His thumb on her chin gently guided her gaze to his. “Look, Wren, it’s okay. If you’re not comfortable, we don’t take the room. No problem. I mean that.”
His gray eyes were warm. Sincere.
He did mean it, she knew. He wouldn’t begrudge her a refusal, no matter how disappointed he might be.
But if she agreed, she’d undoubtedly make him very happy. Which would, in turn, make her happy, at least in the moment, and also allow her to avoid a repeat of the evening’s earlier, extremely unfortunate, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” Incident.
She was tired. She was stiff from a long day in the car. And damn it, she wanted to know how it felt to share a bed with him. Just once.
She let out a slow breath, then turned to the waiting clerk.
“Let’s do it,” she said, and jumped again at Alex’s elated whoop.
Maybe it wasn’t the wisest answer, but it was her answer. The right answer.
At least for tonight.
21
ALEX EXHALED AS HE PACED, AND HE COULD ACTUALLY SEE the puff of air. Even though it was July. In California.
Well, he couldn’t say the kid at the front desk had misled them. The small room contained only one full-size bed and no couch. Its air conditioner chugged away at full blast no matter which setting he chose. And as the clerk had informed them while pressing the key into Wren’s hand, the windows were indeed painted shut.
The room felt like the world’s smallest hockey rink. Under normal circumstances, he’d be bitching nonstop. But since they were only staying there because of him …
Well, he’d only complain occasionally.
Behind the room’s flimsy bathroom door, Wren was showering. Hopefully under the hottest water she could stand, because those sheets were going to feel like ice.
The sheets they’d soon be under. Together.
Shit, he couldn’t keep staring at the door. It was damn creepy. And if he continued imagining rivulets of steamy water running down her lush, wet, naked body, no amount of glacial cold could prevent his own body from visibly responding, and he didn’t want to scare her away when she emerged from the bathroom.
She’d trusted him enough to share a bed. He wouldn’t violate that trust.
Resolutely turning away from the bathroom door, Alex got out his phone and occupied himself by uploading the day’s videos on various platforms, tagging Carah wherever possible.
The sound of running water stopped, and he bit his lip.
The towering pile of extra blankets they’d carried to their room and spread over the bed might keep her warm. But if the blankets weren’t enough …
No, he wouldn’t think about it. He couldn’t. Not when she was coming out so soon, her soft skin damp and flushed with heat, almost like they’d just been—
Nope. No. No.
When she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, dragging her suitcase behind her, she was wearing one of her oversized T-shirt nightgowns and a new pair of leggings. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, but he suspected she wasn’t wearing a bra this time. Maybe not panties either, and that was a thought he was going to do his very best to forget.
“Ahhhhhhh.” When her eyes flew to his, he grinned at her. “My just-one-bedmate returns.”
The edges of her hair had become wet. Random strands were sticking to her rosy cheeks and neck, and within moments, those bits would feel like icicles against her skin. So would the air. So would the wooden floor.
Sure enough, as soon as she registered the absurdly low temperature in the main room, her face immediately pinched into a pained grimace, and she made a sort of gasping squeak.
“Holy crap,” she breathed, immediately starting to shiver.
He would not check what the cold had done to her nipples. He would not.
She wasn’t wearing socks or slippers, and she sort of bounced on her tiptoes to the bed, trying to make as little contact with the floor as possible before hurriedly ripping back the mountain of covers, diving inside, and yanking everything up again.
Covered to just below her eyeballs, she peered at him from her nest, her brows beetled in chilly outrage.
She was fucking adorable, and he couldn’t help laughing.
“Stow it, Woodroe,” she snapped from beneath a billion blankets.
He held up his hands, palms out. “Hey, now. I merely welcomed your return to Elsa’s California retreat. Otherwise, I didn’t say a word.”
“Whatever.” Her muffled voice was grumpy as hell, and that was even more adorable. “In my defense, I didn’t know I should bring pajamas suitable for company. Or arctic conditions. I think they used a Zamboni on these sheets. Holy crap.”