Page 3 of Between the Lines

I sit on the very edge of my seat. He smiles a little and sinks to the chair across from me. He occupies all of it. Settles in, long legs stretched out, both arms draped along the armrests.

I focus on the sleeve of his leather jacket. His hand, curved over the edge.

“So,” he says. “We’re two people, and there’s only one room.”

“I’ve never been at a hotel where this has happened to me before.”

He nods. “Yeah. Me neither. But it seems like the water pressure at this place is excellent.”

Heat races up my cheeks, and my gaze snaps to his.

“How are we going to settle this?” he asks. “Only one room, and the sun has already set outside. It’s a long drive to the nearest vacant hotel.”

His implication is clear, and I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not sharing.”

“Oh, of course you’re not.” He leans forward, and something glitters in his eyes. “We’ll play a game for it.”

CHAPTER 2

CHARLOTTE

“A game,” I repeat slowly.

He looks around the lobby. For a moment, I suspect he’s going to flag down a waiter, but he just makes eye contact with one instead. Nods his head a little. “Yes. A bit of friendly… betting.”

“You can’t be serious.” Embarrassment and irritation make my words come out sharper than I intended.

“Why not? This makes the evening more interesting.” His lips tip up in a half smile, and it makes him even more handsome. “Have you eaten?”

I shake my head mutely.

“We can start with that.” The waiter arrives with menus and the man orders a bourbon. He looks at me.

A punch of fear hits me, right below the breastbone, accompanied by adrenaline. It makes everything feel sweeter. “A glass of red wine, please.”

I look at him over the edge of my menu. Noticing the thick black hair and the straight eyebrows. His beard looks good, and his face has a light tan, the look of someone who’s spent a good week outdoors.

He’s large. A few inches taller than me. Broad across the shoulders, something that’s emphasized by his leather jacket. I suddenly feel acutely aware of that. Just like the fact that he saw me naked only a while ago.

Pleasuring myself.

I should win an award just for having a normal conversation with this man, without blushing or racing out of the room.

He’s looking at his own menu. “I don’t know your name,” he says without lifting his eyes.

I hesitate only for a moment. “Charlotte.”

“Charlotte,” he repeats. “Chaosfits you, then.”

“That’s not my nickname.”

A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Sure it’s not.”

I want to roll my eyes; it’s with a valiant effort that I manage to resist. I’m sure I’ve sprained something in the effort. “What’s your name?”

“Aiden.”

The waiter returns with our drinks. I hold my wineglass against my chest like it’s a shield. “You want us to play a game for the room?”

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