Fated Hearts (Southern Bride 8)

Roger slowly lifted his arm off me, then carefully rolled onto his back. Was it my imagination, or was he suddenly breathing heavier?

I felt the bed slowly move as he got out. It sounded like he grabbed his bag before he tiptoed into the bathroom and softly shut the door. The moment I heard the click, I let out a very quiet sigh and buried my face in the pillow.

His dick had been right up against me. His arm around me. His hard, firm chest pressed against my back. I groaned into the pillow as I felt an ache grow between my legs.

Damn him! Damn this Roger Carter for being one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. Damn him for spooning me and getting me all hot and bothered.

The shower turned on, and I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. “I need to find another hotel,” I whispered. I sat up and noticed I was in the middle of the bed. My so-called safety pillow was nowhere to be found. One of us had most likely tossed it out of the bed last night.

“Who spooned who?” I mused as I reached over to the side table and grabbed my phone. Goodness, it was nine in the morning. I had one missed text from my mother.

Mom: Darling, you never sent a text when you got to the hotel. Did you find a room? Please tell me you found a room and you’re safe.

Ha! How did one inform their mother that they did indeed find a room, but with a hot-as-hell naked guy who was now in the shower only a few feet away? For all I knew, he was a serial killer.

Me: Hey, Mom! Sorry I didn’t text, but by the time I got to the hotel and sorted out a problem with the room, it was well past two in the morning. Looks like I’ll be stuck in Chicago for a few days. All flights out of O’Hare are canceled. It’s a pretty wicked storm.

If I knew my mother, she would either be carrying her phone with her like it was glued to her hand, or she’d left it somewhere and it would take her the whole day to find it. Since she had been waiting on a text from me, I was going with her having it on her. Sure enough, her reply came through almost instantly.

Mom: So glad you’re in a hotel! What was the problem with the room?

Me: I’ll call later and explain. Give Daddy a big hug and kiss for me. Love you!

Mom: Will do! Love you back, sweetheart!

I opened my email and quickly skimmed my inbox. I had informed my new boss I was stuck up north because of the weather and wouldn’t be making it there for at least a day, most likely two. This wasn’t how I wanted to start the next chapter of my life, but what was a girl to do? Couldn’t control the weather.

Sure enough, there was a message from her.

Subject: RE: Stuck in the snow

Dear Annalise,

Please don’t worry about it. It sounds like all of the north is getting packed with storms. Don’t stress and we will see you when we see you!

The sound of the shower turning off had me placing my phone on the side table and scrambling back under the sheets. The last thing I wanted to do was face Roger. Not after his junk was nearly all up in my trunk.

I closed my eyes at the sound of the door slowly opening. I could hear Roger moving quietly through the room. He walked back over to his side of the bed and put his bag down. A few seconds later, the door to the room opened and then clicked shut.

I threw the sheet down and exhaled. “Two days. I cannot be stuck in this hotel room with that man for two days.”

Deciding to get up and get dressed so I could hit the gym after a quick stop by the front desk, I threw on some different yoga pants and a Dry-Fit shirt. I walked into the bathroom and noticed that Roger had put his toiletries to one side, and neatly moved mine to the other. You could tell a lot about a man by what he used for his bathroom routine.

He had an electric toothbrush. Used Colgate peppermint toothpaste—gross, Crest-lover here—and floss. Oh, nice. We had a man who took care of his teeth. Come to think of it, when he had smiled, it had looked like an awfully nice one.

I shook my head and kept snooping. Speed Stick deodorant and a black bag that I was guessing held his shaving items. Had he shaved? No, he wouldn’t have had time to shave. Lord, how I loved a man with a five o’clock shadow.