Chapter 2
2
W hat the hell am I thinking? I can’t spend an hour alone with Ariana! Not when she flushes so prettily when she gets frustrated. Not when every time I see her, I have to force myself to stop staring at her tits and wonder what it’d be like to fuck them.
Gods, I’m such a pervert. She’s Doug’s sister. His much younger sister. Totally off-limits.
Doug never explicitly told me that, but it’s an implied part of being someone’s best friend—don’t fuck their little sister. Their sister with a lush body that I dream about seeing naked, and a mouth full of sarcasm begging to be shut up by my cock.
Like I said, I’m a pervert.
I definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but she looked in need of fun and so worn out that I couldn’t let her go home and exhaust herself even more. Though I guess she’s not worn out enough for it to dampen her abrasive attitude. She saves her snark just for me, and fuck me, if that doesn’t make my dick even harder for her. I like a challenge, and Ariana’s the most tempting one I’ve ever met.
That also makes me sound like a creep. It’s not that I like a challenge in a pick-up artist, “won’t take no for an answer” way. It’s just refreshing to be around a woman who doesn’t fawn all over me because of the way I look. Gods, that makes me sound conceited, but it’s a fact! I look good—I work out a lot, I dress well, and my face is decent. So I like that Ariana gives me shit instead of simpering.
I like Ariana for many reasons. She’s so damn smart and creative, she works her ass off for her business, and she’s fucking sexy even when she’s kind of a mess. All of those reasons add up to mean that I shouldn’t be pushing to get time with her alone. She’s never shown even a hint of interest in me, and I’m not interested in making her uncomfortable. Unless it’s a consensual kind of discomfort.
Great, now I’m thinking about spanking her luscious ass. Dude, get a hold of yourself!
I can’t help but savor the feel of her under my hand as I guide her inside, even if it’s through the thick fabric of her enormous sweatshirt. I’ve touched Ariana twice now. I should not be touching her. There must be some kind of horny Valentine’s Day energy in the air, because I almost always manage to keep my distance, but it’s almost impossible tonight.
She doesn’t pull away from my touch when we get up to the check-in desk, which I note with far too much satisfaction before forcing myself to back off. The receptionist is finishing up with another group, allowing me to take stock of the situation. Ariana’s pale cheeks are a little flushed and I suppress a grin as I watch her mentally wrestle with how to get out of spending this time with me. If she comes up with something, no matter how flimsy of an excuse it is, I won’t force her to stay. Part of me hopes she thinks of something, so I don’t spend the next hour trying to solve riddles while half the blood in my body is allocated to my semi-hard dick.
“You’re thinking awfully hard there,” I say, prompting her to give me her excuse.
“I’m preparing myself to spend an hour locked in a room with you,” she says with a dramatic sigh.
She’s not leaving. Shit. Hell yeah. But shit .
“Hah! Use that as motivation. The faster you solve the puzzles, the faster you can be free from me.” That earns a chuckle from her. Gods, I love her laugh.
She opens her mouth for what I’m sure is going to be another witty barb, but the receptionist interrupts, turning to greet us. “Welcome to Fantasy Escapes! Are you here to check-in for a reservation?”
Ariana gives him a weak smile. “Yeah, it should be under ‘Sawyer’.”
The receptionist nods, his eyes dipping momentarily to give her a once-over before looking at his laptop. Ariana tugs at her sweatshirt self-consciously as she waits for him to look up our reservation.
Why is she acting nervous about her appearance? Is she attracted to him? Sure, he has nice hair and an elegant face typical of a fae, but she could do a lot better. Is he her type? Damn, no wonder she’s so indifferent toward me.
A surge of jealousy and indignance rushes through me. She looks great. Sure, that sweatshirt has a small pasta sauce stain on the sleeve and it’s at least two sizes too big, but he would be so lucky to get a shot at Ariana. My hand twitches, wanting to wrap a possessive arm around her waist, but I hold myself back.
“Ah, here we go,” the receptionist says, finding the reservation. His eyes drop again to Ariana’s chest and his lips twist into a small grin. It better be because he’s a fan of the adorable cat design on her shirt, not because he’s staring at her tits. It’s one of the designs she sells in her shop and it’s cute as shit. Godsdammit, now I’m staring at her breasts. Look away from the kitty titties!
