Page 21 of Crashing Into You

“No, you can have the bedroom.” Christ. I wish we could both have the bedroom. “This is a pull-out, I think. And I’ve slept on plenty of couches.” I grin at her, wanting to put her at ease.

She frowns, a little line appearing between her brows. “Are you sure? You’re paying for this, after all, and?—”

“And you’re helping me out. Honestly, it’s fine. Go on.”

Her frown clears, but she’s still hesitant. I pick up her bag and carry it into the bedroom, placing it on the bed.

“See? All sorted.” I turn around. She’s standing there, biting her lip, and it’s all I can do not to pull her into my arms. It seems like madness that I’m going to be sharing a room with this beautiful woman tonight, yet we’ll be sleeping apart. I rub a hand over my face, feeling the need to do something to release this pent-up energy. Normally I’d head out for a surf, let the waves pound it out of me, but there’s not much chance of that here.

“Are you all right?”

“Er…” I pause, clearing my throat. “Yeah. Fine. I’m thinking of heading up for a swim. You want to come? You did bring bathers, right?”

I let her know the hotel had a pool when I made the booking. Yes, as a courtesy, but also because I want to see her in a bikini again. I know I’m a dick, but something about this girl is pulling at me.

“Oh! Sure. But I think I forgot to bring my cover up, though.” She chews her lip, glancing back over her shoulder, like it might be lurking there.

“Just grab a robe. You’ll be sweet. It’s a few floors up in the lift.”

I head out of the room before she can protest any more, closing the door behind me. I unzip my bag, pulling out the contents. There’s not much; a shirt and jeans for tonight, toiletries and underwear, and my board shorts for swimming. I get changed, all the while acutely aware that Claire is in the next room, doing the same thing.

I give her a minute, then knock on the bedroom door. A moment later she opens it. Her cheeks are pink and I want to kiss her immediately. She’s wearing one of the hotel robes, tied tightly, her feet bare. My groin stirs.

“I’ll get the other one for you,” she says, going to the cupboard and handing it to me. A few minutes later we’re both in the lift, clad in robes. I don’t think about how that might look until the lift stops on another floor and a small group of men get in, their eyes immediately going to Claire.

“How’s it going, fellas?” I drawl, moving closer to her.

“Not as well as you, mate,” one of them laughs, openly ogling Claire. She frowns, pulling her robe tighter at the neck. I grin, but put a bit of shark into it, while dropping an arm around her shoulders.

“What can I say?” I raise an eyebrow, holding his stare until he looks away. The really shitty thing is that I can remember being like that myself on a couple of occasions, when I was young and stupid and the worse for wear. Looking at a woman like an object, an extension of the man she was with. I soon learned what bullshit that was. My sister made sure of that.

The men get off on the next floor, but Claire stays close to me, her soft warmth comforting. She doesn’t say anything until we reach the rooftop, the heated pool glimmering in the sunshine.

“You want a drink?” I drop my stuff on one of the sunloungers, and she takes the one next to it, untying her robe. There are fresh towels piled on a table nearby; I grab a couple, handing one to her.

“I might have a juice,” she says. “I can get it myself, though.”

“I know you can.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, those ocean eyes of hers unreadable. Shit. Maybe she doesn’t want someone protecting her. Maybe she’s had enough of that with that asshole ex of hers.

But then she smiles. “Those guys were dicks.”

I laugh. “Yeah. You okay with me stepping in?”

She shrugs. “Of course. All part of the boyfriend experience, right?” Something softens in her gaze. She slips her robe from her shoulders, revealing her lush curves clad in a bikini the colour of a summer sky, beautiful against her tanned skin. “Orange, please,” she adds.

I blink, realising I’m staring. “Uh, the juice? Yeah, I might grab one too.” I tap the app, placing the order, all the while conscious of her arranging her slender limbs on the lounger, sunlight caressing every curve the way I want to.

Fuck the juice. I need cold water. I put my phone down and, without pausing, dive into the pool. I emerge, flicking water out of my hair. The pool is heated, so it’s not doing much to calm the raging feelings inside me. Claire is sitting up, peering at me over her sunglasses.

“What?” I flash her my best shit-eating grin.

“You splashed me.” She’s grinning too, though. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I shouldn’t ogle her, because she’s not my girlfriend. But she’spretendingto be, so perhaps that comes with the territory. But what the fuck does that mean? Does it mean I can climb out of this pool and go over to her, run my hand down her smooth stomach, kiss her satin shoulder? I realise we need to talk about this. About where the lines are, and how far this can go.

Because otherwise I’m not going to make it through this month unscathed.

ChapterEleven