Chapter 1 #2
Rising to her feet, she felt a subtle ache between her legs which pretty much annihilated her delusional false hope of nothing having happened.
The guy started moving, so she immediately dropped to the floor.
A few tense moments and a lot of prayers later, his breathing returned to that same, even pace as before.
Popping her head up like a pocket gopher out of a burrow, she glimpsed his shoulder and a shock of black hair.
He’d rolled over, so was now turned away from her, facing where she’d been lying a few moments ago.
The sheet had slid down to expose more of his skin.
Wow.
His back was gorgeous. Like truly mouthwatering.
Backs didn’t get enough attention, in her opinion, and this one deserved its own billboard.
At least, she had good taste in strangers, if the rest of him looked anything like his back and ass.
She reached out to trace the ridges and valleys of his defined muscles with her fingers.
Thankfully, she snapped out of whatever trance she’d fallen into before she made contact.
What’s wrong with me? Move!
She tried to make herself as small as possible, hunching over when she stood.
The shirt she was wearing hit her mid-thigh, so instead of wasting time putting on her dress, she scooped it up, along with the heels she found closer to the door.
Unfortunately, she didn’t see her undergarments or purse anywhere.
Dammit.
She hoped Skye or Laurel had it—her purse, not her underwear—because she wasn’t willing to spend any more time in this room pushing her luck.
She needed to get out before he woke up.
Morning after conversations were always awkward.
However, it would be a million times worse with someone she didn’t remember.
Way to go, Britt. Momma would be so proud.
She slunk out of the room without a backward glance and quietly closed the door. Taking in her surroundings, she exhaled a sigh of relief.
This is my hotel.
No way she’d forget that horrible, red and gold, make-you-dizzy carpet design she’d commented on when they’d first checked in. At least one thing was in her favor: she didn’t have to walk down the Strip in nothing but a T-shirt to find her hotel.
She’d only taken a couple steps toward the elevator before thinking better of it. The chance of running into someone was greater on the elevator than the stairs. Making small talk while standing there barely dressed, clutching last night’s clothing to her chest?
Yeah, no thank you.
Might as well stamp “hey, y’all, look at me doing the walk of shame” across her forehead in scarlet letters.
The door to the stairwell squeaked when she opened it and scampered inside. A large number five was painted on the wall by the door.
Okay. Her room was on the eighth floor, so she only had to go up three flights. She could do this.
It wasn’t until she was standing in front of the door to her room that it dawned on her she didn’t have a key.
“Son of a bee sting!” She looked down at the wadded-up dress in her arms. It didn’t have pockets.
Dammit. Why hadn’t she worn the one with pockets?
If she had, she could have left her purse in the room and stashed her room key and some money in the pockets.
She’d even thought about it. Had literally gone back and forth between the two choices she’d brought with her.
But in the end, she’d opted for the non-pocket dress because it was lavender and she knew purple was?—
She shook her head. It didn’t matter whose favorite color it was or why she’d worn it. She had, which meant her keycard was running amok with her purse and she was left with four choices.
Number one: go to Skye’s room and accept the fact she’d never let her live this down.
Pass.
Number two: go to Laurel’s room… that she was sharing with Jake. Damn. She’d rather put up with Skye’s merciless teasing than have Jake know what had happened.
Number three: knock on Linc’s door and… no.
The thought of him knowing she’d woken up in a stranger’s room?
That bothered her more than it should. Besides, she didn’t know which room he was in anyway since he’d had to swap rooms yesterday.
Something was up with the air conditioner in his first room.
It was going to take a while to fix, so they’d moved him to one that had a working unit.
A/C was kind of important when it was one hundred degrees outside.
Of course, there was still option number four: go down to the lobby pantiless, humiliate herself in front of whoever might be there, and pray she didn’t get arrested for public indecency.
Wait. There was one more option: give it a minute for her headache from hell to explode her brain.
She tipped her head back with a whimper. Basically, she was up shit’s creek without a keycard.
That does it. I’m never buying anything without pockets again!
She was startled out of the mess that had become her life when a woman emerged from the room across the hall.
She gave Britt’s bare legs and armful of clothing a once-over.
Britt self-consciously tugged on the hem of the oversized shirt she was wearing, hoping she hadn’t just flashed her very unamused neighbor.
Then again, it might be worth it to see Mrs. Judgy’s appalled face turn bright red.
The woman scowled at her, before stomping down the hall with an indignant huff.
Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all.
Resigning herself to her fate, Britt was about to head for Skye’s room when housekeeping wheeled a cart around the corner.
Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Britt scurried a few doors down to the alcove with the ice machine, and stashed her clothes between it and the wall.
She took a deep breath, blew it out, then headed straight toward her Hail Mary attempt.
“Excuse me?” she called in the most innocent voice she could muster. You know, for a woman who just had sex with a stranger and wasn’t wearing any underwear.
The maid looked over the stack of towels she was carrying. “Yes?”
“Hi.” Britt flashed her best stage smile. Hopefully, having competed in pageants since she was a young'un would finally come in handy. “I’m hoping you can help me.”
“What did you need? Extra towels? Shampoo?”
“No.” She held up her hands to stop her from offering anything else. “Thank you, but I’m good on those. I was actually hoping you could help me get back into my room. I locked myself out.”
“We’re really not supposed?—”
“Please.” Okay, she obviously needed to pad her story. “The ice machine is a few doors down from mine, so I thought I’d just run over quickly and grab some, then be back in my room before anyone saw me.”
The woman’s gaze swept from the huge T-shirt Britt wore, down her bare legs to her pink-polished toes.
“It was stupid, I know,” she continued. “I guess I didn’t prop the door open well enough because it closed, and now I’m locked out.”
You’re going to hell.
Britt thought the woman was coming around, until she said, “The front desk can give you another key.”
“Please,” Britt begged, then added in a hushed tone, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
The woman's eyebrows hiked as her gaze once again dipped to Britt’s bare legs.
“Please. I really don’t want to go downstairs and risk flashing someone.” Now that was the truth. “Please don’t make me do that.” She stuck her bottom lip out for effect.
Yep. Lucifer would soon be her roomie.
“I swear I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart.”
“Well…”
She clapped her hands together like she was praying. “Pleeease.”
After looking up and down the hall a few times, the woman finally relented. “Okay. Just this one time.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“Which room is it?”
“This way.” Britt waved for her to follow. “I’m in eight oh eight.”
When the woman opened her door, Britt nearly cried. “Thank you so much! You have no idea how much you just saved me.”
“I think I have a little idea.” Her rescuer glanced down once more and smirked.
“Right.” Britt felt her cheeks heat. “Well, thank you again. Let me…” She was going to say “get you a tip,” except she had no clue where her purse was. Dammit. “What’s your name?” she asked instead.
The maid’s eyes widened. “My name?”
“I’m not going to tell anyone that you helped me,” Britt quickly assured her. “I don’t have any cash, and I’d like to leave you a tip when I check out.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, Miss.”
“Britt,” she supplied. “Call me Britt. And it most definitely is. You saved my, well, my bare butt.”
The woman pursed her lips against a laugh. “My name’s Rosalie.”
“Rosalie, you are a saint!”
Britt must’ve said “thank you” twenty more times before she closed herself into the safety of her room. Rosalie was her new favorite person on earth, and she was getting a huge tip.
Right after Britt put on some clothes and grabbed the stuff she’d stashed in the ice room.
And found her purse.
And downed about ten aspirin.