“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know.” My voice is rough and sleep worn.
“It is not safe here. Come to my room.”
I glance down at the spaghetti-strapped, peach, silk nightgow
n. “I’m not dressed.’
“This is a safety issue. I’ll give you whatever you need once you’re in my room.”
“I can just grab—”
He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him. “Now.” His gravelly voice touches a part of me I didn’t know existed. Having the choice handled for me by someone I trust allows me to relax. I close my eyes and lean into his hold, enjoying the heat his body produces. West will make sure things go smoothly. I’ve seen how well he excels at that. I can lay my responsibilities down and allow him to carry them—just for a bit.
“Good girl.” He pulls me to him and wraps an arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the room next door.
“Sit.” He moves me toward the bed and gently pushes my shoulder.
Sinking down onto the bed, I watch as he dials the front desk. His tone is terse and commanding. It leaves me feeling safe and cared for. My eyes grow heavy as they make arrangements.
“Here, sweet one.”
I look up to find him holding out a hotel robe. I slip my arms in, and he wraps me tight, belting it shut.
“The staff is going to bring your things over, okay?”
I nod, too tired to do much else as the adrenaline wears off. I hear the hotel workers open the door to my room. What feels like minutes later, a knock sounds on West’s door. “Stay here. I’m going to have them put your things here and see what they can do about another room.”
Did his lips brush my forehead? No. I imagining things. The unexpected events have everything turned upside down and convoluted.
They bring my things in quietly and speak in whispered tones before leaving. West returns.
“They’re going to see what else is available for tomorrow. At the moment, everything is booked up.”
“Oh. Where am I going to stay?”
“Here.” He pulls down the sheets. “Get in.”
“I can’t sleep here.”
“Why not? The bed is big enough.” He gestures toward the king-sized bed.
I bite my lower lip.
“You want me to stay above the covers?” he asks playfully.
“Yes. Prove your intentions are pure.”
He grunts. “That’s not the word I’d use.” He shakes the sheets like a bullfighter. “Let’s go.”
I pout. “So bossy.”
“Pot meet kettle?”
My limbs get heavy. “Hmm. I direct with a stern hand because that’s what you need.”
“And you need rest. We’ve got an early morning with team building tours and the McCreepy family.”