Page 15 of Property of Azrael

“There’s only one bed.”

His lips turn up in a smirk. “I can see that.”

“But there’s only one bed,” I repeat, pointing to the issue directly. “You don’t see that as a problem?”

Azrael looks to where I’ve cornered myself in the hallway, his cut, angular jaw twitching. “This isn’t as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. It’s a bed. We’re adults. We can share it.”

“You want us to share a bed?”

It was hard enough feeling all that corded muscle of his stomach and back as we were riding. I’ve written about attractive, muscular men for years now, but experiencing the raw power of his body while on his Harley was something entirely different. I committed the way I felt, and the way he felt, to memory. If the fates were dead set on me living out trope after trope on this trip, I could at least put it to good use later. Much, much later, when my sanity returns and this screwy trip ends.

“Is there an echo in here?” he grumbles. “The offer still stands, Hallie. You can have the entire room to yourself.”

“No, no. I said you can stay, and I’m not changing my mind.”

I just have to come to terms with the fact that a literal book boyfriend will be in the same bed with me later tonight. The only solace I have is that men like him didn’t go for women like me. They want blondes with big boobs and perfect round asses. I have none of those things.

“You sure? Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

“It’s fine,” I insist.

“Then I like the left side.”

“I’m good with whatever.”

Moving into the room, I walk to the unoccupied side of the bed and begin tucking my meager belongings into the bedside table drawers. Azrael disappears into the bathroom, so I take a seat on the bed and rub my hands over my face.

None of this felt real until now. Until we stepped into this room together. It’s not a dream. This is really happening. I’m alone with an MC President at a hotel.

I text Eden the address of where we’re staying.

How was the ride?

Fine.

That’s all you have to say? Really, Hallie? You’re living every reader’s dream right now, being rescued by an MC. How are you not more excited? It’s living book research.

I know Eden, but this whole thing just feels wrong.

Enjoy it. Better yet, enjoy him. He’s hot, right? Thank that man properly for the ride, and then you’ll part ways when you get to Houston. It’s as simple as that. A great night for you, and firsthand experience for your next book.

I shake my head. Eden is all about sex. To her, sex fixes everything, as she shows in her books. But the last thing I need to do is follow her advice. I don’t know Azrael. He could have a girlfriend, or a wife and kids at home, for Christ’s sake. The thought turns my stomach.

Am I sharing a bed with a married man?

I know nothing about him.

Three dots pop up as Eden types, so I patiently wait for her to give me yet another reason I should lean into Azrael to scratch an itch. The sound of the bathroom door opening startles me. I toss my phone on the bed. Azrael emerges from the bathroom. All it takes is one glance, and he’s staring.

“Why are you doing this?” The question comes out too fast. A word vomit of anxiety I didn’t catch in time.

“Doing what?”

“This,” I say, fanning out my hands to the surrounding room. “The ride, the room… I don’t get it. I mean, I appreciate you helping me get to my event, but what’s in it for you?”

Azrael crosses the room and joins me on the bed. It dips with his added weight, but he’s careful to keep his distance, leaving a comfortable space between us.

“Has no one ever done something nice for you?”

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