Page 27 of Reputation (Tempt)

I jerked my attention to her face, grateful she was blindfolded. “Yes?”

“Are you coming?”

Oh god, how I wanted to.

“Yes. Yes.” I moved over to the mini bar. “Just a sec.”

I grabbed a clean glass and a few of the non-alcoholic beverages and mixed them together, along with some maple syrup and other items. I glanced over my shoulder. “No peeking.”

“I’m not,” Emerson said.

The beverage fizzed and the colors mingled. I was positive it would taste awful, and I tried not to laugh.

I strode over to her, gently placing the cup in her hand and wrapping my hands around hers to make sure it was secure. “Got it?” I had to force the words out, too focused on the feel of her skin on mine to think of much else.

She nodded, my attention snagging on her lips. “Got it.”

She lifted the cup to her mouth. Her nose wrinkled, and she took a deep breath then swallowed some down. Her cheeks bulged, and for a minute, I thought she was going to spit it out.

“Swallow,” I commanded, trying not to laugh at her expression.

She gulped loudly and then stuck out her tongue. “That was disgusting.” She lifted her blindfold and glared down at the cup. “What was in that?”

I stifled a laugh. “It’s probably better if I don’t tell you.”

She shuddered and handed me the cup. “Bleh. Take it away.”

“Okay.” I chuckled, dumping the contents into the bathroom sink.

“Your turn.” She bounced on the bed, and her glee made me even more wary. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t regret it. But currently, it seemed safer than opting for a dare.

“What was it like living in a hotel as a kid? Because my mind always goes to the movieEloise at the Plaza.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it.”

“It’s a classic. It’s got Julie Andrews and this six-year-old who lives in a hotel and has a knack for going on adventures with her nanny.” When I said nothing more, she gave me an expectant look. “So…”

“So…” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs.

“Are you going to answer the question?” She leaned on her side, propping her head on her hand.

I considered giving her my standard answer, the one I gave in interviews. But the way she looked at me—with such trust and vulnerability—I found myself wanting to tell her more.

“It wasn’t as glamorous as you’d think. It felt as if we were constantly moving from one hotel to another with no real place to call home.”

She frowned. “That sounds…lonely.”

“It was lonely at times, even though I had my cousins and my brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” I asked. “It wasn’t your fault. And it’s not like I wasn’t living a life most people can only dream of. I certainly wasn’t lacking for anything.” Implying otherwise made me feel guilty for complaining when it could’ve been a lot worse.

“Except a home. Parents,” she said, her expression more solemn. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s okay. They’ve been gone a long time.” I took a shaky breath, not wanting to dwell on it. After my parents had died in a plane crash with my aunt and uncle, my grandparents had taken care of Knox, Graham, Sloan, Jasper, and me. “Truth or dare?”

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