Page 55 of False Start

Kyle

I hung up the phone with a sigh, scrubbing my hand over my face before I balanced my elbows on my knees and stared at the ground between my shoes.

I was afraid to even look at Madelyn.

“I swear,” I started, wringing my hands together. I finally lifted my eyes to hers. “I booked a two-bedroom suite.”

Madelyn was still frozen in the same place she’d been when I made the call down to the front desk. She was standing next to her suitcase by the window that looked out over the city, her knuckles white where she held the handle of it like she was ready to bolt.

I ran a hand through my hair, picking up the phone again. “I’ll call for a cot. They don’t have any suites available, but—”

“Kyle, you’re like eight-feet tall,” she said, and I breathed a little sigh of relief when she let go of the grip she had on her suitcase. “You’re not sleeping on a cot.”

I was still holding the phone, ready to dial the front desk as she looked around the room with her little mouth twisting to the side.

“This couch is huge,” she said, gesturing to the sofa in the little seating area our room had. “I can sleep there easily. We just need some sheets and a blanket.”

“Not happening, Mads.”

I didn’t mean for the words to growl out of me the way they did, didn’t mean to sound like a bossy fucking prick. But there was absolutely no way I was letting that woman sleep on a couch.

When she looked at me, her expression told me she knew better than to argue.

We were both silent for a moment, and then she let out a sigh, running her hands through her hair and relinquishing the grip she had on her suitcase completely. She walked over to where I sat by the phone, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Look, we’re adults. That bed is ginormous,” she added with a sweep of her hand.

“Is that a word?”

“Sebastian says it is, so yes.”

I smiled.

“We can handle sleeping in the same bed for a few nights,” she said, and she might have actually believed those words.

At least, until the moment they left her mouth.

Because when they did, she swallowed, her neck flushing the prettiest pink as she looked at the bed and then dragged her gaze back to me.

“Yeah,” I said, and then cleared my throat, because the word came out like a fucking squeak. “Yeah,” I repeated, voice normal again. “It’ll be fine. We can put a line of pillows between us.”

Madelyn arched a brow. “A pillow fort. We’re pretty well versed in building those.”

“Oh, God. Leave the building to me, okay? We all know what happened the last time you played architect.”

She reached behind her for a decorative pillow and launched it at me, sticking her tongue out when I caught it effortlessly.

“It’s notmyfault! You farted and brought the whole thing down!”

I rolled my lips together, but it was no use — the fact that this gorgeous, grown ass woman just said the wordfartedand then blushed about it made me lose it.

A laugh barreled out of me, and then Madelyn was grabbing another pillow to throw at me. Before she could, though, I stood and swooped her up over my shoulder like a defenseman trying to get to the quarterback. I hauled her toward the bed and dropped her down into it, her hair splaying across the white comforter when I did.

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Robbins,” she threatened, leaning up on her elbows to glare at me.

I dropped down on top of her, fists hitting the bed on either side of her head, mouth dropping until I was just a few inches above hers.

“Or what?”