Page 77 of The Unfluencer

A small laugh sputters out of me. I’m still in these damn pajamas. My bag’s contents are strewn on the bed because halfway through unpacking, I realized I’d packed for sun and sand. I’m about as prepared for a tropical storm as I was for a panty-dropping lip-lock that left me nothing but a pulsing mess of bones and nerve endings aching for more.

“Oh yeah, I’m not moving an inch,” I say.

Ebony’s voice squeaks through the line. “I’ve got a good feeling about you and this guy. But do I even want to know how you’re going to swing that?”

“What’s the coup de grâce?”

She gasps. “You’re baiting him!”

“Bingo.” I stand, grabbing my makeup back off the bed and making my way to the en suite bathroom. “A man loves a woman who lets him lead, right? If I stay in this room until he comes to get me, it’s on his terms. Suddenly, I’m not the one making a big deal about the plane or the kiss. No arguing or nagging. I’m simply agreeable.”

“Whit, that’s deep.”

“Thinking out the box.” I glide on a fresh coat of my lip gloss. “I’m just going to stay my happy self here until he comes to rescue me. Trust me, it won’t be more than another hour or two until he⁠—”

A faint rap on the door echoes off the walls, stealing our breaths.

“It’s him!” Ebony yelps.

I’ve never felt more vindicated in my life. “See, nothing to worry about. Things are progressing according to plan.”

After I let Ebony go with a promise of a full update, I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror, smoothing my hands over my pajamas.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“Whitney, it’s me.” Warner’s bass-filled voice vibrates under the wooden door’s clearing, and it might as well be his hands on me, wandering, getting lost on my skin. “Can I talk to you?”

Let him lead.

I swing the door open, and immediately, I know I’m viscerally unprepared.

Warner’s in my door. Easy lean, charming smile, towering appetizingly over me. And worse, he’s swapped his jeans for heather-gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, contouring in all the right places.

Lord have mercy.

“Hi.” It comes out breathy, nervous.

This man’s mouth curves into an adorably sexy smile that instantly weakens my knees and my resolve.

“Hey,” he says gruffly. “I noticed you’ve been in your room since we arrived, and I’m hopeful that’s not due to my recent decisions. Or your accommodations. Usually, we’d offer the guest villa for a little more privacy from the main residence, but given the storm…” He cracks a small, shaky smile. “However, I’m here for two reasons.”

My heart taps out a wild xylophone solo on my ribcage.

“Oh?”

Warner lowers his chin to his chest, licking his lips. “Yes, I’ve had lots of time to think about this. First, I want to apologize. Officially. For the plane, the weather…” His gaze lifts to mine. “Kissing you when you were vulnerable and afraid.” He swallows hard. “I shouldn’t have taken that liberty without your consent.”

Oh damn.

I don’t interrupt to tell him that kiss definitely wasn’t one-sided. Or that I’m not sure what possessed him to do it, but I would’ve died happy if he’d kept going. Curved his hands to my face and devoured my willing mouth. That would, no doubt, have changed the trajectory of this conversation. Of this entire trip.

And I’m supposed to be letting him lead.

Instead, I ask, “And second?”

I hate the disappointment that flickers across his beautiful face. The way his rich brown skin blanches for a split second before he straightens, nodding.

“Right.” He half laughs, like he expected this to go differently and he’s now course-correcting. “Yes, and the second reason I’m here is to invite you to accompany me on a kitchen adventure”—a huge smile breaks on his face—“where I’ll prepare you a culinary masterpiece for breakfast over great conversation for us to get to know one another. After which, we’ll make a run for it to check on the paintings. Ensure there’s no water intrusion and⁠—”