Page 4 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

I pray the towel falls off.

It doesn’t.

“Sorry,” he says, smiling at me again.

Holyshitis it a charming smile.

“Too cold to keep wet shorts on,” he says. “Poppy doing a good job of showing you around? She show you where the booze is yet?”

There’s now an impressive lump beneath the towel and oh God I amdefinitelythinking about his dick. I’m thinking bad, dirty thoughts about it, and also about the rest of him.

I drag my eyes to his face at last, hoping that I haven’t turned bright red.

“Not yet!” I say, smiling. I’m probably smiling like a maniac.

“Well, I’ll let her do that, then,” he says. “I should go get dressed before lunch.”

With that, Dalton saunters off into the main hotel, holding the towel with one hand and his wet swim trunks with the other.

I will the towel to fall off.

It still doesn’t happen.

“Those boys,” Poppy says fondly. “Such nice young men.”

“Yes,” I agree, practically craning my neck to watch Dalton walk away. “Really nice.”

Boys.

Plural.

There’s no way theotherthree are this hot, is there?

Chapter Three

Larkin

“And,obviously, there’s no linen service during the retreat because the five of you are the only ones here, but you know where the laundry room is, and the linen closet is two doors down the hall to your left…”

Poppy is still talking, but I’ve opened the curtains and I’m checking out the view from my room.

No, not a room. It’s a suite, complete with a bedroom and a sitting area. Everything is dark wood and buttery-soft leather, and the placefeelslike it was made for mining barons in the 1890s. The bathroom has a shower that’s so full of knobs and levers that it’s going to take me a while to figure out, along with a jacuzzi that’s already calling my name.

And the view.Wow, the view. Even today — when it’s cloudy and snowing — it’s majestic as hell, all craggy peaks and deep valleys, the play of light against the snow and granite nearly magical.

I’m not a landscape artist, but I might have to try my hand at a couple while I’m here. It would be criminalnotto.

“Thanks,” I tell Poppy. “You got all the supplies I sent ahead, right?”

“They’re in the Lodestone Room downstairs, dear,” she says. “I chose that one because it’s got wood floors, not carpet, and that seems best for a painter—”

She’s interrupted by a knock on the door. My stomach tightens, and my brain immediately flashes to Dalton, standing there, wearing nothing but a towel and a grin.

I wonder if he’d pose nude for a painting.

Heat floods my cheeks instantly, just at the thought of asking him to get naked. I’ve painted plenty of nudes, of course, but they were always of regular people, not beautiful Greek gods somehow come to life.

Stop it, Larkin, I tell myself sternly.

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