Page 103 of Tame Me

His arm was still draped over my torso, and by the bulge pressing against my bottom, I’d say he was quite happy there.

My heart hit panic mode as I realized the sun was almost up. That meant I’d either missed the start of my shift or it was fucking close.

I peeled Hunter’s arm off me, and he groaned as I crawled out from his side.

“Don’t go.”

Oh, God. I kneeled on the bed and kissed his forehead. “Sorry, but I have to work. Thank you for a wonderful night.”

“Call in sick.” He blinked up at me as I pulled on my clothing.

“Can’t. Sorry. But I’ll call you.”

“You better.” The stupid nails hampered my rush to do up my buttons.

“I will. I promise.”

I tossed my bag on my shoulder and raced over to kiss him again. He tried to pull me onto the bed, and I squealed at both the joy and the disaster of it.

I won the tug of war, blew him a kiss, and ran for the door.

My feet couldn’t take me fast enough. Neither could the elevator and when I pulled my phone from my bag and checked the time, I nearly died. I had just twenty minutes before I started work.

In my apartment, I yanked off my wig, scrubbed off my Memphis makeup, and dove into the shower. Five minutes later, I was tugging on my sensible work clothes. I spied Hunter’s gift on the table and was annoyed I didn’t have time to take it up to him.

It just meant I’d have to see him again before Christmas. Yay.

I grabbed a protein bar and my diary, shoved both into my bag and with five minutes to spare, I stepped back into the elevator.

Utilizing my time in the mirror, I tucked my shirt into the pencil skirt, pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, and glided nude lipstick over my swollen lips. My heart was still a thundering gallop when the doors opened, and I strode across the marble tiles.

“Morning, Bailey. How was your night?” Jane Nichols, hotel manager, was back.

“It was pretty steady. Not too bad for a Friday.”

“Excellent. So, what do I need to know?”

We went through the shift-change checklist, and ten minutes later, when I was all alone, I flopped onto the office chair to catch my breath.

Holy hell, that was close.

With a huge sigh, I went to the kitchen to make myself a strong coffee.

With a steaming mug in my hand, I returned to my desk, unwrapped my protein bar, and opened my diary to the 16th of December.

At the top of the page, I wrote Hunter McCall, Room 48.

I started with our fun on the beach, detailed how special I’d felt as he’d teased me with his tongue and fingers. Giggling, I wrote about the beach police catching us and calling us naughty teenagers.

The elevator dinged, and I shoved the diary aside as a family of four tumbled into the lobby with an abundance of suitcases. I went through the process of checking them out and returned to my diary.

I wrote about our incredible sex and how desperate I’d been for him to make love to me.

I think I would’ve imploded if we’d had to stop a second time. Hunter drove me wild. I also wrote about spooning and then falling asleep in his arms and how that was the most magical moment of my life.

As I thought about how special he made me feel, I wrote Hunter Extraordinaire in capital letters at the top of the page.

Hunter really was extraordinary, and I was pretty sure I was in love with him. My heart skipped a beat at that wonderful acknowledgment.

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