Page 78 of Hard to Handle

My hips buck.

“Take it all.”

My hands grip the comforter beneath me.

“Come for me, Dekk.”

I cry out as my body tenses with pleasure and then sags with its release. I’m awash with warmth and bliss as my knees buckle, but Hunter’s hands hold my hips up as he continues to drive into me. As he milks every ounce of pleasure out of me before picking up his pace.

I’m still under the fog of my climax, still trying to catch my breath and gain my faculties, but I don’t have a chance to because it’s Hunter’s turn now.

His hands bruise and hips slam against me until his feral groan echoes as he empties himself into me.

“Hell,” he murmurs as he bends over and kisses my shoulder before wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me into him.

We stay like this for a few moments as our breathing evens and our hearts decelerate. Just as I’m trying to figure out what happens next, he slips out of me when he straightens up, and heads for the bathroom without a word.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DEKKER

THE KNOCK ON THE HOTEL room door has me jolting to attention like a kid caught doing something she shouldn’t be doing.

“The food,” we both say in unison as if that singular idea can suddenly bring back the disjointed feeling we both have in the aftermath of what happened between us.

“Here.” He tosses a robe my way as he strides past me to where his suitcase is. “Just a second,” he calls to the room service person on the other side of the door. Within a few seconds, he’s stepping into a pair of jogging pants, as I slide the robe on.

“I’d kill for anything hot.” He laughs the words out, his hand tapping my ass, before he opens the door. “What do you have for us . . .?”

Hunter’s words fade while my hands still tying the knot in my robe.

Callum.

Eyes wide, jaw lax.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He jerks back a step. “It’s late.” His eyes go between the two of us again as he stammers. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“You didn’t. Nothing happened.” More than flustered, I take a step forward, well aware that the room behind us suggests the contrary. Our wet clothes litter the space, landing wherever we took them off, and the bed is a rumpled mess. “We had a snowball fight. We were wet.” The words come out messily as I gesture toward the clothes strewn about. “Freezing. There’s a pipe leak in my hallway. On my floor. We thought you were room service bringing us food to warm us up.”

“Relax, Dekk,” Hunter says as he reaches up and puts a hand on my bicep. “You’re a big girl. You don’t have to explain.”

But I do have to explain, I want to say. Callum is a client, and now that he thinks we’re together, my integrity and reputation are at stake.

“I just . . . it’s not what he thinks it is,” I mumble, hating that Callum can’t even meet my eyes.

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay,” Callum says to me, eyes lowered. “I tried your cell but didn’t hear anything.” He pauses and then turns his attention to Hunter. “And you, Maddox. You took off from the club without a word and were drunk as shit . . . Forget about it.” He looks from Hunter to me and then back. “You’re obviously okay. Both of you.”

“Yep. Sure am,” Hunter says, that half-cocked smirk on his lips not doing me any favors to dispel the situation.

“I’m just waiting for my room to be ready.”

“In a robe,” Cal purses his lips and nods. “Got it.”

“Cal, wait,” I say and step past Hunter. “I promise it’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s your business, not mine.”