Kismet Heart: A Protector Romance (A Surviving Love Novel Book 1) by Brinda Berry

Author:Brinda Berry [Berry, Brinda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Sweet Biscuit Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-09-24T16:00:00+00:00

The hotel hallway is long and deserted. We walk in silence to her room where she stands holding the door key. In keeping with the antique feel of the other furnishings, there are no plastic cards you magically wave across the reader. Malerie holds an old-timey gold key.

“You going to be good down here by yourself?” I wish the hotel had put me in a room closer to hers.

“Sure,” she says without looking at me. She attempts to insert the key twice before she gets the door unlocked.

The curtains are closed in the room, so I lean in and flip the switch. “It all looks okay.”

She doesn’t respond and inches into the room. I walk ahead and turn on another light, remembering that she keeps a lot of lights on in every room.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

I give a quick nod and I’m gone. She’s a grown, capable woman. And far too pretty to be alone in a hotel room with me.

Back in my room, I step into the hot shower and do my best to clear my mind. A bathroom is a bathroom, but this place has some nice shit. There’s even a heated towel rack I mentally add to the “things I’ll have someday” list.

I stay under the steamy water too long and find a fogged mirror when I step out. I’m wiping it down when I hear a rap at my door.

Water’s dripping into my eyes and I rub the towel over my head once more before draping it around my waist and opening the door.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

Malerie stands in the hallway in the sort of tiny pajama shorts and tank girls seem to make so sexy. Is she trying to push me over the brink of nice-guy sanity?

“I can’t sleep.” She shoves bangs out of her eyes, and I can’t stop noticing she’s not wearing a bra.

I adjust the towel around my waist. “Try harder.” If she sticks around long, the towel and I are parting ways.

“I heard your television. I thought I could watch TV with you.” Her voice is soft and pleading. Her bottom lip trembles slightly before she bites it. She’s nervous.

“Mal, I was in the shower.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She says this as if it’s not obvious. “Can I come in?”

In a nanosecond, my mind flashes to a visual of us both in the shower. “No.”

“Why not?” She looks bewildered, the corners of her mouth turning down and a disbelieving pucker on her brow.

I exhale and step aside. “For a minute.”

I grab my clean clothes and step back into the bathroom. My jeans stick to my damp skin as I tug them back on. Three seconds later, I’m back out to discover she’s propped on my bed watching TV.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I grab the remote and click it off.

“Hey,” she protests. “What’s the big deal?”

“I want to go to bed.”

“Me, too,” she says and I almost growl.

At her expression, I tone down my anger. “This isn’t a slumber party.” And she is such an innocent.

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