Page 29

TWENTY-NINE

Kinsley

I wake up with a groan and stretch my legs under the sheets. My body is sore in places I didn’t know existed.

Last night?—

Fuck.

Last night was everything.

I gave myself, my virginity, to two of my bosses, and while I should be mortified, I’m not. They were everything I didn’t know I needed. Attentive. Bossy. Patient. Demanding. Consuming.

And…gone?

My hands fan out, feeling the sheets around me. Cold. I remember falling asleep on Maverick’s chest with Wyatt curled around my back, our legs tangled. I remember someone stroking my hair, telling me how good we were together.

Could they really just leave after all that? Without saying anything?

Wow.

That’s a slap to the face; I’m not going to lie. Yeah, I told them come Monday I wanted to pretend this never happened, but I thought I’d at least get a goodbye. Was I going to really be able to push this night out of my mind within forty-eight hours? No. But I was going to try.

I really thought they were going to put up some kind of fight.

I’m so naive. Of course this meant more to me than it did to them. They’re fifteen years older than me. They’re experienced. Clearly. And don’t need me following them around after they paid me for sex.

This was a transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

Now I understand whey they call it the walk of shame. It’s not about other people seeing you in rumbled clothes; it’s the feeling swirling in your gut.

I sit up and clutch the sheet to my chest. There’s no point sticking around if they’re already gone. I’m sure as hell not going to lay around in this nice hotel bed feeling sorry for myself.

Not going to do it.

I’m slipping out of bed when I see Maverick’s suit still draped over the chair. And that’s when it registers—the shower is on.

While I know I should be excited, shouldn't let my stomach flip, shouldn’t let my heart skip a beat, I can’t help myself.

They didn’t leave.

That means something, right?

This is one of the reasons I never really dated; I suck at it. I’m terrible at reading signals and deciphering all this magical code.

Maybe he’s hoping that by the time he’s out of the shower, I’ll be long gone. I have no idea what the etiquette is after a one-night stand, but I’m pretty sure I should make my exit. Maybe I can be the one to hightail it out the door without saying goodbye.

Yep. That’s exactly what I need to do.

But, of course, I left my clothes folded all nice and neat in the bathroom. The bathroom where Maverick, my boss, is showering. Naked.

Dang it.

I rise up to my tiptoes and sneak my naked ass through the hotel room, stopping right outside the opening to the bathroom. The water is still on, and I can only hope he’s washing his face and is blinded by suds, giving me enough time to grab my clothes and promptly retreat.

After taking a very quiet, very deep breath, I reach in, peek around the wall, and stretch my arm as far as I can. My fingers brush against the fabric of my dress, and internally I’m ecstatic. Externally, I’m silent, edging forward another millimeter or two.

And another.

This time my hand closes around my clothes, and I glance in the mirror. It’s fogged up so I can’t see shit. Hopefully that means he can’t see me either. Since time is of the essence, I pick up the pace and yank my stuff back to me. Only my black silk panties fall on the floor halfway to me.

It’s fine.

I didn’t like them anyway.

Who needs panties? Not this girl.

I’m lunging toward the bed when I hear the hotel door lock mechanism. Shit. Shit. Shit. Wyatt must be coming back from wherever the hell he was. There’s definitely no chance I’ll be able to sneak out of here now, and hiding under the bed would be ridiculous. It would be, right?

I work quick, fastening my bra and pulling the dress over my head. I’m smoothing it over my hips when Wyatt saunters into the bedroom looking way too good in his suit from yesterday, holding a drink carrier with three cups of coffee.

The look he gives me is downright sinful as his gaze rakes over my bare legs and up my body. His tongue runs along his teeth, filling me with memories from last night, of all the things he can do with it. It’s criminal he can illicit all that with one look. He really should be ashamed, but the look on his face tells me he’s anything but.

“Were you trying to run out of here, baby girl?” His voice is deep, gravely, and has my insides clenching. I don’t know what I was thinking. Monday is going to be a disaster. There’s a good chance I’m going to have a spontaneous orgasm organizing their schedule for the week.

Pull it together, Kinsley. You weren’t even sure this man knew your name two days ago. Ugh. But does it really matter when he can turn you into a pile of goo with his tongue?

“I would never.” I cross my arms—a guilty move—and I promptly uncross them, leaning casually on the armchair. Nothing to see here. I’m completely innocent and guilt free. Nailed it. “It was chilly in here.”

Wyatt smirks, his brows raising, and he huffs a laugh, glancing over my head.

“You should have seen her sneaking into the bathroom to get her dress. If you hadn’t walked through the door, our little secretary would have been long gone.” Maverick chuckles, his hands landing on my shoulders, and I jump. Alright, maybe I haven’t nailed the casual stance.

