Page 187 of Hate Mates

Shaking my head, I ducked around the rambunctious fan, studiously avoiding the eye contact that I could see Nash was trying to make, and headed for the lobby. It was late and I should have been in bed already, not sitting in hotel bars, making ridiculous assumptions about football players that I had no business making.

I stepped into the elevator, grateful that I hadn’t had to wait long for it to arrive, and pressed the button for my floor. Just as the doors began to close, I spotted Nash, striding through the lobby, his head on a swivel as he scanned the open space. When he spotted me, he changed direction, charging across the hotel lobby like he was heading for the end zone.

For a moment, I held my breath, wondering what was happening. Why was he chasing me down? I would have thought he would be glorying in the attention of his adoring fan, but there was no mistaking the look of determination on his face as he approached, as though getting to me was the only thing that mattered to him.

The very idea of that being true made my heart race.

“Avery!” he called, but the rest of his words were lost to me as the elevator doors closed, encasing me in nothing but the sound of generic instrumental music and my own harsh, rapid breathing.

“Stop it, Avery,” I admonished myself, pressing a hand to my chest where my heart was still thumping faster than it had any right to thump. “He wasn’t going to say anything you need to hear.”

When the doors opened, I headed down the hall to my room, ready to be done with the night and all things Nash Holloway.

Pressing my key card to the sensor, I frowned when the light flashed red.

“Come on,” I hissed, trying a second and a third time with no change in the result. “Don’t do this to me.” The last thing I wanted to do was return to the lobby and risk running into Nash again. I had just received my fifth red light when his voice sounded right behind me.

“Can I help?”

“Unlikely,” I snapped, not wanting to look at him. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if he was giving me a smug look. Stubbornly, I swiped the key card again, receiving yet another red light. “It worked before. It will again.”

“Okay, Avery.”

He sounded genuine, not a trace of sarcasm in his tone, and I hated myself just a little more, because I couldn’t help but turn to him now.

He stood there, close but not crowding me, hands in his pockets which I’m sure he thought made him look relaxed and nonthreatening, but really only served to stretch the fabric tighter across his body, highlighting thateverythingabout him was big.

Damn it.

“How did you get here so fast?” I demanded, forcing my eyes to his and feeling the heat that danced across my cheeks at the idea of being caught checking out his package. “The elevator hasn’t even returned to the lobby yet.”

“I took the stairs.” His shrug was casual, his brown eyes intense. “But I really can help.”

“How? You have some kind of digital lock pick in your pocket?” I questioned, my eyes involuntarily returning to said pockets and subsequently the bulge between them.

“Nah.” Nash was southern charm and false modesty. He also rocked up on his toes a little, and I nearly choked at the way his dick moved inside his pants with the motion. “I was just gonna say you could call the front desk from my room.”

Blinking, I took a second to process that information, knowing my face was even more red than it had been before.

“Wait,” I called when I finally registered his words. “From your room?”

FOUR

Nash

Look at that blush.

Avery stood before me, her creamy skin such a beautiful shade of pink that I had to clench my fists in an effort to keep from reaching for her.

I could imagine, though. How warm her cheeks would be, the way she’d sigh when I ran my fingers over her skin, following the blush from her cheeks to her neck and beyond.

Damn, there was nothing more beautiful in the world than a riled up Avery Peel.

“Well, my room happens to be where the phone is.” I held my own key card up as evidence. “And I’m just down the hall.”

“That sounds like a trick,” she stated honestly, and I frowned.

She really didn’t trust me.

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