe.
As I dry my hair, I run through my options, which honestly aren’t many. Every item of clothing in my bag is sexy and tight. Why the hell didn’t I pack at least one of my lounge sets? Because I was supposed to have my own hotel room, that’s why.
My blonde hair, now dry, is a wild mane around my head, my hazel eyes glittering, cheeks rosy, and breasts totally on point. I look like a woman who’s been thinking about sex, and I’m supposed to go out there?
A soft knock on the door. “Cara, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I say, clearing the panic from my throat. “I, uh, just didn’t pack for any of this.”
“Do you need something? I’ve got another hoodie in my bag.”
Do I need Declan’s hoodie? No. Do I want it? “That would be great, thanks.”
I crack the door, peeking out to watch him dig through his bag. He finally turns, holding a black hoodie, and freezes when he sees me peeking out. The little devil on my shoulder makes me push the door open and walk to him for the sweater. Did I plan on making his eyes bug out of his head? Did I want his breath to catch in his throat? Did I hope his eyes would roam over me, looking hungry?
