July
Griff and I just finished an intense evening workout in the hotel’s gym, and nothing sounds better right now than a scalding hot shower.
I’m just about to tap my keycard to open the door when I hear a noise from inside the room that makes my step falter.
“Yes!” I hear Dakota moan.
“Carson, please!”
Did she just—did she just say my name? While she’s. . .
“Fuck! Carson, yes! Don’t stop!”
Holy fucking shit. She did.My hands tremble with need. I tell myself the right thing to do is walk away, yet my feet remain frozen to the spot.
“Oh, gimme a break!” Dakota growls.
That is one of the oddest things I’ve heard a woman say while climaxing. However, she sounds more frustrated than anything.
I swipe my keycard over the lock on the door. “Are you still awake, Austen?” I whisper as I cautiously enter the room.
There is a rustling of her sheets, followed by a drawer slamming shut. “Yep, wide awake,” she huffs.
“And about as happy as a hornet. What’s wrong?” I ask, but once I take her in under the glow of the lamplight, I can see it written all over her face—hell, I can feel the frustration coming off of her in waves.
“Nothing.” She crosses her arms, making her sleep tank slide down to expose her supple breasts.
I can’t help but take my fill of her as she stands from the bed. She’s in a matching white cotton sleep set, and I can tell she’s braless from the way the hard buds of her nipples are beckoning me. I’m a boob guy. Sue me. I have zero shame as my gaze remains fixated on her chest. “Yeah, I’m not buying it. I have a sister, remember? I know better than to fall for the ‘nothing’ response,” I say, using air quotes for emphasis.
“Eyes up here, Mr. Wilder,” she teases.
Snapping my eyes up to meet hers, I don’t miss the seductive smirk on her lips or the playful glint in her eyes.
“What. Is. Wrong?” I grind out the question.
“Now you sound like the one who can’t get off,” she says, clearly regretting letting me in on that tidbit because her hands fly up to cover her mouth.
“Can’t get off?”
She throws her head back, groaning, and not in the way I’d like her to. “Ugh, couldn’t you just be a gentleman and act like you didn’t hear me say that?”
“I told you, I’m no Southern gentleman. Why can’t you get off? Did I interrupt?”
“No, it wasn’t that. I don’t even know why I’m standing here having this conversation with you,” she bites out.
Holding my hands up in surrender, I say, “Alright, my bad. I’m pretty sore from my workout and all the travel, so I’m going to take a quick shower. Do you need anything from the bathroom before I head in there?”
She shakes her head. “No, I already got ready for bed. Thanks though.”
I nod in response and grab a pair of clean shorts from the dresser to change into after my shower. I’m just about to shut the bathroom door behind me when Dakota calls out, “Shoot, wait.”
Figuring she forgot something, I step out of the bathroom.
“I’m sorry for making things weird by . . . you know. Anyway, I’m also sorry for snapping at you. It’s not your fault I’m broken.”
“Broken?” I question in disbelief.
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. Can I make it up to you?” She bites her bottom lip as she awaits my response.
