Cocky Bastard
Page 4

“What did you pick up?”
“Nothing.” He blew off my question. “Driver picks the music.” We pulled away from the curb.
“You changed the station every five minutes while I was driving.”
He shrugged and smiled. “It’s a new rule.”
Being in the passenger seat gave me an opportunity to study him. God those dimples were deep. And the bit of stubble starting to shadow his chiseled jaw worked for me. Really worked. There was a good chance he’d be driving an awful lot.
Three hours later, it was almost midnight when we decided to stop for the day. We’d made it as far as I’d planned, even with having to waste a few hours getting a new tire.
The woman at the reception desk of the hotel was busy playing a game on her phone and barely looked up at us when we approached.
“We’d like a room for tonight, please?” Chance said.
“Ummm…two rooms, please,” I clarified.
“What? I was going to get one with two beds.”
“I am not sharing a room with you.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And turned his attention back to the front desk clerk. “She’s afraid if we room together, she won’t be able to keep her hands off of me.” He winked at her. She had dark skin, but I could see her blush anyway.
I rolled my eyes, too tired to fight with him again and spoke to the clerk, “Can you make my room facing west, not on the ground floor, and an even number, if possible?”
“I’d like mine with a bed, toilet and television, if that’s possible.” He grinned, bating me.
“I can give you rooms 217 and 218. They’re right next to each other.”
“Perfect. She likes to be close to me.”
I wasn’t sure if his egomaniacal sense of humor was growing on me or if I was just slap happy from so many hours in the car, but I actually laughed a little.
He looked pleased.
The clerk handed us our keys along with a warm chocolate chip cookie each. On our way to the elevator, I offered him mine. “Want my cookie? I’m not going to eat it.”
“Sure. I’ll eat you.”
“What did you just say?”
“I said I’d eat yours.”
I really needed to get some sleep. And perhaps a nice cold shower.
He toted both our overnight bags to our rooms, and it wasn’t lost on me that he let me in and out of the elevator before him. Cocky Bastard had manners to go with his arrogance.
“Night, Princess.”
“Night, Cocky.”
I was glad he didn’t say my name; I was bothered enough just sleeping next door to him.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d completed my bedtime ritual and slipped into bed. I took a deep breath in and out and let myself sink into the softness of the mattress.
A knock at the door made me jump.
With a huff, I got out of bed and stood on my tiptoes to look out the peephole. Why were those things always so high on the door anyway? I was surprised to find no one standing on the other side. Maybe I’d imagined it.
Another knock.
I flicked on the lights. The sound wasn’t coming from the entrance door. It was coming from an interior door I hadn’t even noticed before.
Chance’s door.
I unfastened the top lock and cracked it open just enough so I could see what he wanted. And there he stood.
Shirtless.
Wearing only dark gray boxer briefs that hugged him like a second skin.
It took a minute to understand what he was doing there, even though he was holding up a toothbrush in question.
“I thought we had established I wasn’t a serial killer already.”
I opened the door wider.
He smiled.
Oh lord. Stop that. Right now.
“I must have left my toothpaste in my saddlebag in the car.”
I swallowed hard. “Uh huh.”
He cocked his head to the side, and his brows dipped in. “Can I borrow yours?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”
He walked past me and let himself into my bathroom. I waited at the door.
“You got an awful lot of girly crap in here for one night,” he said with a jumbled mouth full of toothpaste from the bathroom. “Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia.”
He was reading my Estee Lauder perfume bottle.
I heard him rinse and spit. Then there was a gargling sound. He used my mouthwash, too. Sure, help yourself.
He walked out and flicked off the bathroom light. “Is tuberose a rose?”
I shook my head, still confused by the whole situation going on.
“That’s why,” he murmured.
“Why what?”
“I couldn’t figure out what you smelled like all day. Not sure I ever smelled a Tuberose before.” He shrugged and walked back into his room but not before turning back. “Even those little black lacy underwear smell like tuberose.”
My eyes bulged. I’d taken off my bra and panties and left them on the bathroom counter.
“You…you—”
“Relax. I’m teasing. Do I look like an underwear sniffer to you?”
Yes.
No.
Maybe?
“Night, Aubrey.” He graced me with a dimple and disappeared.
AH-BREE. Damn him.
I locked the door and checked it twice, unclear if it was for my safety or his. His voice saying my name was on audio replay inside my head, getting softer and softer like a soothing lullaby with each breath as I drifted off to dreamland.
Until the knock came again.
I think I might have actually fallen asleep for all of three seconds before getting up to open the door. Again.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
My room was pitch dark; he had every light in his room on. It took my eyes a minute to adjust. And when they did, they focused right on his underwear. Instead of saying no and shutting the door, I argued with him. Again.
“I’m not watching a movie with you in your underwear.”
He looked down and back up at me. “What? It’s not like I have an erection.”
My eyes widened at the inappropriateness of his comment, but then I started picturing him in his ridiculously tight underwear with an erection. Suddenly, I had no place to look. If I looked down, I was staring at his package. If I looked up at him, he’d surely see what I was thinking.
He chuckled. “I’ll put shorts on.”
I had no idea why I was even negotiating, when I really had no desire to watch a movie. He disappeared and came back a minute later with a pair of loose hanging shorts. I could still see the rim of his Calvin Klein underwear band sticking out. And now that there were no tight undies to focus on, I realized the shorts actually made it worse. They hung from the valley on his narrow hips where a deep V was carved. Covering up his tight buns only left me to pay more attention to the details of his chest. And his ridiculous abs.
“Your turn,” he said.
My eyes asked for clarification.
“If I can’t be in my underwear, you have to change out of that night shirt.”
“What’s wrong with my shirt?” My voice was defensive.
His eyes dropped to my chest and the corners of his lips curled to a delicious wicked grin. “Nothing at all. By all means, keep it on.”
I looked down, having forgotten that I was wearing a thin white shirt with no bra. My nipples were standing at full attention, trying to pierce through the sheer fabric.