Page 11

“I’m sorry,” Noah says. “Could you repeat that?”

The woman frowns at her computer again, her eyes nervously flickering between us and the screen like she’s afraid we’re going to yell at her. “I see here you reserved two…but we only have one. I’m not sure what happened.”

My life has been like a movie this entire summer. I’ve lived through mobster plotlines, urban fantasy action sequences, and political intrigue.

And now we’ve entered…the rom-com.

Just.

One.

Room.

Surely this doesn’t happen in real life?

The woman taps her mouse, avoiding direct eye contact. “I do have good news, though. It looks like your room was upgraded. You’ll have an ocean view and a balcony.”

How utterly perfect. Of course.

“How much extra is that going to cost?” I ask, wanting to make sure they don’t rake Noah over the coals.

She looks back up at us, giving us a nervous smile. “It’s a complimentary upgrade.”

“How many beds are in the new room?” Noah asks, his tone surprisingly even.

The woman glances between us, and I swear she’s trying not to smile now. “There’s one king-sized bed.”

I press my lips together because I’m afraid I might do something embarrassing like giggle.

“All right,” Noah says. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s see if we can figure something out in the morning.”

Though I can usually read him, I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking.

We finish the check-in process, and the woman gives us our keys, looking relieved that we didn’t demand to speak to a manager. “I hope you have a pleasant stay.”

Neither of us says anything as we wait for our elevator, but the air seems to crackle between us. The doors slowly close after we step inside the lift and begin our ascent.

Noah stares at the buttons. I stare at the buttons.

When we reach the seventh floor, we roll our suitcases into the hall and begin the slow walk to our room.

Our single room.

With our single bed.

My emotions are a jumble, but they’re edging toward…exhilarated.

Oh dear.

“This is it,” Noah says when he stops in front of a door, checking the number against the one hand-written on our welcome packet.

“Looks like it,” I agree.

We’re pretending we’re very chill, but butterflies get the best of me. My heart beats too quickly, giving me away—and I’m not the only one with an elevated pulse. Noah’s heart is thrumming faster than usual, too.

He slides the card into the lock and then opens the door, holding it so I can go in first. I make the mistake of meeting his gaze as I pass him. Normally, he’d make a joke to diffuse the tension, but his honey eyes are doing that molten thing I love, and there’s no trace of humor in them.

We’re in so much trouble.

I roll my suitcase in, eyeing the king-sized bed sitting in the middle of the room. The linens are white, with a tan blanket folded at the bottom.

There’s also a whirlpool tub, making me suspect this room is usually reserved for romantic getaways. Which is great. Just great.

Other than that, it’s like any hotel room, except there’s a balcony. And beyond the balcony…the ocean.

“Oh,” I gasp softly, thoughts of biting Noah temporarily forgotten. Abandoning my suitcase, I walk across the room and open the sliding door.

The balcony is narrow, only wide enough for two people, and the Florida humidity hits me like a wet blanket.

But I don’t even care because the moonlight plays over the water, stretching to the dark horizon, and it’s beautiful.

“This is an amazing view,” I say.

Noah joins me. “It is.”

I turn to look at him, smiling. “Not to be sappy, but I’m glad I’m sharing this experience with you.”

He returns my smile, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his shorts. “You want to take a walk on the beach?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” I remind him.

“I don’t care if you don’t.”

I cast a longing glance at the quiet ocean. “Are you sure? Aren’t you tired?”

Personally, I’m exhausted, but I know I’ll never sleep with Noah beside me, so why not enjoy the moonlight?

“I’m happy to adapt to vampire hours for you,” he says.

I study his face, noting his soft smile and the gentle crinkle of his eyes, and my heart swells. No one has ever looked at me like that. There’s attraction between us, but it’s more than something physical. I love Noah’s character and his company.

In the few months we’ve known each other, we’ve been thrown into the most ridiculous situations. I’ve seen the way he handles himself under extreme stress, the way he takes care of me and others, always putting himself last.

He’s a modern knight—one of the very few.

“You know I love you,” I say to him.

His smile turns amused. “It sounds like there’s a but coming.”

“ But do you know how much I like you as well?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Maybe it would be better to say I admire you.”

The crinkle of his eyes deepens. “As ‘buts’ go, that’s a pretty good one.”

I step up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He automatically leans down so I can accomplish it. “I’m grateful you’re mine. You’re a good man, Noah York.”

He grins, brushing a kiss over my lips. “If you like the ocean that much, I’ll bring you at least once a year.”

“I don’t think I can sleep with you,” I whisper.

His eyebrows fly up. “I don’t think that’s on the schedule.”

I laugh, nervous. “I mean, I don’t think I can sleep in the same bed and actually…sleep. Maybe…” I bite my lip, not brave enough to finish that thought.

