Page 44 of Resist

“For your solo.” I reached around behind my body to retrieve the door key from my pocket, unintentionally pushing my chest forward, my breasts skimming Lucas’s nose. “Shit! Sorry,” I said, quickly producing the card.

Josh swiped it from my hand and slotted it into the door lock. “Don’t be. I’m sure he’ll remember that for the spank bank later tonight.”

“For fuck’s sake, Bugs.”

“What? You will. I know I would.”

“Tell me, Joshua, how old are you? I’m guessing twelve.”

“The question is how old are you?” He opened the door and proceeded into my suite. “You have a kitchen?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And a living room?”

“Yes. And if you move the sofa over a little, you should have enough room to practice your moves.”

“Where do you want me to set you down?” Lucas asked, his lips brushing my ear.

I shivered.

“You cold?”

“No. Yes. Just place me down on the sofa once Josh has moved it out of the way. Thank you.”

Lucas obliged and gently set me down where I’d asked then disappeared into my bedroom. “Where are you going?” He returned seconds later with a blanket and draped it over my lap.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“I’ll be back,” he said, gathering up the ice bucket and room card and leaving the room.

“Now where’s he going?”

“To get ice, I guess.”

“What for?”

“For the scotch.”

“What scotch?”

“In the mini bar.” Josh chuckled and walked to the window then glanced over his shoulder at me, displaying an ‘are-you-stupid’ look. “He’s getting ice for your foot, Helena.”

The light bulb inside my head finally flicked on, but the fact of the matter was I hadn’t even considered that was what the ice would be for. In the past when I’d needed care for injuries, I’d been on my own and had tried desperately to hide they’d even existed.

Injuries led to questions and questions required answers, answers I was too afraid to give.

“With all due respect, boss lady, you need to lighten up. You’re so … mum-like.”

I shook my head. “Mum-like?”

“Yeah,” he said, facing the window again. “Like a cranky, over-protective mum … with a hot body.”

“I am not mum-like!”

“Yeah, you are. Makes me glad I don’t talk to mine.”

I went to argue my defense further but was shocked by his confession. “You don’t talk to your mother?”