I fling the door open and eye him wildly. “You’re early.” It comes out like an accusation.
His lips twitch as his eyes roam my body. “Tell me you don’t answer the door like that to everyone. Please.”
I look down at what I’m wearing.
Oh, hell.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I throw my arms across my body trying to cover myself. I’ve answered the door dressed only in my lingerie—one of my bras that covers very little and pushes my tits up and out, and panties that consist mostly of string. Well, it may as well be string.
He walks into my room. “There’s no need to cover up. I’ve seen it all before, Callie.”
Ignoring him, I wrench open the cupboard and locate the dress I’ve decided to wear tonight. I rip it off the coat hanger and throw it over my head. In my haste, the zipper gets stuck in my hair.
Fuck.
Please, God, fix this.
Now.
I wiggle and squirm trying to either get the dress on or off. At this point, I don’t care which works so long as the dress isn’t sitting where it is, covering my face with my arms up in the air and my body exposed to Luke.
“Here, let me help,” he says. Before I can protest, he moves close—so close—and places his hands on my dress. He begins trying to separate my hair from the zip, and I commence hyperventilating. His body is way too close for me.
Why did I say yes to dinner?
He eventually untangles my hair from the zip, and just when I’m sending prayers of thanks to the heavens, he slides the dress into place. His hands smooth the dress over my body before moving to do up the zip.
In desperation to stop the madness, I spin around and slap his hands away. “I’ve got this,” I mutter.
He watches me with amusement but doesn’t argue. I step in front of the mirror and almost die when I see the birds nest my hair is now in.
Can this night get any worse?
I head into the bathroom to fix it. Thankfully Luke stays put in the other room. I hear the TV switch on and sigh in relief. He’s got something to occupy himself while I do my hair and make-up.
It takes a good fifteen minutes to make myself presentable. When I head out of the bathroom, I find Luke lounging on my bed, his back to the bedhead, his legs spread out in front of him, ankles crossed.
My heart skips a beat at the sight, and I reach for the wall to steady myself.
He doesn’t seem to notice, thank God, and I continue on my way to finish getting ready.
“I just need to pack my bag.”
He frowns. “Pack your bag?”
I nod at the side of the bed he’s not occupying. “Yeah, my handbag. I dumped everything on the bed when I was looking for something earlier.”
He glances at my handbag contents strewn across the bed and then looks back up at me. “I saw that.”
I narrow my eyes at him and wave my hand in his direction. “What? What is that about?”
“What?”
“That amusement that just crossed your face.”
“Nothing.” He turns his attention back to the television, and I decide to ignore whatever just happened.
I begin sorting through the items on the bed to decide what to pack, and I realise what he was amused by. God, I look like a horny bitch—I’ve got three different bullet vibrators sitting on the bed that I packed in my handbag for this trip. Because you can never have too many of those things.
Especially not when you’ve just done a long stint back in sex-drought land.
I leave them on the bed, finish sorting myself out, and announce, “I’m ready.”
He flicks the television off and leaves the bed to guide me out of the room and to the elevator.
We’re the only people in the elevator and as I check Luke out, I suddenly worry that I’m not going to make it through this night without trying to jump his bones.
He’s wearing a dark grey T-shirt that hugs his muscles in ways I want to hug them, and jeans that cling to his ass.
Goddamn you, Hardy.
Why do you have to be so freaking sexy?
His lips twitch when he catches me checking him out. “You wanna go back to the room and grab one of those bullets?”
I refrain from poking my tongue at him. “Well, they do get the job done,” I mutter.
“Not as well as other things.”
“When one can’t have other things, she has to rely on what she has available.”
He cocks his head. “She hasn’t had anything else to rely on?”
I hold his gaze. “Not in a good eight months.”
My reward for this conversation comes when his nostrils flare and his voice deepens. “She needs a refresher course.”
The elevator reaches our destination and the doors open. Saving me.
He places his hand on my back and guides me towards the restaurant. Ten minutes later, I’m sitting across from him for the second time today.
The waiter places a vodka in front of me and a whisky in front of Luke. I reach for mine straight away and take a gulp. “What time is everyone arriving tomorrow?”
“Around lunchtime. Do you have any plans for the morning?”
“No. You?”
He shakes his head. “The beach looks like a good option.”
“I’m thinking a sleep in at least.”