“Wow,” Brittany says as soon as he’s out of earshot.
I spin to face her. “Why did you tell him about The Eager Beaver?”
She rolls her green eyes. “Oh, please. That man is pure fire. You could use a little fun. And besides, he was totally into you.”
There’s no way I’m his type. “No, he wasn’t.” Men like him probably have a harem of women garbed in leather bras and assless chaps.
She stares at me with her face deadpanned. “Um, yes, he was. Any fool could see it.”
“Well, then you’re a fool because I didn’t see it. He was just being friendly.”
At that moment, we hear the roar of a motorcycle rumbling to life outside. A few seconds later, Ruin pulls away, most likely to park his bike closer to his room, and I can’t help but think about him all alone in his bed tonight.
What would he do if I knocked on his door with some extra towels? Would he let me in or turn me away?
Obviously, I’m just horny. I haven’t had sex in over a year, not since my last boyfriend left me for a friend. As much as I may want to knock on Ruin’s door late at night, I’d never have the courage to do it. I could never be so brazen.
Could I?
“I’m going to head out for the night. You have my cell if anything happens.”
Brittany winks. “Yeah, but I know not to use it.”
I slip in the office and grab my purse, but before I can make it around the reception counter, he’s back.
“Long time no see,” I say, because I just have no seduction skills at all.
He crosses the floor like he owns it and leans over the desk with purpose. The heady scent of leather envelopes me. Briefly, I envision his large hand sliding around my neck and pulling me in for a devouring kiss.
Nothing of the sort happens.
“What time’s checkout?”
“Eleven.”
“Can I get a later checkout? I plan on staying up… late.” He raises an eyebrow again—must be his signature move—and it’s a really nice eyebrow. Not too thick with a slight scar slashing through the corner by his temple. It’s edgy.
Once again, Brittany sneaks a kick to my ankle, dragging me out of my ridiculous attraction to his eyebrow.
“Let me check.” I pull up his reservation. “I can move you to one. Will that work?”
“You tell me,” he murmurs. “Do you think one is a sufficient check out time?”
I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water. “Yes?” I finally answer. “Yes, that’ll work out fine.”
“I appreciate how accommodating you are. It’s a rarity.”
“Well, that's my job. To ensure your stay is pleasurable.”
He licks his lips, and everything sounds laden with sexual innuendo coming from his mouth. “I’m extremely pleased, so far.”
My pulse pounds in my ears, and then I confirm my lack of seduction skills by saying, “That’s wonderful to hear. Maybe you could leave a review on our site? Every review helps.”
He seems unfazed by my request. “Will do.”
The only sound is the thudding of his boots on the hardwoods as he walks toward the door, but then he pivots, hands landing on his hips. “Would it be possible to get some extra towels delivered to my room?”
“Um, sure,” I squeak out.
“Thanks.” His eyes drop to my hardened nipples. “I’ll probably need a few cold showers.” Before he leaves for real, he glances over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”
Brittany whips her head to me. “Girl, why are you still standing here? Go gather towels.”
“What? No. I can’t take him towels.”
“Why? One night with Ruin could loosen you up and no one would ever have to know.”
“I’m loose.” I shimmy my body as if that will make it true. “I’m just not that kind of loose. I should get going.” But my feet don’t move, because they really want to head to the hospitality closet so I can grab towels, power-walk to his room, and request to watch him shower.
“Think about it,” she says with a dreamy look in her eye. “Sweet little you getting dirty with a Diamond King.”
I tilt my head. “Diamond King?”
“You didn’t notice his cut?”
“Well, yes, I saw the scar on his eyebrow.”
She lets out a hearty laugh. “A cut is his vest, silly. It had the Diamond Kings logo. How does a mom with three kids know this and you don’t? Don’t you read books or watch Sons of Anarchy?”
The better question is, why is a mom with three kids so much cooler than me? “There’s no way I can take him towels. Besides, I have to get ready for line-dancing.”
“Mhm, and he’ll be there. So better prepare yourself.”
“I don’t care if he is. He’s not my type.”
That’s a bold-faced lie. I’ve always thought I didn’t have a type—would probably marry some boring guy with gelled hair and loafers—but that was before I saw Ruin. Judging by what’s going on in my nether regions, a more perfect type for me doesn’t exist. But that doesn’t mean I can act upon it. I have campaign responsibilities and a “wholesome” role to play. In other words, I’m very busy being bored.