Page 123 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

Everyone laughs at that, including me. I take Gibson’s hand, and we proceed to the end of the hall to make my point. He squeezes it in return, and I feel validated.

This is not my usual room. It’smuchnicer. It features a king-sized bed, a bathroom, a fireplace, and a view of the woods. Mostly white with navy and wood accents, it looks like it belongs in a luxury hotel. I give Jeremy a side-eye.Thanks for the upgrade, asshole.

He gives me a sheepish look and asks the billionaire he’s obviously trying to impress, “What do you think?”

Gibson looks caught off guard. “Oh—it’s fantastic. Thank you.”

Drew leans down and whispers near my ear. “VIP treatment.”

“Billionaires, right?” I joke, though I suddenly feel uneasy.

Drew chuckles and gives my back a couple of solid pats.

Of course I realize how wealthy Gibson is—it’s one of those things that’s impossible not to notice, but he feels so down to earth to me. However—when I compare this room with my basement apartment, I can’t help but hope he doesn’t feel like he’sslumming it when he’s with me on my spring-loaded mattress or my well-used sleeper sofa.

“We’ll let you get settled,” Jeremy says with another smile. “The ladies are making sangria and snacks so feel free to come down whenever you’re ready. It’s personal pizza and trivia night, so be prepared to show your skills.”

As the three of them file out of the room, and Jeremy shuts the door, Gibson turns to me. “Personal pizza?”

“We make our own pizzas?” I’m guessing.

“You’re blushing,” he says, approaching me to rest his hands on my hips. “What’s going on?”

I’m not really sure, but as I look into his eyes, my mind does another three-sixty spin. “I’m glad you’re here, but it’s weird.”

His brow furrows. “What’s weird? We don’t have to share a room if?—”

“It’s not even that. Please. We’ll just wind up in bed together anyway. Right?”

“You’re nervous.”

“Am I?” He’s right, though. I am.

“Is it me or them?”

“It’s not—both,” I admit. “I guess I’m not really prepared to answer questions about you and me if they come up.”

“Let me handle it, then.”

“You’re not always gonna necessarily be there. If one of them corners me?—”

“You want me to say I won’t let you out of my sight?”

“No,” I insist. “I’m not gonna make you say anything. Jesus.” I put my hands on his, gently ease them off me, and take a step away. My anxiety is spiking wildly, and it’s unlike anything I’ve felt in years.

After a few seconds of carefully staring at me, he starts for the door.“I’ll give you some space.”

“Gibson, wait—please.”

He leans back on the door, folds his arms, and crosses hisankles. His cheeks are hollow, and he’s staring at the floor. He’s second guessing coming with me. I can tell.

But this is all me, and I don’t need to be alone, I need to settle down. While I’m not sure how to do that, or why I’m suddenly so worked up, his leaving me to stew in it won’t help.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe I could use some sangria.”

“You sure that’s all you need?”

---