Page 58 of Flirting with Trouble

He starts to get up and takes my hand, tugging me up with him, and then he wraps his arms around me. His coaxing dark eyes make my heart race. “Then let’s do our thing and go on a Saturday Scoutabout. See what trouble we can get into.”

I kind of love this. “Since when is this our thing? You’re just making up names for every day of the week.”

He gives me that devilish grin I can’t get enough of. “Gotta start somewhere.”

I laugh, and he crushes his lips to mine. “Where are we going to stay?”

“That’s part of the adventure. Let’s see what’s around here.”

He pulls out his phone and searches for nearby hotels. As we scroll through them, there are several typical-looking waterfront hotels. When we come to one that’s built on a pier, we both say, “There,” and laugh that we chose the same one.

“You’ve got good taste, Braden.”

“So do you, Silver. It reminds me of your restaurant.”

“I’d love to find something like this for my restaurant.” He angles the phone toward me. “Look. It says it used to be a shipping warehouse.”

“Maybe you can convince them to sell it to you and you can open your restaurant here.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He drapes an arm around me. “Let’s go get a room, sweet thing.”

Chapter Thirteen

Victory

I wake up in the same position as I fell asleep, wearing Wells like a second skin. My hips are nestled in the curve of his body, his arm draped around my middle. Last night left me feeling euphoric, from the surprise plane flight and concert to our laughter and deep conversations and the incredible sex that followed. I haven’t slept that soundly in years. But waking up in Wells’s arms in this incredible hotel?

This is the icing on my euphoria cake.

I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him. He makes a sleepy sound, his warm breath coasting over my cheek as he holds me tighter. It feels so good, I snuggle deeper into him, bracing myself to be swallowed by guilt.

Minutes tick, stacking up like bombs waiting to explode, but the guilt doesn’t come. My pulse quickens as confusion sets in. I open my eyes, trying to figure out why I don’t feel guilty. Is it because I didn’t wake up in the bed Harvey and I shared or because we’re not in the city?

Maybe it’s because I really like being with Wells, and I’ve managed to block out the guilt. On the heels of that thought comes, Could this be the natural course guilt takes? Easing off when I’m not clinging to it like a lifeline?

I should untangle myself to figure that out, but no part of me wants to leave his arms. I close my eyes again, breathing deeply, telling myself it’s okay to enjoy it.

“Morning, beautiful,” Wells says in a gravelly voice, and nuzzles against my neck. It’s as titillating as the feel of his arousal pressing against my ass. He shifts me onto my back and moves over me. His body is enticingly familiar, and he looks as content and happy as I feel, like there’s no place else he’d rather be, as he whispers, “There you are.”

That gets me every time, making my insides go soft. “Morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm-hm. Did you?”

“Better than ever. I’m glad we stayed.”

“Me too.” I wonder if admitting that will bring guilt, but it doesn’t.

“I like waking up with you, Vic.” He brushes his nose along my cheek and presses a kiss there. “I could get addicted to this.”

I don’t want to admit that if I were always guilt free, I could get addicted, too. “You’re just addicted to sex,” I tease.

“That’s not true. Sex is great, but holding you while you fall asleep and waking up with you snuggling in my arms? That’s different. It’s better.”

Just as I process that he feels it too, he dips his head to kiss me. I press my lips together, turning my cheek. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.” We stopped on the way to the hotel last night and bought toiletries.

“I don’t care.” He lowers his lips to mine in a slow, sensual kiss, flooding my entire being with desire and leaving no room for worries. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he whispers. “I want to kiss you all day.”