Page 51 of Married with Mayhem

“This shirt is, um, very comfortable,” I stammer as I swipe the key card in my door. I’m relieved when it unlocks because I already look like enough of an idiot.

Monte follows me into the room, which suddenly seems a lot smaller with him in it, especially once he closes the door and sets the ice bucket on the dresser. I’m acutely aware that we’re alone.

And we’re in a hotel room.

And he’s nearly naked.

“Help yourself to some snacks,” I say, motioning to the two plastic bags on the floor beside my open suitcase. “I can’t eat it all.”

He eyes the bags. My heart stops.

FUCK FUCK FUCK! NO NO NO!

My own sloppiness is now my worst enemy. Not only have I left some Minecraft-patterned panties spilling out of the suitcase after my most recent clothes hunting spree, but my two-pronged vibrator is hanging out in plain sight. The lid of the box is flippedopen, exposing my favorite pleasure device in all its hot pink glory.

“Here, let me get them for you.” I shove him out of the way, swiftly flip my suitcase lid down to cover my intimate secrets and snatch the bags off the floor.

He gives me a funny look as I push both bags into his chest.

“You can take everything,” I say. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not hungry either.”

“You might get hungry later. Go on. It’s all yours.”

He shakes his head and throws the bags on the bed before heading to the connecting door between our rooms. “Good night, Sabrina.”

“Take your gun with you, Monte.”

He turns around, spies the ice bucket where he left it on the dresser and extracts his wet gun. “No more field trips,” he says.

“No promises,” I reply.

He closes in until he’s inches away. My nose is lined up between his impressive pectorals. Dark tattoos run riot over his skin. Gently, he tips my chin up with the hand not holding the gun.

A pool of heat stirs low in my belly. The sudden ache between my legs is so severe that I hold my breath rather than risk moaning out loud.

“No more field trips,” Monte repeats, more sternly than last time.

“Okay,” I whisper because right now I would literally agree to any demand he made.

His breathing hitches. My eyes beg for the chance to wander lower. However, my gaze remains cemented to his and before I can recover, he relaxes his grip and walks away.

Without another word, the door closes behind him. My legs wobble. I sit on the edge of the bed and mourn the fact that I’ll never know if Monte was hard just now.

Oh well. We can’t have everything, I suppose.

I truly don’t wish to cause him anymore angst tonight. Besides, I am kind of tired. I don’t even feel like dealing with the ice in the bucket. After a visit to the bathroom to get washed up, I crawl into cool hotel sheets and shut off the light.

All sexual tension aside, it’s a comfort to know that Monte is nearby. My feelings for him are a blend of very strong emotions. There’s desire. Frustration. Affection. Trust. More desire.

I like to think that if he tried to kiss me, I wouldn’t stop him. I do want him to kiss me. The problem isn’t him. The problem is that I’m still…me.

My King of Hearts.

I don’t know why the memory of the old woman should haunt me right now. Maybe it’s because recent events have made the death card feel uncomfortably relevant.

But with Monte in the next room, I couldn’t possibly feel afraid.

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