“Fine,” I find myself replying with a silent, Please, God don’t let this blow up in my face..

“Fine?” He looks at me funny, as though my sudden agreement surprises him.

“Yeah, man. Fine. We’ll share the room.”

I dare you to argue with the fact that I agreed.

He easily reads me and backs off.

9

Lauren

I slide my large, round Chloe sunglasses over my eyes. Not that it’s sunny, but I don’t want Slade to see my face right now. I’m nervous to be staying with him. I’m good at faking things but not that good. Plus, it dims everything around me. I don’t want to see his huge body and handsome face. He’s almost too much. After leaving me on the brink of a deep orgasm, followed by his admission that I’m nothing more than a one-night stand, unworthy of being in his bed, I feel frustrated, insecure, and angry. I begged Vincent and Eve to find another room for me, but the hotel is completely booked.

The bellboy trails after Slade and me as he brings our bags to the room. My black suitcase is full-sized while he has nothing but a small green Under Armour duffel bag. Figures.

We enter our beautiful room, and I do my best not to clap in delight. Two plush white queen-sized beds are on either side of the rectangular room as serene black-and-white photography of a mountain sunset adorns the space between. A large white desk sits at the opposite corner alongside a cream couch. A black-and-chrome Nespresso coffeemaker sits atop a beautiful cream-colored dresser.

“The bathroom,” the bellboy announces, opening up a door to a huge double-sink marble bath.

I peek inside, feeling utter relief. This is exactly what I need to relax my nerves.

After the bellboy gives us a detailed description of the beautiful amenities of the property, including handing me a schedule of group workouts on the property, Slade opens the minibar. Leaning in, he seems to scan the items. I can see the top of his boxer briefs; the black elastic band is nice and tight around his firm waist.

“Everything in here is alcohol-free.” Shutting the door, he turns back to the bellboy in fury.

I’m taken aback by his attitude. I love a glass of wine as much as the next person, but Slade looks legitimately angry.

“That would be right, sir.”

I’d bet sweat is taking up residence beneath his uniform with the way his eyes have widened. I glance between the two of them, unsure.

Slade crosses his arms, apparently waiting for a reply.

“Utah state law a-affects alcohol service, sir. The m-minibar must be dry because it is complimentary, and complimentary alcohol is illegal.”

“Shit,” he says out loud, clenching his fists.

After pulling out a bill from his wallet, he hands it to the shaking kid, who hastily makes his exit. There’s a moment of awkwardness as the door slams shut. His exaggerated response makes me feel uncomfortable.