Jules was still silently flirting with Ski Bro, but she tore her eyes away from him at my comment. “If you think I’m having sex right now, it’s no wonder women leave your room unsatisfied.”
Touché.
A small smile played on my lips. If adventure sports were my physical release, sparring with Jules was my mental one. Nothing else gave me quite the same rush.
“Women leave my room feeling all sorts of things, but I guarantee unsatisfied isn’t one of them.”
“That’s what men always think,” she scoffed. “I regret to inform you they’re probably faking it.”
“I can tell the difference between a fake orgasm and a real one, JR.”
“So you’re saying women have faked orgasms with you.” Her voice was all sugar and arsenic.
“My first few times.” I wasn’t embarrassed by the fact. Everyone started at zero. “But practice makes perfect. Maybe you’ll find out for yourself one day, if you’re lucky.”
Jules gagged as we followed Alex and Ava out of the lobby to our lodge. “Don’t make me throw up. We just got here, and I despise vomit.”
A laugh rumbled in my throat. She was so fucking easy to rile up.
But when we arrived at the lodge, my laugh died in the face of hiccup number two: the pullout couch was not, in fact, a pullout. It was just a damn couch, which meant there were only two rooms for the four of us, and every possible pairing sounded worse than the last.
“I can room with Jules.” Ava slanted an apologetic glance in Alex’s direction. “You and Josh can share.”
“No.” I would rather swim naked in the icy river bordering the resort than room with Alex.
“What’s the alternative?” she argued. “I don’t want to spend all day debating room assignments.”
There were only two other options. I could room with Ava or Jules. If I roomed with Ava, Alex and Jules would have to be roommates, and that was fucking weird.
“I’ll share with JR.” I jerked my head in Jules’s direction. “You and Alex take the master. The guest bedroom has two beds, so we’ll make it work.”
It wasn’t ideal, but it was the least terrible choice.
Jules echoed my sentiment with as much enthusiasm as a mouse entering a snake’s cage.
“You sure?” Ava was fully aware of the animosity between us, and she was probably picturing us murdering each other in our sleep.
It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“Yep. Let’s just get this over with so we can hit the slopes.” We wouldn’t be in our rooms much, anyway. I could just turn in for the night and pretend Jules wasn’t there.
Unfortunately, the universe and its fucked up sense of humor had different plans.
When we opened the door to the guest bedroom, we were greeted with hiccup number three, AKA the worst thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.
“No fucking way,” Jules said at the same time I growled, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Because sitting smack dab in the middle of an otherwise beautiful room, piled high with fluffy pillows and a luxurious navy comforter, was a four-poster bed.
Bed. Singular. As in, there was only one.
And I had to share it with Jules Ambrose.
Kill me now.