“Please.” I shrug him off with a wave. “I was just getting dressed. No big deal. You’ve seen me in clothes before. What’s that you have there?”

Maverick laughs behind me and slaps my ass, then presses his lips to the side of my neck. “Changing the subject, huh? You forgot these in your mad dash to the door.”

Of course, he flits around me, my thong dangling from his finger.

Heat crawls up my neck and spreads across my face, and Maverick continues to laugh, my panties continuing to dangle. “Consider it a souvenir.”

“Sure thing. I’ll jerk off with them when I get home.” He tosses them on his clothes with a wink, and I’m dead. I’m deader than dead. Not only am I imagining Maverick coming into my thong, using it to stroke himself, but he’s standing in front of me in a towel.

Not just any towel either, one of those hotel ones we all know doesn’t fit around a normal human. Somehow he has it fastened around his waist—low around his waist—highlighting his defined abs and those freaking lines cutting right down to his dick. A few hours ago, I licked those lines like they were a tootsie roll pop and I was dying to get to the center.

Wyatt interrupts my reverie, plucking a cup from the holder and waving it in front of my face. “When you’re done ogling Mav, I brought us coffee.”

I snag the cup, my eyes narrowed on his. “You know how to get your own coffee?”

Maverick grabs his with a laugh while Wyatt looks affronted, like I just insulted him and every member of his family. “Absolutely not. I’m fully incapable of doing anything myself. Just ask my secretary.”

Cute. I purse my lips and keep my eyes narrowed, as I take a small sip of my coffee, expecting it to be terrible. But it’s not. He knows my coffee order? He’s obviously been paying attention, and I have no idea what to do with that information if anything. I’d better stick with my original plan and get the hell out of here.

“Speaking of secretary, I should really let you two go on about your day. Thank you for last night, but I’m afraid I need a shower and a fresh set of clothes.” I hustle to the closet and grab my purse and overnight bag. Which yes, has clothes and stuff for me to shower, but I can’t do it here. With them. “I appreciate the coffee. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Nope.” Maverick steps in front of me, his towel slipping slightly. If he’s trying to use his body to make me stay—well, let’s just say it could work.

Wyatt is on his other side casually sipping his coffee, the both of them completely blocking my path to freedom.

With a huff, I drop my bags and put a hand on my hip. “What do you mean, no?”

“We’re taking you home.” Wyatt’s tone is very matter-of-fact. It’s one he uses at the office that generally doesn’t allow room for argument. But we are not at the office.

“Very funny. Ha. Ha. Ha. This wasn’t a date, so you are under no obligation to drop me off at my front door. In fact, I drove here. You’re off the hook.”

Only neither one of them move. Wyatt crosses his arms, and Maverick drops his towel.

Sweet baby Jesus.

He’s not even looking at me, just puts down his coffee and gets dressed like it’s perfectly normal. I really try not to look at his body, at his dick that’s very clearly swinging between his legs—fine, I totally looked. But now, I’m trying not to stare, instead holding Wyatt’s amused gaze.

“You didn’t see enough last night, sweet cheeks?” I want to slap the sly smirk straight from Wyatt’s face. “It’s a shame I got dressed. I could have really used the confidence boost.”

“Shut up,” I grumble, adding in a few more choice words for extra effect, but his smirk only grows. Especially when I sneak a quick peek at Maverick’s ass right before he pulls up his boxer briefs. “But like I said, I’m good. I have my car.”

“And we have a driver who is perfectly capable of following us in your car so we can drive you home.” Maverick turns to face me, brows raised, his fingers working overtime to button his dress shirt. “You should check out your hair before we go. While I appreciate the freshly fucked look, you might not.”

“What?” My jaw drops, and I immediately drop my coffee on the side table, my hands flying to my hair.

It feels like a disaster. I was so worried about getting busted by Maverick, I didn’t even think about what I looked like. Rookie mistake. I bend down and rifle through my purse for a hair tie, and as soon as I find it, I’m off to the bathroom to pull my hair into a messy bun. While I’m sure I’m nowhere nearly ready to walk a runway, it’ll do for the ride home.

Now I just need to plead my case and hope they let me drive myself home. I need the distance from the two of them to get my head on straight. This is why you don’t sleep with your bosses. I need to extract myself from this situation before things get more tangled.

Except, when I get back to the room, Maverick is fully dressed, this time with my keys dangling from his fingers. Wyatt is holding my bag and purse, and they’re both heading toward the door.

What the heck is wrong with these guys?

I work for them, and I know they don’t hear the word “no” very often, but I’d have thought it would be present in their vocabulary.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I scramble to catch up, making sure to grab my coffee and slip on my heels. “I don’t need a ride.”

“We heard you.” Wyatt is quick to respond. “We’re just choosing not to listen.”

Of course they are.