Page 42 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Emma

I ’ve never stayed at The Cosmopolitan in Vegas before. I usually stay at The Hilton or a Best Western. I’ve even stayed in Circus Circus once, but the room Jordan and I were in looked like it hadn’t been updated since the eighties, and it felt a lot like the beginning of a horror movie.

The Cosmopolitan is far fancier than I would have chosen for one night, but Ben didn’t let me have much of a say. We walk around the outside of the casino floor before we find the elevators that will take us up to our room.

The elevator is quiet as we ascend, but it’s charged with anticipatory energy. I’m emotionally spent from finding out about Grandpa and then trauma dumping on Ben, but I’m also antsy with nervous energy and restlessness from sitting in the car for five hours .

I’m glad we decided to stop for the night instead of driving straight through, but I’m also nervous to sleep in the same room as Ben.

Ben finds our room and uses the keycard to unlock the door, letting me enter first. The bathroom is immediately to my right, and I see the aforementioned big bathtub and a glass-encased shower that looks like it could fit five people.

I step further into the room and am greeted with the sight of the bright lights of the strip through the sliding door leading to the balcony.

Then I see the one bed.

I twist to scowl at Ben. “What happened to two beds, Benjamin?”

Ben sets the suitcases down and shrugs. “I couldn’t get two beds and a balcony over the strip.”

I narrow my eyes at him, even as my heart flutters at the idea of sleeping next to him. “What’s so important about a balcony?”

Ben gives me a rakish smirk. “You’ll see if you’re a good girl and let me spoil you. Now, tell me what you want to eat.”

Ben lets me scroll through the menu on his phone, and I eventually end up ordering mushroom ravioli. I don’t know what Ben orders, but he instructs me to get in the bath while we wait for the food to arrive since it’ll probably be an hour.

I go into the bathroom—thank God the tub doesn’t look crusty and dirty—and turn the faucet to hot so the tub can fill while I gather my things.

Ben is sitting on the end of the bed on his phone when I walk back into the room.

I open my suitcase and remove a set of pajamas, toiletry case, and my dirty clothes bag. Then, feeling bold, I strip off my T-shirt, bra, leggings, and underwear before shoving them into the dirty clothes bag.

When I turn around, Ben is looking at my body like he’s seeing it for the first time. His gaze is hungry, predatory. But it’s also… soft. Admiring. It makes me want to hide under a blanket just as much as it makes me want to preen.

“Let me know when the food gets here,” I chirp as I walk past him.

I hear his feet shuffle along the carpet, following me to the bathroom. I don’t bother closing the door as I set my toiletry case on the counter and pull out a claw clip. My hair is still in a braid from earlier, but since it’s so long, I need to clip it up to make sure the ends don’t get wet.

Once it’s clipped up, I turn and put a hand in the half-full tub, checking the temperature. It’s hot but not scalding. Perfect.

I step over the edge, then slowly sink beneath the hot water, hissing as my body adjusts to the temperature.

When I’m fully settled, I close my eyes and let out a sigh of relief as my muscles start to release some of the tension from the day.

“Does that feel nice, Dulzura? ” Ben rasps—presumably from the doorway.

I don’t open my eyes when I respond, “Mmm. I love baths. The bathtub at my house is too small for me to sit in comfortably because my thighs and hips get squished, so I don’t get to take them as often as I’d like.”

“That’s a shame,” Ben hums.

I pop one eye open and see his broad frame leaning against the doorframe. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me the whole time?”

“Does me watching make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I just feel like I should be giving you a show or something.”

Ben chuckles and steps further into the bathroom, kneeling by the tub where my head’s resting. “I don’t need you to do anything other than relax.” He pushes a button I didn’t see before, and the water begins to swirl and bubble while the jets hit me from all sides.

Ohhh, that feels nice.

Ben hands me my phone next. “Put on one of your spicy romance books or some relaxing music. I’ll be back when the food gets here.”

Then, he leans in like he’s going to kiss my forehead before he realizes what he’s doing and stops halfway and pulls back.

I shouldn’t be disappointed––I’m the one who made the rule. But I am.

I made the rule so I wouldn’t get attached. So things would be just sex—just physical. No attachments. No feelings.

But I’m already fucking attached. I already fucking feel things.

Whatever is happening between us, the lines are getting blurred—who am I kidding?

They’ve been blurred for a while. At this point, the line is dust, just waiting to get blown away by the next breeze.

Holding hands in the car was so simple, but it had me picturing Sunday drives and holding hands in his work truck.

My heart is demanding we ignore the lines I’ve drawn, pouting because it wants to give itself over to Ben completely.

I squeeze my eyes shut to stop from crying again, since this is a stupid thing to cry over. I did it to myself. I got myself into this, and I can’t be upset he’s a good guy and respects my boundaries, even if I want him to break them right now.

We’re adults. I could have an adult conversation with him and tell him I want to make an amendment to my limits, but I feel like it’s a recipe for disaster—especially since we’ll be sharing not only a room but a bed.

He turned us into the goddamn one bed trope. That asshole.

At least we’ve already had sex. There’s no unresolved sexual tension to make sharing the bed unbearable. We won’t be staying awake, wondering who will break and make the first move.

I guess now, it’s a matter of who falls first.

Spoiler alert: it’ll be me.

It is me.

I could be reading into every gesture, finding any reason to open my heart to the emotions I’ve kept locked away for so long.

Maybe the hand holding, the road trip, the tender way he’s been looking at me is just him taking care of his coworker because of his dad’s orders.

Maybe he sees this as an opportunity for one last week of wild sex before he calls off our arrangement and I go back to the club to find another Dom.

I hate that idea. I trust Ben with my body and my pleasure.

I don’t want to start over with someone else .

I must’ve lost track of time because Ben knocks softly and opens the bathroom door with a tray of food.

I start to stand. “Let me just dry off and—”

“No, stay in the tub,” Ben commands, setting the tray on the bathroom counter.

“I can’t eat in the bathtub.”

“I’m going to feed you.”

“ Feed me? I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

Ben levels me with a stern look. “Do as you’re told, Dulzura. Let me feed you your dinner, then we can have dessert. I need you to be energized for what I have planned.”

“Yes, Sir.” My pussy clenches at the command in his tone. “But… how will you feed me and eat at the same time?”

Ben holds up a plate with some sort of wrap on it. “I can eat this one-handed. Don’t worry about me.”

I bite my lip and nod.

I can’t wait to see what he has planned.