“Just the two of you?” he asks, smiling at my girl in a way that’s far too friendly for my liking.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out deeper than usual. Any restraint I had a moment ago evaporates, and I drape an arm over her shoulder.
Ariana tenses and looks up at me, her cute eyebrows scrunching together at my weird behavior. I squeeze her shoulder and try to play it off as an innocent brotherly gesture, but she still looks perplexed. I don’t blame her. That’s the third time I’ve touched her tonight. Doug is usually around when I see her, so it’s easier to keep my distance. Now that he’s absent, my hands seem to want to make up for lost time.
The receptionist gives me a knowing look. “Nice, man. We have a lot of couples here tonight. You’ve picked the perfect time slot, too. Last booking of the night means we can let you stay in the room longer than an hour if you need more time to…” He trails off with a smirk.
“We’re not! We won’t need more time!” Ariana sputters at the receptionist’s insinuation .
“Oh? Well, I’ll still give you privacy. Just in case the close quarters inspire you to change your mind and have some extra…fun.” He winks at Ariana and she flushes bright red.
While the thought of having some fun with Ariana in the escape room makes my dick perk up, this dude needs to back the fuck off. She’s clearly uncomfortable.
“We won’t need the time. She’s really good at puzzles,” I say, patting her on the shoulder before releasing my hold on her.
“Y-yeah.” She gives me an appreciative nod.
The fucker has the audacity to grin like it’s some kind of innuendo. “I bet.” I scowl at him and he sobers immediately.
“Follow me,” he says, heading down a narrow hall with no further comments other than to give us a quick synopsis of the rules of the escape room and to let me know that my glamor won’t work inside the room because of the anti-magic enchantment on the space.
He opens the door to a small room styled to look like an abandoned Victorian parlor—peeling damask wallpaper, flickering candlelight, and creepy portraits all working to create an effectively spooky atmosphere. The vibe is broken a bit when we step inside, and he gives us a rehearsed speech about the people that lived in this house, their mysterious deaths, and some nonsense about how their vengeful spirits have trapped us inside and we have an hour to put them to rest and escape or be doomed to an eternity of haunting the manor with them. I honestly wish this jerk would shut up and leave us alone, because Ariana still looks embarrassed by his earlier comments.
“Great, cool, doomed for eternity. Thanks, man. We’ve got it,” I say, cutting him off and gesturing for him to leave.
Now that my glamor is down, and he can see my full, hulking minotaur self, he gives me a nervous look and nods before scurrying out of the room. Good riddance.
As soon as the door closes and “locks” behind him, I let out a sigh. “Man, that dude was such an ass.”
Ariana grimaces. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Please tell me she doesn’t think she deserved for him to perv on her like that.
She shrugs, looking down at her feet. “I feel bad that he thought we’re, uh, on a date. I’m sure it’s a repulsive thought to you, what with me being Doug’s little sister and all of this .” She gestures down at herself with a strained laugh, still not meeting my eyes.
“All of what, Ari?” I ask in a rough tone. Is she kidding me? I want to tell her that the thought of this being a date and getting to have my way with her while we’re trapped in this room is making it hard for me not to pop a boner.
She glares back at me like I’m the biggest moron in the world. “God, you’re such an ass. You really want me to enumerate the reasons why it’d be embarrassing for someone like you to be on a date with me?”
She thinks I was upset with that guy because he thought we were on a date? “Ari, what the hell?—”
“Forget it. Let’s just get started,” she says dismissively, turning away from me to start scanning the room.
Everything in me wants to grab her and confess how godsdamn wrong she is, but I can feel her bristling with anger even with her back turned. She’d probably think I’m messing with her and it’d piss her off even more.
I’m pissed, too. She thinks I’m that much of an egotistical asshole? Even if I wasn’t attracted to her, I sure as fuck wouldn’t give a shit if people thought we were dating. I almost say that, but hold myself back. Focus on the room, and let her cool off. Let us both cool off.
I move to inspect the other side of the room, rummaging through a beat-up desk for any potential clues. This is going to be a long hour.