Page 68 of Totally Off Limits

“Yeah. So the Sedgwick, huh?”

“I told you I wanted a shower—and probably the best way to convince you to join me is at a place like this.”

While he attached the helmet to the bike, Sierra questioned his words. Had she become as bad as her parents? Did shehaveto be surrounded by luxury and the finer things? She might have been a lot of things, but she’d never been a spoiled brat. “The Twin Mountain Lodge would have been just fine.”

Walking toward the entrance, Mickey’s hand on her back, he said, “But no Super 8, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

What exactly did he mean by that? As they approached the revolving glass door, she decided not to say anything. Maybe his words were simply the best reminder that the two of them ultimately didn’t belong together. They were night and day, hot and cold, bad boy and good girl.

Perhaps even Super 8 and the Sedgwick.

But at least he’d figured out her preferences—not that it would be that difficult. Still, though—would the Super 8 at the entrance to town have been so bad? Surely, it would be clean and have a bed.

Maybethatwas the problem. While she’d never been in a room at the Sedgwick, she’d seen pictures. The rooms were beautiful and luxurious—and maybe Mickey didn’t want Sierra to feel like nothing more than a quick fuck. A place like this could definitely mask their intentions.

As they approached the ornate front desk, Sierra tried not to think about how Mickey definitelylookedmore respectable—like the sort of person the hotel would prefer to have as a guest.

Meaning not who he’d looked like before: a bad boy rocker, nothing but trouble.

Sierra had to admit that he was just as gorgeous with short hair. More than that, though, she knew deep down that she actually preferred it longer. And why was that?

Because it was rebellious? Unexpected?

All the more reason to call it quits after tonight. She’d let this go on for far too long.

“A room for two, sir?” The expression on the face of the clerk at the desk told Sierra that Mickey might have cut his hair, but he was still not the sort of clientele the Sedgwick wanted to rent to. After all, he was still wearing the clothes he’d changed into after the concert: clean though ripped blue jeans, white t-shirt exposing the tattoos on his arms, hoops in his ears, his cheeks stubbly.

Sexy.

Jesus. She could barely stand it.

“Yep. Here’s my card.” Mickey grinned at Sierra, nearly melting her panties. God, it was going to be hard to end it with this man, because he certainly knew how to tap into her innermost desires.

Actually, that wasn’t true at all. He did it without even trying.

As the clerk went over everything a normal guest would need to know, like checkout times and the WiFi password, Sierra tried to curb her impatience. After all, she really needed to relish these final few hours with her old friend, because this was going to be a goodbye of sorts. She knew that he and the band would be leaving Winchester soon, meaning he could go back to his regular life and she would do the same—only she was probably going to take the plunge her mother so desperately wanted her to.

Once Mickey had scratched his name on the piece of paper the clerk slid across the polished marble desk, they walked a short way to the elevators. Although Sierra had attended many a function at this place and had felt comfortable doing so, the rest of the hotel felt intimidating. It was everything her mother loved and cherished—a display of wealth, only the finest materials used in the construction of the place.

But it made Sierra nervous. When she’d been a kid, her family had been “normal.” It wasn’t until her mother inherited a disgusting sum of money that they became everything she’d always wanted to be. Sierra had worn the new family persona, but it had always fit like a dress that was too small, and she was constantly afraid that something would wind up showing that shouldn’t.

So as they stepped on the elevator with its shiny gold handrails and ornate mirrors, Sierra stood in the middle where she wouldn’t accidentally touch anything she shouldn’t. As the doors slid closed with a mere whisper, Mickey wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, burying his nose in her hair against her neck. “Goddamn, you smell good.”

The feel of Mickey next to her helped her instantly relax, all but melting in his arms. This man belonged here even less than she did, so if he felt comfortable here, she was going to do her best to do the same. Resting her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath through her nose.

“ButIprobably smell like shit.”

“You said you wanted to take a shower, right?”

His lips against her ear, the warm breath causing a chill to chase down her spine, he said, “If you’re joining me.”

“What? You want me to scrub you down?”

“I think I’d like that a lot.”

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