Page 26 of Sinful Escape

Oh faarkk!

Those people were still there.

Staring right at me.

Chapter Six

Gritting my teeth and fighting waves of embarrassment, I dragged my body back into the kitchen.

I grabbed my bra and stuffed it into my bag. I should have stopped and put it on, but I had to get out of there. Flinging my handbag strap over my shoulder, I clutched my shirt closed and turned to Pierre. “Au revoir, Pierre.”

With my eyes forward and my heart in my throat, I dashed out the door.

I scurried up the street clutching my bag to my chest like a junkie in paranoid mode. Thank God I didn’t have to go far. I must’ve looked like a complete nutter. Yet nobody seemed to care. Everyone I passed appeared to be on their own mission anyway.

As I stepped through the hostel doors, I prayed I wouldn’t see anybody I knew and blew out a breath when I made it to the elevator unimpeded. Jabbing the button a dozen times, I glanced over my shoulder like a thief on the run. The doors closed and I turned to the mirror.

My pupils were wide, and my hair was wild. I looked like I’d tumbled off a rollercoaster and landed in a hedge. My heart thumped in my ears, and my chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. I had come off a rollercoaster . . . an epic, emotional one.

I could still feel Pierre’s hands caressing my breasts, gliding up my inner thighs, nudging my sacred zone. Closing my eyes, I pictured our kiss. My insides squirmed at how wonderful he’d tasted. I’d been so aroused that if I hadn’t heard those people cackling, I probably would’ve had sex with him right there in the kitchen.

Shit. I’ll never be able to visit that restaurant again.

The elevator doors opened, and I stumbled out. My blood drained. Roman was right there.

“There you are. I was looking for you.” His eyebrows launched upward. His eyes widened. “Hey . . . are you okay?”

Oh, God. “Yes, yes I’m fine.” Resisting the urge to dive back into the elevator, I stepped into the hallway.

Placing his hand on my arm, he gave a gentle squeeze. “I can tell you’re not. What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“No. Nothing like that. I tripped over, that’s all.”

He tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed as if he’d seen right through my lie. “Tell me what happened.”

I squeezed my bag tighter to my tits. “What’re you doing here?” Deflecting questions were usually my savior. “I thought you went out with the Americans.”

His honey eyes softened as they met mine. “I came to apologize for what I said upstairs.”

“Oh. It’s okay, it?—”

“No, it wasn’t okay. I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

When he frowned, and his eyes narrowed, I realized I’d accepted too quickly, making him even more suspicious. His gaze trailed down to my bag, still clutched across my chest. “What’s wrong with your bag?”

“Oh, ummm, nothing.”

“Daisy, I have four sisters, and I can tell when something is wrong with any one of them. I’m not stupid. What happened? I need to know you’re all right.”

“I am. I just fell over, that’s?—”

“Liar.” Golden flecks flared in his eyes.

I gasped. “I beg your pardon.”

“I can tell you’re lying. You have the worst poker face.”

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