Fated Hearts (Southern Bride 8)

“Yes. No, I mean, yes, you were here first, but…but…oh, my gosh.” She brought her fingers to her temples and rubbed while mumbling something to herself.

Tilting my head, I let out a laugh. “Let me guess, you’re the type of person who’ll be lying in bed hours later, and you’ll think of the perfect comeback and then get mad because you couldn’t think of it when you needed it.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Lucky guess, princess.”

“Ugh, stop calling me that. Roger, I’m exhausted. Can we please just go down to the front desk and find out what happened?”

“I’m not changing rooms. I was here first.”

She pointed at me and said, “Well, I took a shower first! Ha!”

I stared at her. “And that trumps me actually walking into the room, crawling into the bed, and sleeping, well before you showed up?”

Annalise shot me a smirk, knowing damn well I was in the right, and she was not.

It dawned on me then that it hadn’t been a dream. “That’s what the water sound was.”

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go fix this.”

Walking back into the bedroom, I grabbed the key I’d put on the side table and then started for the door.

“Um, aren’t you going to grab your things?” she asked.

“No, because this is my room. You grab your things. I was here first. Dibs.”

She laughed. “Oh, my God, did you seriously just call dibs on a hotel room? What are you, ten?”

I glanced back at her and winked. “You’re just pissed you didn’t think of it first.”

Annalise drew her brows down, inhaled a deep breath through her nose, and exhaled. “Damn it, you’re right. I don’t want to pack up all my bathroom stuff, though. It’s late. I’m so tired.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Now who’s acting like a ten-year-old? Whine much?”

She followed me out of the room and into the hallway. “You didn’t put on shoes.”

I shrugged. “It’s two in the morning. I don’t care.”

Folding her arms over her chest, she glared at me.

“You really think you’re going to get this room?” I asked her.

“I certainly do.”

I pressed the button on the elevator and then turned to face her. “Want to bet on that?”

Her perfectly arched brow rose, and I was able to get a better look at how truly beautiful she was in the bright light of the hallway. “Are we talking ‘money’ bet?” she asked.

“Do you want to talk money bet?”

She nodded. “Hundred bucks you’re the one leaving.”

I reached for her hand. “Hundred you’re the one leaving.”

After a firm handshake, we both turned and waited for the elevator. The doors opened, and we both stepped inside and faced the front.

“Not gonna lie, I’m totally turned on that you bet money just now,” I said.

She made a fake gag sound. “Ugh, gross.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her take a quick peek down at my junk. It took everything I had not to laugh.

Annalise

DAMN HIM! WHY did he say he was turned on, and why did I look down at his dick? His rather impressive dick too. When he’d jumped out of that bed sans clothes, I’d nearly choked on my own tongue. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with such an incredible body. Or such an impressive dick.

No, no, no! Do not picture him naked, Anna. Do not.

“Wow, okay, is it getting hot in this elevator?” I asked, fanning myself with my hand.

“Nope. Feels good to me.”

Oh, no. Now everything he said I was going to associate with something sexual.

“It’s hot,” I said. “Their heater must be set to high.”

“If you say so, princess.”

With a look that I hoped told him he was two seconds a–ay from being junk-punched, I huffed. “Annalise. That’s my name. Not princess, baby, sweetheart, darlin’, pumpkin, puffy, lover, sweet-pea—”

Roger held up his hand to stop me. “Wait. Did you just say ‘puffy’?”

I felt my cheeks instantly heat. “No.”

“Yes, you did. Did some idiot actually call you puffy? Oh, my God, tell me why. I have to know.”

Folding my arms over my chest, I looked away from him. “I’m not talking to you any longer.”

He laughed, and I hated the way it made my body feel all warm and tingly. Just like I hated how damn handsome he was. And his body—don’t even get me started on how insanely hot his body was.

I stole a glance at him and nearly groaned. He had dimples. Why, Lord above, did you have to make him hot, big in the Netherlands, and give him dimples?

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and we both walked out at the same time, bumping into each other. Roger took a step back and motioned for me to go first.

“By all means, you go first, puffy.”