Page 87 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

The bastard knew the effect his proximity had on her, and Allison didn’t know whether to be aroused or annoyed.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the tiny shower, leaving Allison alone to her thoughts, and extremely dangerous thing.

She quickly finished her own shower, wrapping a towel around herself and heading for the nightstand. She reached for the hotel room service menu, a smile forming on her lips as she felt, more than saw, Angelo’s gaze following her.

“See something you like?” she teased, looking up from the menu.

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just spend almost two hours proving how much Ilikeyou?”

“Touché,” she said, flipping through the menu. “So, what do you feel like? Something we can share, maybe?”

“Definitely. How about pasta?” Angelo suggested.

“Pasta sounds perfect,” she agreed, grabbing the hotel phone. “As long as we steer clear of any weird fruit combinations.”

“Agreed,” he said, sitting on the bed and leaning back against the plush pillows, already wearing his black underwear. He looked likehewas about to be her next meal.

Allison dialed room service, her eyes never leaving Angelo’s. “Hi, we’d like to order some pasta, please. Yes, a large portion of the fettuccine Alfredo and a bottle of your finest wine. Thank you.”

She hung up the phone and sauntered over to the bed, her towel not-so-accidentally falling off along the way.

“You know,” she said, climbing onto the bed and straddling his legs. “I might just skip the pasta and go straight for dessert.”

Angelo grinned, and her core clenched around nothing as his hands found her waist. “Now that’s a menu I can get behind.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Oh, I bet you can.”

Their lips met in a slow, tantalizing kiss, the anticipation building as their hands explored each other’s bodies. Angelo’s cock began pulsing beneath her, slowly hardening as she rubbed herself on him shamelessly.

Just as things were heating up, a knock on the door interrupted them. Allison groaned softly, pulling back.

“Room service is fast.”

Angelo sighed, giving her one last lingering kiss before gently nudging her off him. “Hold that thought. I’ll get the food.”

He slipped on a robe and walked to the door, returning with a tray laden with pasta, breadsticks, and the promised bottle of wine. He set it on the small table by the window, the city lights creating a romantic backdrop.

Allison grabbed the wine and took a seat back on the plush bed, pouring them each a glass.

“To meeting strangers in bars,” she toasted light-hearted, raising her glass.

“Cheers to that,” Angelo said, clinking his glass against hers.

After a third round, they both fell asleep, exhaustion taking over for them until Allison woke with Angelo’s head between her legs.

Then they fucked again, slept if off, and repeated that same routine well into the morning, each round accompanied by a few glasses of wine.

When Allison woke up the next morning, it was to the blaring sound of her phone’s alarm. She groaned, groping blindly to turn it off, only to find her phone wasn’t in its usual spot on the nightstand. With a start, she sat up, her heart rate skyrocketing as she scanned the room. Her panic only deepened when her gaze landed on the back of a sleeping figure beside her—a man whose face she couldn’t recall, a man she didn’t know at all.

Her head pounded as the alarm continued to shriek, drilling the realization of what she’d done into her aching skull.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut as if that might undo the situation.

A singular thought filled her head as she left the hotel room minutes later:I hope I don’t regret this.

Twenty-Two

ALLISON

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