“You want to wait, remember?”

“I mean, I did . But now…”

He grins. “It’s supposed to be difficult. Challenges are.”

“It’s never been difficult before.”

Noah steps forward, his eyes washed gray in the moonlight, and skims his hand over my side. Lowering his voice, he says, “That’s because you didn’t know me before.”

“Cocky,” I murmur, closing my eyes when he brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck to the humid air.

Then he leans down, pressing his lips over my pulse point, tasting my skin, making my fangs ache. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“The beach will be there tomorrow,” I breathe.

Noah pulls back, meeting my eyes again. “So will I. And the day after that, and the day after that.” He sets his hand on my arm, rubbing gently. Goosebumps rise on my skin despite the heat. “For as long as you want me.”

“I’m always going to want you.”

He studies me, looking like he wants to say something. Then he smiles like he’s changed his mind. “We’re wasting the night. Let’s go.”

Nodding, I follow him off the balcony and into the room, ignoring the bed in all its solitary glory.

For now.

Fun fact: Miami Beach closes at 10:00 PM.

“I didn’t know beaches ever closed,” I say to Noah, noting that there are a few people out despite the hour restrictions. “I’m not sure anyone will care if we walk since we’re not getting in the water. What do you think?”

Noah hesitates, his eyes scanning the posted sign yet again. He’s a rule follower through and through—and to be honest, it’s okay because I am as well.

I yawn, now feeling like I might be able to sleep. The long day of travel prep, purchasing property, and flying have finally caught up with me.

“Let’s head back to the room,” Noah says. “We’ll go to the beach just after sunset tomorrow.”

“Unless you’re chasing a rogue hotel mogul.”

He chuckles. “Unless that.”

We walk back through the hotel patio that leads to the beach, past several closed pools, a few private cabanas, and a tiki bar that’s still serving hotel guests.

Maybe I’ve had time to acclimate to the idea of sharing a room, or perhaps I’m too tired to think about anything but a soft pillow. But whatever it is, when we arrive, my heart isn’t racing like it was earlier.

Way to be an adult , Piper.

So what if we have to share a bed? That doesn’t mean we have to leap into anything physical. Of course not. But just that thought makes my stomach tie itself into a knot.

New plan: Stop thinking about it all together. Put it completely out of mind.

We step inside, and…oh, look. There’s the bed. It’s still here.

That’s good.

“Which side do you want?” I ask.

Noah closes the balcony curtains. “Whichever,” he answers, which isn’t much of an answer at all.

“Okay.” I sit on the side closest to the wall and angle around to look at the nightstand. The digital clock says it’s after three.

“Do you want to get ready for bed first?” Noah asks.

“Sure.”

I drag my suitcase into the bathroom, wincing when I leave the carpet and the plastic wheels make a loud rolling noise across the tile. When I close the door, I look at myself in the mirror, preparing a pep talk.

“We get ready for bed in the same house every evening,” I whisper to my reflection. “This isn’t that big of a deal. We’ve just downsized a little.”

The bathroom is nice. Like, really nice. The counters look like marble, and a caddy is stocked with little hand soaps and lotions. Housekeeping even folded a towel into a bird.

A vase sits near the corner of the mirror, holding an assortment of brightly colored orange and pink lilies, accented with palm-like fronds of greenery that I don’t even recognize.

It’s a good thing the upgrade was complimentary. I doubt all these little extras are cheap.

I brush my hair, brush my teeth, and wash my face. Then I moisturize, slather myself with a body lotion that smells like orange blossoms, and put on my cotton shorts and tank top.

When I’m finished, I assess myself in the mirror. Noah has seen me without makeup plenty of times—once when I was practically near death. He’s seen my sleepwear, too. And I’ve seen his.

No surprises here.

I leave the bathroom and find Noah on the bed. He’s stretched out, fully dressed, minus his shoes. His eyes are closed, and he’s wearing earbuds—probably listening to his audiobook again.

“The bathroom is all yours,” I say.

He doesn’t respond.

I study him, watching the way his chest slowly rises and falls. His breaths are soft, and his heart is calm.

“He fell asleep,” I whisper to myself, trying not to laugh.

Well, that makes it easier. Being careful not to wake him up, I turn off the light and scoot under the covers beside him. It’s pitch black, too dark to even make him out beside me. Hopefully, he won’t wake up in the middle of the night and stub his toe looking for the bathroom.

I’m debating getting up to turn on the bathroom light, but then he rolls over and drapes his arm over me in the dark.

“Night, Piper,” he murmurs, only somewhat coherent.

I smile, closing my eyes. “Night, Noah.”

I’m almost asleep when I remember I forgot to take my evening blood. But the thought is fleeting, and before I can do anything about it, sleep claims me.