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“So warm,” she murmurs again. “And your pecs are huge!”

She leans back for a proper view of them then presses a hand to my chest and runs it across my muscles. I should stop her—I know I should—but I’m frozen. I don’t do anything to encourage her, but I also don’t do anything to discourage her. I just watch her, enjoying the sensations of her hand exploring me. But then . . . that hand slides down to my abs and from there to my belt.

Jesus. Is this woman trying to kill me?

It takes superhuman self-restraint on my part, but I take a hold of her hand and lift it away.

“Tonight has been fun, but let’s not do anything we regret in the morning. All right?”

She blinks up at me. “But you are coming to bed with me, yeah?”

Fuck! How can she just say it like that? In my jeans, my cock reacts to her words.

“No, Emily. You’ve had a wee bit too much to drink.”

“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport! I want to see you with your clothes off again.”

“Again?”

She giggles naughtily. “I peeked earlier when you were changing out of your wetsuit. I never got to see the front side, though.” She glances down at my crotch.

Maybe I panic, not wanting her to realise something is growing there, or maybe . . . fuck, I don’t know why I do it. But the next thing I know, I’m hoisting her up over my shoulder in a firefighter’s lift.

“I’ll just carry you back to the hotel,” I hear myself saying as I stride along the pavement. “I think you’re a wee bit worse for wear.”

“Put me down!” she demands, striking my back. And then: “Oh, actually . . . I can reach your bum from here!” She squeezes it then giggles again.

This woman is going to be the death of me.

“That’s enough, Emily!” I say firmly, although even as I say it, I have to adjust my crotch with my free hand.

The last thing I want is a boner right now: she’s drunk, she’s a guest of the hotel, and she was meant to be married three days ago. A hard-on would be inappropriate for so many reasons. My brain knows this, but my cock has other ideas.

“Boo!” Emily slaps my arse cheeks like they’re bongos. “You’re boring, Ally! Booooooring!”

Christ almighty.

I power walk the remaining way to the hotel and, reaching it, throw open the front door and manoeuvre us into reception—which is empty, thank God.

Emily is now prodding my arse with her finger, but I ignore her and continue on upstairs. I place her down at the door to room two then take a big step back from her and casually clasp my hands in front of me.

“All right, here you are. I think you’re going to feel rough in the morning, unfortunately. Anyway, I’ll just be—”

“You are coming with me!” Emily grabs my shirt.

“No.” I gently prize her fingers off. “Sleep off the drink, Emily. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But I want you!” She pouts.

Talk about temptation. She looks so sexy with her wild hair and sultry eyes and those oh-so-kissable lips. It’d be the easiest thing in the world to cave and go into her room with her, but she’s not in a position to be making rational decisions. It’s the drink talking.

I refuse to be that guy, even though I’d like nothing more than to take her to bed. Fuck, I’d like to pin her against the wall right here, run my hands up her thighs, lift her dress . . .

No. I shake the thoughts away.

“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow,” I say. “Good night.” And before I can change my mind, I turn and stride away from her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN