Closed.
“Son of a bitch.” I growl.
I can pick some up tomorrow, but I need one right now.
Running back down the stairs, I stop at the floor I know Grant is on. As I pound on the door, I’m praying to God he has one.
He opens the door looking pissed as fuck.
“What the fuck, man?” he whisper yells at me.
“I need a fucking condom.”
He shakes his head. “Seriously, man?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
He glances down, wincing when he sees my obvious hard-on.
“I don’t have any. Dude, I’ve been with Nessa for years. We haven’t used them in a long time. She’s on birth control.”
I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck, man. What the fuck am I supposed to do? The shops are closed. Fuck.”
“You could call your steward.”
“Because that wouldn’t be awkward at all.” I deadpan.
He shakes his head. “Hold on. Let me think.”
He mumbles under his breath a couple of minutes before heading back into the room, coming back with his keycard.
Then he walks several rooms down. When he looks back at me, he shakes his head again.
“You’re going to owe me for this.”
Then he pounds on the door.
I don’t see who is on the other side, but Grant barks at them, “I need a condom.”
The person must disappear inside because all I see is a hand slamming a whole sleeve of condoms to Grant’s chest.
“Thanks, bro.”
As he heads back toward me, the person peeks their head out to watch him go.
We both freeze when our eyes meet.
Fuck. It’s Barrett.
His eyes narrow as anger fills them. Then he moves back, slamming his door.
“Here. Now can I go back to sleep?”
I snort. “You should be fucking your woman.”
“I’ll leave the fucking to you, Casanova.”
“He’s going to cause shit tomorrow,” I say, nodding down the hall.
