4. Amy
Sweat beadsalong the hairline on my forehead despite the soft breeze blowing through the large lobby of the resort. The blue water in the distance sparkles under the sunlight. The welcome passionfruit mimosa is smooth going down my throat and offers the slightest amount of cooling. I chew on the corner of my lip as I run through everything packed in my to-go bag. Thankfully it contains a swimsuit, and my LBD (little black dress) is meant for the summer so they will work, but almost everything else… not so much.
“Just craptastic. Why couldn’t she have given me a little more notice? You know, like long enough to allow me to pack for the heat,” I mutter under my breath, not wanting to disturb the other guest milling around as they check-in, return from tours, or just grab a drink at the large bar. While I can thank Elise for ensuring I have a couple of items that work since she told me what to keep in my to-go bag, there’s no thanks towards her for putting me in this situation.
My gaze darts to the line of resort stores as the rock in my stomach grows heavier. Resort stores are extremely expensive and I’m going to need several items to survive this weekend without shaming Mr. More—Micah, as he kept reminding me as we talked while stretched out on the bed, side-by-side, on the plane. I could kill Elise for putting me in this situation especially when I wasn’t completely honest with Micah about her new plans. How she could have found anyone sexier than Micah, making her stand him up this weekend, is beyond me. Just one look at him, and every cell in me was screaming, “Daddy kink, here I come.” And they wanted to come in all senses of the word.
A soft groan escapes my lips as I think about the hit my savings account is going to take. Money I was hoarding so that I could move out of the crappy, dangerous apartment I currently live in.
A hand brushes against my back, making me jump.
“Sorry…”
I turn and stare at Micah. His eyes telling me that he’s sorry for more than just startling me. A misplaced guilt since none of this is his fault. It’s all Elise’s.
He swallows and my gaze is drawn the motion, reminding me off how all his muscles ripple and move under his clothing. Muscles which may be hidden, but while we were on the plane, he’d rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt, revealing muscular forearms covered in a light smattering of hair. A preview of what the rest of his suit was hiding, and I wanted—still want—to see it all. Just thinking about the possibility of him in a bathing suit tomorrow has me licking my lips, gathering the final hints of the passionfruit.
“I’ve, uh, got the room key.” The lack of confidence in his voice confuses me, keeping me from fully understanding his words until I see him hold up a single key card. But before I can ask, he continues, “Elise and I planned on sharing a room.” A slight blush stains his cheeks, making it extremely hard to keep from grinning despite the seriousness of his look. “I asked for a second room, but they’re all sold out. But they’ve assured me that the couch is comfortable, so I’ll sleep on that.”
“Let me show you the way to your room Mr. and Mrs. More” The bellboy—a man with streaks of grey in his dark hair—smiles while holding out his hand, showing us the way to walk. “Your luggage is already being transported,” he says without giving us time to correct him as he continues to tell us all about the resort, it’s amenities, and how to get to the various areas where the functions are being held.
Micah catches my eye and mouths, “Sorry”, but I just grin and shrug. I’m not worried about being called Mrs. More by the staff when I’m his plus one.
The bellboy opens the door, ushering us into a breathtakingly gorgeous room. Or at least I think the room is beautiful as my gaze is looked onto the far wall made completely of glass, looking out onto the white sand beach and the turquoise water.
After tipping the bellboy, Micah motions to the large couch backed up against the backside of the headboard. Unlike the one Caribbean hotel room I’ve been in, this one has the giant bed situated in the middle of the room, facing the glass wall, giving you a beautiful view to wake up to each morning. “It looks big enough and comfortable enough to sleep on.”
I glance between the couch and the massive bed. We’re adults even if we’re strangers—a stranger that I’d very much like to jump, but whatever—so, sleeping together, sharing a bed, for the purpose of sleeping, shouldn’t be an issue. I shrug and try to act nonchalant. “So’s the bed. It’s so big that we could both fit on and never know the other person was there.”
The corners of his mouth twitch and his eyes begin to sparkle. “Is that your way of offering me the bed to sleep in? With you, of course.”
“Well, it does seem to be unfair that you’re the invited guest and you’re the one on the couch. I’m just trying to be a nice person for someone who seems to be a little down on their luck.”
He chuckles, but then drops all signs of levity from his demeanour. “Are you sure?”
He looks so uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with me, which is a big slap of reality for me, that I offer up a practical, if not childish, solution. “If you want, we can always put a line of pillows down the middle to make it seem like it’s two beds.”
His eyes widen in surprise as I casually throw pillows into the center of the bed, adding more until he smiles. “Well then, I accept.” He steps beside me before reaching out and grabbing one of the pillows, tossing it at me. “But I think we can dispense with the pillows.”
An alarm sounds on his phone, breaking up the beginnings of a pillow fight. “Shit. We’ve got half an hour before the dinner starts.” He looks me over. “Do you have a cocktail dress with you? If not”—he pulls out a credit card—“actually, put whatever you need, toothpaste, face wash, a new wardrobe, I don’t care. Put it on my card and let me pay for it.”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t. It’s okay. I’ve got a cocktail dress and a swimsuit. I’d already planned on picking up a dress for the wedding.”
“Nonsense.” He grasps my chin, holding my face steady and in a spot where I can’t easily break eye contact. “You’re here helping me. And Elise probably isn’t paying you extra even though you’re giving up whatever you’d planned for the weekend. So, let me pay for things. Take a couple of hours at the spa tomorrow or before the wedding. Enjoy a massage and whatever else women do there. It’s all on me… as a thank you.”
I try to open my mouth, but his adjusts his hold on me, covering my mouth as he makes my head nod. In a high pitch voice, he says, “Thank you, Micah. That’s very generous of you. But then you’re always generous…and strong…and handsome, really, you’re the best.”
By the time he bats his eyelashes I can’t stop the giggles that escape around his thumb. He removes his hold of my chin, sliding his hand down to cradle the side of my neck, stopping my giggles. The hold is possessive and caring. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from a man. And from the way his nostrils flare—as if he was some type of shifter from those paranormal romance books—along with the dilation of his pupils, I think he wants me, desires me, too.
The silence thickens, drowning out the sounds of the rolling waves coming ashore. Fuck me, I want him. I want to drop to my knees before him and let him use me however he wants. But that thought scares me, making me tense up, breaking the hold he has on me.
I step back… and he lets me, releasing his hold. “I-I should go grab a quick shower and change.”
I don’t wait for his response, letting my cowardness out to play as I rush to the bathroom. Only stopping long enough to snag my go bag to bring with me.