Page 20 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

His downtown condo with its floor-to-ceiling windows, the controlled precision of everything he did.

Nick just last night, quiet and intense, watching me with those green eyes that seemed to see straight through every defense I had.

His penthouse and commanding presence, the way he'd pulled responses from me that I didn't know I was capable of giving.

Three different men.

Three completely different experiences.

And apparently, they all know each other.

I get out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror.

My face is flushed, whether from the hot water or the continued embarrassment, I'm not sure.

My red hair hangs in wet waves around my shoulders, and my blue eyes look wider than usual, almost panicked.

"You're an idiot," I tell my reflection. "A complete and total idiot."

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Sharon. I ignore it.

I get dressed in comfortable clothes, leggings and an oversized sweater, and make my way to the kitchen.

Coffee. I need coffee if I'm going to survive this day.

I go through the motions of brewing a pot, but my mind is elsewhere, still circling the same mortifying thoughts.

Did they think I was trying to play them?

Did they think I knew who they were and was deliberately sleeping with all three of them for some reason?

The idea makes my stomach twist.

But how could I have missed it?

Now that I'm thinking about it, there were signs. Things I should have noticed.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and carry it to my small living room, curling up on the couch with a blanket.

My laptop sits on the coffee table, waiting for me to work on my blog posts or my romance novel.

I should be writing and taking advantage of all this new experience, turning it into something productive.

Instead, I just sit there, staring at the closed laptop, my mind replaying details I'd overlooked before.

The security at the Ivory Wolf.

I'd noticed it was tight, but I'd assumed that was normal for an upscale club.

Now I'm remembering the way those men had carried themselves, the bulges under their jackets that I'd tried not to think too hard about.

Those weren't just bouncers.

Those were armed guards.

The black SUVs.

All three men had arrived in them, sleek and expensive with tinted windows.