Page 20 of Holidate Pursuit

“Thank God for small favors,” I say as I unwrap the cork.

As expected, he doesn’t waste any time jumping in while I open the bottle, which I’m sure can’t do anything but help at this point. “An actual itinerary for the week? What the fuck, Lucy? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice the size of the house? The butler? There’s a maid, for Christ’s sake. Could you have at least given me a heads-up? I would’ve been more prepared and made sure to pack appropriately. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t have looked shell-shocked and made an ass out of myself in front of yourbrother—who, by the way, already has it out for me, thanks to you.”

“Nope, that’s all thanks to you.” The death glare he gives me as I hold out a glass for him is harsh. “Okay, that’s not the point. Look, yeah, I probably should have prepared you a little more. It’s not something I like to talk about. It’s the main reason I stay as far away as possible from this place. And what does it matter? You’ll be here a week and never see them again, so who cares?” Why does that bother me more than it should?

“I do. And you should, too, for that matter. I’myourfiancé. Although, according to your father, it sounds like I’ll have to pass some crazy ass test if that means dick around here.”

Yeah, he’s angry. “Okay, so I didn’t mention my family’s wealth. And forgot to tell you that my parents weren’t expecting you. Aaand, yes, I told my brother what an ass you are. But—”

“What an ass Iamorwas? Because I’m pretty sure I’m here saving yours.” He downs his whole glass of champagne and holds it out for a refill. Maybe he’ll soften up with one more.

“I guess we can call ourselves even then. Maybe. Or maybe not. We’ll see after this week if you’ve worked up to that.”

He sighs in frustration and retreats with his full glass to the closet. “I’m getting comfortable, and then we’ll continue this conversation.” A few seconds later, the door to the bathroom closes, giving me a much-needed reprieve.

I will admit, only to myself, that in hindsight, I may have made a few mistakes where Justin is concerned. However, in my defense, this is a unique situation. I mean, what if I told my parents and they said he couldn’t come? What good would that have done? And where would we be if I hadn’t told my brother the truth, and he saw right through us, as siblings tend to do, and ended up making this even more difficult?

Why is it that in the heat of an argument, I can never think on my feet to make a good case, but after, I’m chock-full of reason?Ugh.

How is this situation going to work? There’s no way we can sleep in the same bed together. No, absolutely not. And before he gets any ideas, I’m taking control by making him a bed on the couch. That’s precisely what I’m in the middle of doing when he finally emerges from the bathroom after what feels like an eternity and silences my muddled thoughts with the sight before me.

Gulp. I will myself to look away, but my eyes refuse. Dammit. He’s shirtless. I mean, come on… he’s purely fucking with me right now by putting his defined V on display right above his waistband. The sweats he’s wearing aren’t helping my panty-melting situation with their formfitting style that accentuates what I happen to know he’s packing between those muscular thighs, which I’m also very familiar with.

“What are you doing, Lucy?”

Did his voice turn sultry, or did I drink too much? I look at my glass and see that it is indeed empty. It’s for sure the champagne. My mind is playing tricks on me.

“Uh… getting your bed ready?”Hmm.Did that sound provocative? It certainly wasn’t supposed to—unless it was my lady parts talking.

“That’s funny because there’s already a bed ready for me”—he points behind him—“right there.”

Damn, all this talk of beds isn’t good for me, but my mouth doesn’t get the memo. “That’s my bed. This is yours.” I point down to the couch I’ve set up with blankets and a pillow.

“You expect my six-foot-four frame to sleep comfortably on that less than six-foot couch? Hmm… I think the ginormous king will do just fine, but I appreciate your effort. Ready for a refill?” he says as he walks closer with his empty glass.

“What took you so long in there anyway?”

He looks at me pointedly. “You really want to know?”

Fucking champagne.

“Never mind. It’s my turn. To use the bathroom, I mean, not the other thing.” I hurry toward the bathroom.

“Let me know if you need any help.”

“I’m locking the door, don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’ll be thinking about it.”

“Ugh.” I stop at the closet to grab my pajamas, then head into the bathroom, locking the door immediately. No more champagne for me.

Justin

This is too much fun.

Taking care of myself was a necessary evil with what I knew was coming. There’s no way I would have been able to lie next to Lucy and keep my cock under control. I’m not nearly satisfied, but at least taking the edge off will help because wewillbe sleeping next to each other—unless her stubbornness wins out.

Using sound reasoning, I fill my glass with more champagne, knowing it won’t be good tomorrow, and who wastes hundred-dollar bottles of the good stuff? Certainly not me. With the glass in one hand and the schedule in the other, my legs carry me to the bed. Picking up my phone, I take some time to catch up on messages while waiting for Lucy. Work goes on without me since jobs are assigned to others, but I still need to be available for any major issues.

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