Page 65 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
By the time we pull up in front of my hotel, I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve slept less than one hour in the last day. Everything is getting fuzzy around the edges.
When Connor opens my door—I’m in the back of Ryan’s rented Escalade because I refused to sit up front when Connor announced he was driving—I jump out and immediately stumble.
Connor catches me. His hands grip my arms for support.
“Do I need to carry you?”
I shake him off. “Try it and I’ll introduce you to a thousand new forms of pain,” I grumble.
Ryan rounds the front of the SUV. “You two lovebirds need a little privacy? I can make myself scarce—”
In unison, Connor and I snap, “We’re not lovebirds!”
Then we stare at each other in silence while Ryan whoops with laughter. “Roger that! Not lovebirds!” Grinning, he comes to stand beside us. He slaps Connor on the back. “So, notlovebirds, you need a little privacy or what?”
“Is he always like this?” I ask Connor.
“He hasn’t even gotten started,” he sourly replies.
“Aw, c’mon now!” Ryan gives Connor’s shoulder a friendly shake, which doesn’t budge his big frame. “I’m just providin’ a little relief from all the unresolved sexual tension, my friends! Thought I was gonna choke on it on the ride over!” Turning practical, he props his hands on his hips. “You two really should get it over with and bone so we can focus on work.”
Connor’s face turns red. Instead of being embarrassed, I’m amused. “What was it you said to me at the hotel, Connor? Oh yes—great minds think alike. I guess you two graduated from the same charm school?”
Ryan nods. “Oh yeah. We’re a couple of real charmin’ motherfuckers. Ask anyone.” He spots a woman walking through the sliding glass doors to the lobby who’s checking out him and Connor over her shoulder. His grin returns in full force. “You see? Proof’s in the puddin’.” He turns his grin on me and waggles his eyebrows. “Or should I say panties.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s like you’re twelve.”
Connor says drily, “That’s giving him a lot of credit.”
“Okay. Now that we’ve established my babysitters are the world’s worst driver and a randy twelve-year-old, can I please go to my room and get some sleep?”
Ryan’s brows pull together. “Randy? Is that one of them poo-poo British words for handsome?”
Connor’s eyes briefly close. “Horny, brother. It means horny.”
Ryan acts affronted. “Hey, don’t get all uppity with me, boss, at least I’m not the world’s worst driver.” When he winks at me, I think he might be becoming one of my favorite people.
It’s a short list.
“C’mon, then.” Connor holds out an arm. “After you, Tabby.”
When we enter the lobby, Ryan says to Connor, “I’ll be down here if you need me.” He ambles over to a sofa and makes himself comfortable with his feet up on the glass coffee table. The concierge looks at him with pinched lips, disapproving of him using their furniture like it’s a frat house, but when Ryan notices his stare and raises his brows, the concierge sniffs and looks away.
I’m gifted with another of Ryan’s winks. Shaking his head, Connor steers me toward the elevators.
“You’re not coming anywhere near my room,” I say stiffly, “so don’t get any ideas.”
Connor stabs his finger to the elevator call button. A muscle in his jaw is jumping like crazy. He doesn’t say a word, just stands next to me in silence until the elevator arrives. We step inside.
“What floor?” he asks.
“Eight.”
He presses the button. The doors slide shut. As soon as the car starts to rise, Connor presses the Stop button, and the elevator comes to a jerking halt.
“What the—”
“I’m sorry.” He bites it out, moving in front of me. His body blocks the doors. I quickly back up, only to find myself up against the mirrored wall. To stop his advance, I brace my hand flat against his chest and lock my elbow.
