Page 11 of The Keeper

“Okay,” she said after a long pause. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind her, I let out a relieved breath before turning on the shower. I didn’t feel good about lying to Ivy, even if it was by omission. She saw the darkest sides of people on a daily basis and had every right to be wary.

But I needed to do something to shake myself out of my dating rut. Even if it was a one-night stand with a biker, who was the polar opposite of the men I typically dated.

I waited until clouds of steam billowed over the glass shower doorbefore getting in. The spray of hot water cascaded down my body, washing away any lingering doubts about what I was about to do.

As I lathered up with my favorite candy apple body wash, I couldn’t help but imagine Dane’s hands gliding over my slick skin instead. I took extra time, shaving my legs and underarms until there wasn’t a hint of stubble, pleased I’d had the foresight to get a bikini wax before the trip.

After drying off, I wrapped myself in a fluffy white hotel robe and padded over to the vanity to brush my teeth and touch up my makeup. Nothing too crazy—just enough to feel confident. I brushed the tangles from my damp hair before pulling it up into a messy bun, the best I could do without waking Ivy.

Satisfied with my reflection, I crept into the bedroom to grab some clothes, only to stumble to a stop. The closet doors were firmly shut, with all our shoes and luggage stacked precariously in front.

“Goddammit, Ivy,” I muttered under my breath while weighing my options.

Navigating the makeshift barricade would require waking her up, which was clearly her intention when she set it up. Of course, she’d seen right through my plan. That was the problem with knowing someone for almost two decades. You knew all their tells.

I studied the obstacle course before me, debating whether to crawl into bed and admit defeat or find a way to reach my clothes. Unfortunately, a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand between our beds confirmed I was out of time.

Bathrobe it was.

Not ideal, but infinitely better than a wet swimsuit.

FIVE

PIPER

Ivy & Piper’s Guide to Life Rule Number Sixteen:

Don’t sleep with a man until the third date.

With a resigned sigh, I cinched the belt of the robe tighter and tiptoed out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. The lamps outside filtered through the sheer curtains, bathing the living area in soft yellow light.

My heart jumped into my throat as I caught sight of the massive silhouette waiting on the other side of the glass. I slid the door open as quietly as possible, wincing at the soft scrape of metal on metal.

The humidity enveloped me as soon as I stepped out onto the small sliver of concrete that constituted a patio. “Hey.”

Dane’s eyes widened as they raked over me. “Hey, yourself,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the deep V of the robe. “Thought you might’ve changed your mind.”

“Not at all,” I replied, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. Goosebumps prickled my skin despite the warm evening, and even with the robe wrapped tightly around me, I felt exposed. I cleared my throat. “Do you, um, want to come inside?”

Where was the bold girl from the hallway when I needed her?

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, and he inclined his head toward the open doorway. “Ladies first.”

I was acutely aware of his closeness as I slid the door closed behind us. The soft click of the latch engaging seemed to echo in the quiet room as I turned to face him.

“Have a seat,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. “We just need to be quiet.”

Dane stripped off his kutte and placed it on the coffee table before settling onto the sofa, his massive frame making it look comically undersized.

“Come here,” he said, patting a sliver of cushion near his thigh.

I perched on the edge and smoothed my damp palms over my lap, willing my body to relax. His fingers brushed against my lower back, and I reflexively jerked away with a nervous squeak.

“You’re shaking,” he said, pulling his hand back like he’d been burned. “Would you feel better if I left?”

“No.” I turned to face him, warmth pooling low in my belly as my knee brushed his thigh. “It’s not that. I want you here. I want this. I’m just…” I trailed off, searching for the right words.

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