Page 28 of Famous Last Words
At that, I spin around, gawping at him when he looks up from the room service menu.
“I amnotstaying here all night with you!”
He rolls his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Tie all the bedsheets together and kick out one of the windows so you can scale down the building?”
He actually has the audacity to grin.Ugh. He’s so infuriating.
Stomping my way around the sofa, I flop down onto the cushion with a dramatic huff. And yes, I’m fully aware I’m acting like a child, but this is such bullshit.
“This is such bullshit,” I mutter my thoughts out loud, folding my arms across my chest.
Robbie goes to speak, but I cut him off. “Coming back to your hotel wasneverpart of the deal.”
He snorts. “Yeah, like I’m totally jazzed about?—”
“Spending my Friday night watching a bunch of moronic jocks chase a stupid puck around an ice rink is bad enough. Now to be stuckherewithyou…” I trail off, narrowing my eyes as I look him up and down.
He blinks at me and, after a moment, holds the room service menu up in the air. “Yeah, so, anyway, do you want food or not, because I’m fucking starving.”
“No, I don’t wantfood. Iwantto gohome,” I snap, bitchier than intended, but I mean, can you blame me? I’m basically being held hostage in a hotel room with the man who made my life a living hell in high school, and all he’s worried about is food.
With another huff, I cross one leg over the other and twist my body away from him.
“Suit yourself,” Robbie mutters, picking up the hotel phone.
After he finishes speaking with room service, the television suddenly comes to life, startling me. I look up to see a replay of tonight’s Thunder versus Wolves game playing on the screen, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. I spear him with an incredulous look, but I’m rendered shocked when I notice he’s causally unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off, as if he’s somehow forgotten that I’m sitting right here.
“Um, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Robbie looks at me as tosses his shirt over the back of the armchair. His brows knit together, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What?”
I wave a hand in the air, indicating his suddenly naked upper body.
He glances down at himself, and I find myself following his gaze. Damn. He’s ripped. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, intricate tattoos covering his arms and much of his chest. It’s then I notice Robbie’s gleaming gaze on me, a knowing smirk curling his lips.
“Get a good look?”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re practically naked and I’m literally sitting right here.”
“You realize you’re the first woman I’ve ever heard say that like it’s a bad thing?”
I snort, pushing up from the couch. “You’redisgusting.”
He chuckles as I push past him, storming into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, I lock it for good measure, leaning back against it to collect a breath. I don’t even need to use the restroom, but like hell I’m just going to sit out there while he disrobes.
Scanning the bathroom, I’m hardly surprised to see that it’s a mess. Calvin Klein boxer briefs are lying on the floor, and I doubt they’re clean. A wet towel hangs over the glass shower screen. And there, in the sink, possibly my biggest ick of all: dried toothpaste spittle. So gross.
I rest my hands on the countertop, looking at my reflection for a long moment. I’m a mess. My eyes are red-rimmed and tired, cheeks flushed with frustration, hair a wild nest.
Splashing my face with cool water, I towel it dry, securing my hair into a messy pile on top of my head, staring at myself for another few minutes.But when I realize I can’t hide out in the bathroom all night, I heave another sigh and walk back out into the suite, but the moment I do, I’m stopped dead in my tracks because you have got to be fucking kidding me.
No, Robbie’s not butt naked. In fact, it’s almost worse. He’s lying on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of gray fucking sweatpants.Gray.
I remain frozen in place, forcing my gaze anywhere but in his general direction because if I’m not mistaken there’s an obvious dick outline in those pants, and, like a solar eclipse, I don’t trust myself not to stare directly at it.
“You good?” Robbie asks after a beat.
I meet his eyes—onlyhis eyes—finding something taunting in his dark gaze as he stares at me from the bed. One brow arched slightly higher, almost cunning, his intense gaze trails me from head to toe, making me shift my weight awkwardly from foot to foot.
