Page 36 of Moonlit Temptation

It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t tense. If anything, I felt the lightest I had in years.

“That was some good morning.” I ran my hands down his back, feeling the incisions my nails made last night.

A weird look crossed his face, but before I could ask what was wrong, my stomach rumbled.

“Let’s get some food in you.” Still on top of me, he stretched for the phone on the bedside table to dial room service.

He didn’t ask for my order, already knowing my breakfast go-to. Waffles and a bowl of fruit. The only time there was an exception was if chicken and waffles was on the menu. Which it wasn’t. I checked yesterday.

Once our order was placed, Saint rolled off me to get in the shower.

I was half tempted to join him. The inviting look he cast over his shoulder as he walked in there conveyed he wouldn’t have minded, but as I was about to roll out of bed, I heard my phone ping with a notification.

Panic seized me, wanting to ignore it.

If I checked my phone, I was letting in the outside world, which could pop the bubble Saint and I created around this hotel room.

I wasn’t ready for it to pop.

I was greedy when it came to time. When it came to Saint.

But my phone pinged again and again, like the person trying to reach me sensed my hesitation and wasn’t going to let me get away with it.

Picking up my phone, I wished I hadn’t.

The person who was blowing up my notifications was none other than the king of worst timing.

My brother.

Fuck.

Seeing Archer’s name on my phone sent me into a panic. Grabbing the loose bed sheet that had fallen onto the floor, I fashioned it into a poorly executed toga around my body.

I couldn’t answer the phone naked.

I couldn’t answer the phone at all.

I held the device in a death grip, unsure of what to do.

Actually, that was a lie.

I knew what I wanted to do.

I wanted to throw my phone across the room, watching as it smashed to pieces against the wall, pretending I never saw it.

Except now the phone was ringing.

Jesus Christ, I think this was the first time Archer had ever worked this hard to talk to me.

The phone rang in my hand while I remained immobile, stuck staring at the screen. It wasn’t until the last ring before voicemail that I answered.

“Hello?”

“Jesus H. Motherfucking Christ, Mads.” Archer’s voice was a mixture of relief and frustration. Heavy sighs and harsh tones. “I thought something happened to you.”

“You did?” My brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been trying to call you since Dad’s thing ended and you haven’t answered.”

---